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The start of another story. I wrote this one ages ago, and it's been available on Amazon for years, but I'd love to share it with anyone who hasn't seen it before. So if there's anyone who's like me to keep on posting this one, please let me know ๐Ÿ™‚ย There's a little relationship drama there, and someone who really needs a break from that drama so she can be a toddler again.

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A Little Break - Day 1 / Chapter 1: Introduction

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"You want to talk to somebody?" It was a tough question, but I knew I had to ask. I might not like what she had to say, and she might not want to tell me. But I knew Lynn had been through some pretty tough times lately, and if I couldn't do anything else I could at least offer a disinterested ear for any personal problems.

"You've seen the shitstorm on Facebook, everybody knows more about me than they'd ever want to." She wasn't crying, but the bitterness in her voice made it clear that was more through force of will than any level of happiness. She could be on the point of breaking down in despair or lashing out in rage, or balancing an a narrow tightrope of sanity between the two with an equal pull in either direction.

"I haven't," I answered, wishing I was close enough to offer a hug. "Lynn, I saw enough to realise a bunch of guys I don't know are being assholes to an old friend. I don't want to know what they have to say, because I know it won't be the truth. If you want to tell me what's happened, then I'll know, and you know I won't judge you.for anything. If you don't want to talk, then it's none of my business."

"You want to know?"

"A lot of problems are easier to deal with if you share them. I want to help you if I can."

"You're not going to join in the slanderfest, orโ€“"

"Lynn," I interrupted, hoping it was the right thing to set her mind at rest. "I've been kicked out of online sadomasochist communities because of the things I'm interested in. I have to keep some things hidden even from groups whose defining feature is accepting other people's quirks. I'm not going to look down on anyone, because I know what it's like. And I doubt there's anything you can say that I haven't heard before. I'm not going to demand you tell me, because that's not my place. But if you want to share the situation with somebody who'll still be here for you..."

"Thanks," she nodded slowly. "I think you must have some idea what's going on anyway. Everybody's talking about it, right?"

"I've not been to a convention in four years. I don't hear anything from most of the people you know, I guessed that's why you got back in touch. I just know there's a bunch of people calling you all kinds of things that I'd rather not believe. I think I saw like one picture, but I don't know why that's got anyone so upset." The picture had been a typical selfie, showing off a new outfit, and seemed to be where this whole mess had started. I'd noticed it, a little smile to see that Lynn had her hair in bunches again, just like she had in college. I'd noticed a pacifier on the table behind her. I'd seen the top comment from a mutual friend asking if they were expecting a baby, and her husband Clark had given a multi-page response with such bile in the first few words that I'd stopped reading before finding out what he was so angry about. But the same picture had popped up every time I checked my messages for a few days, and it had been a real effort of will not to dive into the hundreds of replies from people I didn't know and people who must have changed so much since we'd last spoken.

Lynn's later posts had been deliberately vague, trying to keep on with the normal blend of online socialising. But she'd attracted nothing but hate from people who were supposed to be her friends. And a week later, she was sending me a message out of the blue, asking if my current flatmates would have a problem with a couch-surfing friend. She needed a break, she said, cabin fever or something spending every day with the same few people.

"You didn't see Clark's rant?"

"I saw a wall of text, and people responding with angry or sympathetic cartoon faces. I don't read stuff like that online, especially when it's someone I don't really know talking about an old friend."

"Thanks. Guess you're the only friend I got left now, then." This time, I could offer a hug. I didn't think about what was appropriate, I just saw a good friend โ€“ no matter how many years we hadn't really talked for โ€“ on the verge of tears. I put my arms round her shoulders and held her head against my chest as she started to sob. And maybe for once I found the right thing to do.

She held me tightly and cried. I didn't say anything else, I didn't want to bring bad memories to the surface. Sometimes just being there is enough to help.

"I think I want you to know," Lynn muttered indistinctly after a few minutes. "Before you offer me space here, you deserve to know what I've done so even Clark doesn't want me around. Better to hear it from me, before I got my hopes up."

"I don't let my friends down," I said, "There's nothing you could say that would change that. You can tell me, but don't get worried about that. And if you're nervous about telling me, maybe I can help with that. If you want me to."

"You have ways of making me talk?" A momentary grin broke through the storm of emotions, as she remembered something that had once made her smile a lot. "You're still practising that hypnosis thing?"

"Occasionally. And if it makes things easier for you, that would justify all the time I spent learning it."

"Wondering if you can turn me into a brainwashed sex slave while I'm vulnerable?" she asked, a little sarcasm evident. Given some of my interests, at least the ones I'd admitted to college friends, it could have been a serious worry. But I was sure she knew me well enough to know how much value I put on consent. "Or can you just force me to admit my big secret now the rest of the world seems to know?"

"I'm not really into force," I had to think about that answer for a few seconds. When I started learning hypnosis, Lynn had been one of the friends willing to let me experiment, and I knew that she had a submissive streak a mile wide. I really wasn't interested in making anyone do something against their will, and wouldn't have tried that even if there was a reliable way to make it happen. But with Aimee and Lynn, who loved so much to feel helpless and out of control, I was happy to help them feel like puppets, or like helpless victims of my mental powers. "You know that's not my style. Maybe I'd make it a little easier for you to answer questions, help you to believe that you're not going to freak me out. But if you want to be interrogated," I gave a little shrug with one shoulder, and felt her head move slightly against my chest, "Well, if that makes you feel better, I'm sure it would be fun."

"There's some stuff I started doing," she spoke slowly, carefully, "Stuff I never even thought about before. I bet even your S&M friends would call me a freak. And things I've asked Clark if we can try. And stuff I'm too nervous to even mention to him. Every time I asked for something, he'd tell me I was weird. Sometimes he'd do it, and make a big deal out of how messed up it is, so like I really owe him. Or he might do it, but it's got to lead to sex. That doesn't always feel natural, but I guess once I got what I want it's got to be his turn. Sometimes I ask too much, and he just says no. But there was just this one time I crossed a line, I guess. He said no, not now, not ever. And then a week later, I shared a picture online, and one of our friends might maybe have guessed something. And Clark doesn't want everybody to think he's the freak, so he comes right out and tells the world, telling all our friends what I'd been keeping secret,"

"Wow," I whispered. I wasn't sure what else to say, but I had to try. "Wow, that must be tough." It took a lot of willpower not to say that her husband sounded like a controlling jerk, or that he didn't deserve her. That wasn't what she needed to hear. I knew more than a few friends who had been forced to choose between someone they loved, and a fetish that made them feel alive. At least this guy had tried, that had to be worth something.

"Yeah. It's not that bad, really. He did so much for me, even when it wasn't something that turns him on, you know? I don't want you thinking I hate him. It's just, now everybody knows, it's like all our friends are united to protect him from me. I don't know if I'll be able to get over that. It's like everyone's looking at me, everyone knows what a freak I am. And I don't know how I can go back to a normal life."

"I can't tell you how to deal with that, I'm afraid. I ended up having to find a completely new group of friends when my secrets came out. But you know, some of those people might not be thinking the worst. Maybe they're interested in something similar. If the Internet has taught me one thing, it's that no matter what you're into, you'll never be the only one. And your secret shame probably seems a much bigger deal to you than it does to anyone else."

"I wish. If you knew, you wouldn't want me staying here."

"This... secret, this whatever it is, does it involve hurting someone who doesn't like it? No? Then it's nobody else's business, and I'm sure there's stranger things out there. You've found a guy who's willing to indulge you sometimes, right? So maybe once tempers have cooled down a bit, he'll admit he wants you back. There's a bright side, right?"

"I guess so," I couldn't see her expression, while she kept her head pressed close against me. I didn't know what she was feeling at that point. "Let me guess, you're going to say that I should have married you instead, and you'd have been playing along with my sick fantasies for years. Right?"

"I don't know what it is," another half shrug, "But I'd probably have given it a try, if you asked. 'Don't knock it until you tried it' is practically my middle name, right?"

"Maybe I should ask you, then. I mean, Clark keeps telling me it's not something a normal couple does, so..."

"So maybe it's okay to try with your friends? Well it's not like he'd be missing out. So if it's something I might be interested in, then I'll be sure to let you know... Or if you're still nervous, I can make it a little easier for you to say."

"Can you make me forget?" Now she pulled away a moment to look up into my eyes. "Make me tell you, and then forget, so I'm not so embarrassed by sharing something so..."

"Probably not as strange as you think. But if that's what you want, I'm sure I can help you." She nodded enthusiastically.

"Just making it clear," I made sure to hold her gaze, making sure she was taking in everything I was saying. If I was going to hypnotise her again, then I needed to draw a line in the sand. I would always tell her what was on offer up front, when we could both be sure she wasn't being unduly influenced by any kind of suggestions I might have given her. In a dominance and submission game, or S&M in some ways, my partner might be unable to disagree with me, or unable to remember exactly what was happening, or have her ability to think clearly restricted. So I would always, always make sure they knew at the start exactly what was going to happen. The invisible sign in the air now would read 'This is your last chance to change your mind'. Even when the aim of a session was to help a friend relax, like now, I'd gotten into the habit of confirming what she wanted in the same way. Because no matter what we're getting up to, I think that safety and consent have to come first.

I also love to see their reactions; that mix of nervousness and excitement before riding a mental rollercoaster. And from the wide eyes and the blush rising in her cheeks, Lynn still loved that line in the sand as much as I did.

"I'm going to guide you into trance, and see if any of the things I taught you in college are still there in your mind. Maybe a little fractionation to help you sink deeper into trance, if necessary, and then you're going to find yourself waking up in a very calm and relaxed state. The questions I ask you about will seem completely normal, the kind of everyday minutia you might tell anyone who asked. You won't feel any negative emotions linked to any of the memories you tell me about, and if they're things you've been told you should be ashamed of, you won't realise that while we're talking. Everything will be as normal as if I was asking the name of your cat, or asking for directions. Any worries, whether about my questions or your answers, won't come to mind and you will answer honestly without thinking twice.

"I'll ask you about these desires that you've been keeping secret, that are causing you some worry now. You will be able to answer without feeling bad. And then if it's something that I'd be comfortable helping you to enjoy, I'll tell you that, and I'll make sure that you remember that detail at least. And I'll do what I can to offer you a place safe from the harshness of other people's opinions, and make as much effort as I can to help you enjoy the next week. Then, after we've had this little discussion, I'll give you the option to forget part or all of it. So you will know that we've talked, but you will only remember as many details as you want to." I licked my lips, stalling for time for just a second. Looking into her eyes, I thought maybe I'd seen something there. A flicker of movement, a momentary half smile, I wasn't sure. But when I mentioned forgetting, I could see a second reason she might have asked for that. A reason that would explain whatever sign of faint hope my subconscious had picked up on.

I continued: "And if the thing you're interested in includes parts that you would enjoy more if I were to surprise you in some way, or for which you would prefer not to be given a choice, I will try to propose scenarios to you while you are still in that open and honest state of mind, so you can tell me if you would like something without having to worry about what you 'should' like, or if you think I or anyone else might disapprove. Then you will tell me honestly if you want that, and you will be able to forget that we went into detail, so that the experience itself comes as a complete surprise."

She nodded, but her eyes didn't leave mine. She was breathing a little more heavily now, and I knew she'd do anything that came to mind if she thought it would increase the chances of me playing along with her fantasy. Maybe this was a reason she'd come to me in the first place, rather than any other old friend; or maybe I'd just made her an offer she couldn't refuse.

"And just to be clear, this is your chance to say no. Because whatever's on your mind, whatever fantasies you're hoping I might indulge, I might surprise you with it, or take the choice away from you any time this week once you've agreed to these terms. So if you just want to talk to me about it, say so now. Is all of that what you want?"

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The start of another story. I wrote this one ages ago, and it's been available on Amazon for years, but I'd love to share it with anyone who hasn't seen it before. So if there's anyone who's like me t

Long time since I updated hereโ€ฆ didn't realise how much time had passed. Hope nobody's been too impatient waiting for this chapter. ย  Aย Little Break - Day 10 / Chapter 26: Fantasy โ€œWell

Thanks ๐Ÿ™‚ย Always good to see someone's interested. I think I'm posting this here for the benefit of people who aren't on Wattpad or don't like the atmosphere in the comments there. Hope the format

An interesting enough start for sure. Feel free to share more, I'm sure there are interested parties on the site who would read it. I also didn't mention it on your other post, since I tend to lurk and not respond, but I appreciated that story as well. Was nice to see that type of thing end without someone trapped forever in their own mind. Some really like that type of ending, and I've seen plenty of stories that indulge it, but I'm more of an ending where things work out for involved parties, since the real world is depressing enough as is.

But I digress. Consider at least one person interested in reading what you've made.

Edited by tenck5k
usual grammar fixes (see edit history)
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3 hours ago, tenck5k said:

An interesting enough start for sure. Feel free to share more, I'm sure there are interested parties on the site who would read it. I also didn't mention it on your other post, since I tend to lurk and not respond, but I appreciated that story as well. Was nice to see that type of thing end without someone trapped forever in their own mind. Some really like that type of ending, and I've seen plenty of stories that indulge it, but I'm more of an ending where things work out for involved parties, since the real world is depressing enough as is.

But I digress. Consider at least one person interested in reading what you've made.

Thanks ๐Ÿ™‚ย Always good to see someone's interested. I think I'm posting this here for the benefit of people who aren't on Wattpad or don't like the atmosphere in the comments there.

Hope the formatting isn't too much of a mess; I'm copying this over from Wattpad, as I think the master documents are on my other computer (the original version on Google Docs doesn't have chapter breaks). I'm aware that Wattpad for some reason strips smart quotes from stories, but don't think there should be any other changes.

A Little Break - Day 1 / Chapter 12: Induction

"Yes!" Lynn's voice squeaked slightly, a half giggle of nervous excitement, "Yes, please! You probably won't even want to talk to me once you heard, but ..."

"But you can hope. And I'll tell you, I think the odds are in your favour. I'm pretty sure I've heard of something weirder, and there's very, very few things I've heard of and not considered trying. You know you can trust me, so you know that all of the things you've agreed to are going to happen. Do you remember what is going to happen when I say those words? How it will feel? Just remember it, and let yourself go."

I'd been watching her movement, trying to follow every little change in posture. I knew she remembered, because she was already responding. The right tone, the right rhythm, that could be all it took, She was already starting to remember how it had felt to sink into trance for me, so many years ago, and she was watching my movements, my words as well. When I asked her to remember, she knew on some level that it was time to experience all those sensations again. Her body started to relax as I spoke, and I held her close so that she wouldn't slip or fall. And then the patter all came back to me, just like riding a bike. I reminded her how good it feels to relax, and how relaxing it could be to just follow my words without the added effort of thinking about them.

A little over five minutes later she was slumped against me, breathing deeply. Every muscle relaxed, her body so calm you might think she was sleeping peacefully. She was smiling, of course, it's easy to be happy once all the bad thoughts are too much effort to recall. Then I asked her to imagine something for me, like a movie playing out in her mind's eye. She could see what I described, without needing to think about it at all. I'll admit to a little moment of selfishness; it wasn't really necessary, but I wanted to see if I remembered well enough to pull off some of the more complex techniques. So I asked her to imagine watching herself sink deeper, relaxing into the perfect, blissful state she was feeling now. I reminded her how to associate that feeling with certain words, and with a countdown. And I told her that although she was already as relaxed and comfortable as she could possibly be, if she started sinking into trance from a more relaxed starting point, then it would be easier to accept my words and feel the things I described.

"Are you feeling any better?" I asked, once she was awake enough to answer. She stretched, eyes flickering, and the grin on her face was all the answer I really needed.

"I hardly remember," she answered slowly, "I feel so... safe. Floaty. Thank you." I let her enjoy the feeling for a long moment, and find a more comfortable position, before I carried on.

"Everything as good as you hoped it would be? Would you like to go further?"

"Yes, I..." she beamed, and then her eyes widened as she remembered one of my favourite techniques. She could take herself right back into trance if she wanted to, and she didn't give it a second thought. Her lips shaped the countdown I'd suggested, though I didn't hear the words. Half a minute of slow counting had her just as deep as the last five minutes of guided induction, and I could use a few more minutes to make sure she was calm, comfortable, and absolutely sure she wanted what we'd discussed. In all, I woke her up four times, and four times she was so eager to start counting down again to go deeper still. After that, I was sure, I could have told her anything, changed her desires however I wanted, and she would have enjoyed the sensation too much to resist. I would never do that; my interest is in helping people I care about more than some selfish power trip. But I knew she wouldn't have resisted at all.

So I described to her a special conversation, where it would be so easy to tell the truth. She wouldn't be embarrassed, she wouldn't need to think about her words, she wouldn't feel any guilt or discomfort whether the things she said would normally be seen in a negative light or not. I told her again that I wouldn't judge her for her thoughts and feelings, and asked her to imagine being so sure about that, the possibility didn't even enter her mind. She gave me a satisfied purr to let me know she could imagine that, so as I brought her back up I just asked her to imagine that dream staying with her. It was somewhere between a dream and reality, where she could have that conversation without needing to think of it as real.

Again, she smiled. Stretching like a cat, it seemed to be her natural response on waking up, and she did just the same when returning from a trance state. I'd always found that cute, and intriguing as well. Someone in trance might look like they're sleeping, their whole body completely relaxed, but as I understand it your mental state is almost the opposite, hyperactive with thoughts that you might not even remember. Still, a stretch and a yawn were a good sign to me that she was consciously listening.

"Are you awake?" I asked, though I knew the answer already.

"I think so. That was wonderful, thank you. Am I going down again?"

"Maybe later," I offered a smile. She still seemed so relaxed, so calm. "If you want to. For now, I'd like to ask you some questions. Now, you might find that you have to tell me the truth now, are you comfortable with that?"

"Of course," she breathed, "It turns me on so much knowing that I couldn't hide anything even if I wanted to." But as she said it, she wasn't blushing there. She didn't realise in that moment there was anything to be embarrassed about in that answer. It was like I was asking if she liked some celebrity's new hairstyle or something, rather than such a personal inquiry.

"So, I understand there's something you want to talk about?"

"Yeah," she shrugged like it was no big deal, a big improvement on her earlier anxiety, "I had an argument with Clark. He said he was ashamed to talk to our friends, because I'd made private things public."

"Private things about you, or him? Or both?" I didn't want to push it too hard. I had a few thoughts what these private things might be, but it wouldn't be fair on her to guess. "Is it something you'd like to talk about?"

"I guess. It's me originally, but he went along with it. I thought he enjoyed it, but when people started treating us like we were weird he came out and said it was this messed up thing I'd forced him to do, and he told everybody."

I took a deep breath, and forced myself not to get upset about that. One of the most important things I believe is that private matters stay private. Outing someone else's kinks is never acceptable.

"Does it hurt anyone?" I asked, "I mean really hurt, not just is it unusual. Is Clark losing out somehow by doing things that you like?"

"No, of course not. Clark spent a lot of time on me, but if there's any money it was always me who paid."

"You've got nothing to worry about then," I nodded, "You've not done anything wrong. Have you thought about asking someone else to do those things with you, or is it something your husband would be jealous of?"

"Well, I was going to ask you. Maybe I did, I don't know. It's always been a bit intimate, but if he doesn't want to I don't see how he could complain. He told me to go and have somebody else baby me, so he can't complain. Maybe if I get it elsewhere I can go back to him and say I won't ask again, that might be okay."

I wanted to ask how she'd answer if he wasn't happy. But that would be a bit too close to thinking about what was bothering her, and she might not be able to keep herself from worrying. If she was willing to walk out on the man she loved over this, or if he'd kicked her out, I couldn't imagine her giving it up for his sake. More likely she'd walk away from a normal and mostly functional relationship, if that was the choice she had to make. I couldn't second-guess that, though. All I could do was give her a moment of space where she didn't have to worry.

"Baby you?" I asked, keeping the questions as simple and open as possible.

"Yeah, it's kind of comforting. Sometimes I like him treating me like I'm a little kid again."

"That's natural," I answered, "How does that make you feel?" I'd heard of regression before, people who wanted to be young again. I'd almost guessed that much, and just needed her to confirm it for me. For some people it wasn't even sexual, it was just an attempt to recapture the safety and innocence of a child. But to most of the world, even some fetishists, there was something extremely wrong with treating a partner as a parent or a child.

"It's comfortable," she answered, "Like, I don't have to worry about adult thoughts any more. I can pretend I don't know what bills and taxes are, and have him just take care of me. I joked about it once, called Clark 'Daddy', and he thought it was funny. Enough to try playing those roles sometimes."

"Is it a sexual thing for you?" I had to ask. In any other circumstances the question would have made her uncomfortable regardless of the answer, but right now I could imagine she wouldn't give it a second thought.

"Sometimes. Maybe I'll call him Daddy and play like I'm fifteen or something but really naive, and then he teaches me how to get him off, and I'm imagining how it would be if I was too innocent to realise that's wrong. He likes that as a fantasy, something neither of us could imagine happening for real."

"As a fantasy, it's no worse than any other," I confirmed, "No real children, no real harm. Is that something you'd like to do more? I could probably show you how to lock away memories for a while, become innocent so you really are learning from scratch. He can really teach you without any preconceived notions."

"I don't think so. It would be nice to think like a kid, but I love being all sweet and innocent. Besides, I don't think Clark would want to play with hypnosis, he doesn't really believe in it. And I shouldn't offer to suck you off now I'm married, that would be like cheating."

"That's where you draw the line, then? At sex?"

"Yeah. He's kicked me out, but we might make up. I'm not going to be unfaithful. I won't do anything sexual or romantic with you no matter how much I want to, I decided that before I came here." Her tone was so matter-of-fact, like saying she didn't want onions on her salad. My mind raced, but I wasn't going to ask. I wasn't going to ask if she was still attracted to me, and I wasn't going to ask what the situation might be without Clark in the picture. This was about a good friend's peace of mind, not idle curiosity.

I went on, asking the questions that seemed natural to me. To Lynn, those questions were so normal that she didn't think about lying, and she didn't need to remember them afterwards. I had her count herself down, and up again, and back down a few times, as we explored the desires in her subconscious mind. I asked her what she'd done before, and what she wanted to do. There were things I might have expected there, and a few little surprises, but eventually I thought I had a pretty good idea of what she'd like to try.

* * *

I counted her up slowly, making sure she was comfortable, and then waited a little.

"Wow," she smiled. "I hardly remember... anything. I told you that I want to feel like..." It seemed she couldn't quite bring herself to say it. She knew she'd told me, but the actual words were gone from her memory. She didn't know any of the details there, just like she didn't need to remember the exact words a coworker might use when offering a coffee.

"Yes, you told me. And some of the things that you'd like to happen, too. There was one thing you weren't sure if you'll ever want it to happen, though."

"Oh no," she gasped, raising a hand to her mouth. She was surprised, clearly, but not upset. Behind the wide-eyed shock, she was still smiling, and her eyes sparkled with nervous excitement. "I didn't tell you..."

"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 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 didn't want to do it," she said again, "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 every time he mentions it, 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?"

"You like feeling helpless. And you want me to drag it out of you. 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. You can find that this idea doesn't cross your mind again for a while so you don't have to worry about it. And maybe, if you find that you do want to try it, if you're comfortable enough to go there once, then you might have a secret phrase that you can say to let me know, without having to say the words, and maybe without even realising."

"I don't think I will," she said, looking down at her own hands. "And if I did, you'd send me packing for sure. But to tell you the thing I don't have the nerve to say..."

"You're ready now? To tell me the idea that's a step too far, and to help me formulate a plan that you won't even remember, in case one day you change your mind?"

Lynn took a deep breath, and nodded.

"So what's so embarrassing to even think? What did you say that you wouldn't even consider trying?"

She told me everything, and we made a plan.

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Note: I originally wrote out the whole discussion of what she wants and what is going to happen; but figured out that frontloading all the planning isn't good for the flow of the story. I'll include parts of it in flashback when Lynn remembers it later, piece by piece after each day's adventures. The whole thing is available on my Patreon, or as a "bonus chapter" at the back of the Kindle version, but I don't think it's essential. Any better suggestions for what I can do with them would be welcome.

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On 9/2/2022 at 3:39 AM, tenck5k said:

An interesting enough start for sure. Feel free to share more, I'm sure there are interested parties on the site who would read it. I also didn't mention it on your other post, since I tend to lurk and not respond, but I appreciated that story as well. Was nice to see that type of thing end without someone trapped forever in their own mind. Some really like that type of ending, and I've seen plenty of stories that indulge it, but I'm more of an ending where things work out for involved parties, since the real world is depressing enough as is.

But I digress. Consider at least one person interested in reading what you've made.

I'm interested in seeing where this goes, also

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8 hours ago, Omo25 said:

I'm interested in seeing where this goes, also

Thanks ๐Ÿ™‚

Though I have to wonder what's going on with replies here. When I posted chapter 2, I replied to the only reply I saw after chapter 1. But today, I got notifications about 3 new replies, two of which wereย beforeย the one I had previously seen and responded to. I can't tell if it's some weird cache setting resulting in me not seeing messages, but it really bugs me that I can refresh a page several times over multiple days, and not see a new message, only for replies to appear with a date before the ones I've already seen.

Right now, the order of messages I see is Chapter 1 - zackh8 - ppbenn - tenck5k - chapter 2 - Omo25. So if there's any others I'm not seeing, hopefully I'll be able to see and respond to them later.

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Anywayโ€ฆ

A Little Break - Day 1 / Chapter 3: Logistics

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Lynn stretched, and smiled. She always seemed to do that when returning from a deep trance state. This time she was fully aware, and not waiting for any further action. I wasn't sure if she'd know that, though. Or how much she'd remember of what we'd talked about. In a way it didn't matter if she remembered or not, because I was sure she'd follow my suggestions in any case.

"Thank you," she purred, a few moments later. "I feel so... good. I don't know what you did, but I'm a lot more comfortable now."

"That's the idea," I smiled. "You told me what's been bothering you, I think that was the main thing bothering you. Now, are you comfortable with how much or how little you remember of the session?"

"I hardly remember anything. Except I can be... a little girl sometimes while I'm staying here. You're really okay with that?"

"It's not hurting anyone, is it? And not as rare as you might think. I still care about you, and if it's going to help you feel better then I'm all for it. Besides, I think you'd make a cute kid. I can just imagine you'd look so sweet with your hair in bunches. Have you ever done that?"

"No. I didn't think that much about looking little, I guess I thought more about..." she started, and then hesitated, "Am I going to?"

"You're asking me?" I raised an eyebrow, slightly amused. "Ready to surrender control so easily?"

"It's something that doesn't have any kind of downside. And I know you could make me, if you want to see me like that. I know that when you..." Her brow furrowed as she tried to remember. There was just fog in her mind, but a few details stood out firmly enough that she could see the shape of them, even if she didn't know all the things I was going to do. "If you tap my nose and say 'obey', I'll have to do it. But it's kind of hard to believe until it happens, and the anticipation is wonderful. At home I've got a few cute, girlish outfits. Mostly from when I was really close to spending enough for some special offer, or coupon, or for free delivery or something. But I've not brought most of those with me, so maybe the hair is an easy thing to help me look the part for you."

"Or we could go shopping?" I suggested. "Not to make you look good for me, but to help you feel more confident. Looking the part could help it seem more real. And with that little bag, I doubt you've got enough clothes of any description to last a week. If you're shopping anyway, you might as well buy something super cute, right?"

Lynn looked down at the backpack leaning against the end of my sofa, all she'd been able to bring. She'd first called me from the train, when she was on the way down here. Her husband kicked her out, or she wasn't comfortable staying, the story wasn't quite clear. I'd offered her a spare room and a shoulder to cry on until things blew over, but I think neither of us knew if it was going to be a couple of days, a week, or even a month before they'd had time to cool down and work out their problems.

"Yeah," she nodded, "I can probably afford some new clothes, then I could go a whole week without doing laundry, too. And if you don't mind me in fancy dress around the house, I could make some of them kiddy clothes." She looked down at her hands, and I could see the worry growing again. Clark kept tight control of their finances, I'd heard, and expected her to justify every purchase. Luxuries were for when they had coupons or some deal to take advantage of. My mind worked quickly, trying to find a way to avoid the awkwardness.

"You know, I've not got you a birthday present in at least a couple of years. So call it my treat, I'll get you some proper little girl clothes. Whatever you fancy, within reason."

"Really?" her eyes lit up, and for a second I could imagine her as a little kid, told she could go shopping. That wave of innocent excitement was one that could be worth surfing on.

"Sure. Would you like to feel little while we go round the shops, so you can pick what you think is cute?"

She drew in her breath sharply, probably thinking about all the things that could go wrong. Maybe she imagined friends seeing her in the shop acting like a child, even though there were none of our old friends closer than ten minutes train journey away. Or she could have thought about getting in serious trouble for some tantrum in public. But after a moment in thought, she nodded. I wasn't sure if she was really that confident, or if she remembered the details of my post-hypnotic suggestions completely. But I waited, to see what she would say next. I always liked to use permissive suggestions, where the trigger was both a question and a response, because the explicit consent made every suggestion that much more powerful.

After a few seconds of what could have been nervous apprehension, she realises what I was waiting for, and breathed the word.

"Yes, please."

I would have sworn she actually looked younger. Maybe it was her expression, or her body language. I couldn't put my finger on a single change, but she seemed more youthful, more energetic. Certainly happier.

"Then let's go," I grinned, "Before all the shops are closed. I can help you get settled in here later if you want."

"Thanks!" she grinned, and practically bounced over to me, and wrapped her arms around my chest without a second thought. Completely innocent, and childlike.

"But you have to be a good girl, okay?" I put on my best stern parent voice, and made a reasonable attempt to avoid giggling at it even when she did. Then I reached up and gently tapped the tip of her nose, a playful gesture that could help my directives seem less serious. "Now, obey! You're eight years old, and you're super excited about getting to pick out clothes for yourself. But you're going to be on your best behaviour, trying to prove that you're old enough to do this more often. Okay? Obey! You'll get really excited about all the cute things you see, and you'll be tempted to pick everything up, or to keep talking about all the things you want, or to run around lost in excitement. But you'll be able to keep your head, and you won't really do anything that would draw attention to us. You'll keep your excitement under control so nobody else can see it, and you'll be so proud of being able to act so grown up, like it's something you've never managed before. Okay?"

She nodded twice, and I saw her eyes close momentarily as she took in those commands. The way I'd set up the suggestions in her mind, she would have to comply whenever I touched her nose and told her to obey, but asking if it was okay still made those instructions likely to last a little longer.

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17 hours ago, Kitty Angel said:

Right now, the order of messages I see is Chapter 1 - zackh8 - ppbenn - tenck5k - chapter 2 - Omo25. So if there's any others I'm not seeing, hopefully I'll be able to see and respond to them later.

When I posted, there were no other messages. My best guess is that there is some sort of hold on brand new member messages until they get screened by a mod, or something like that. Both those other accounts are basically brand new, while mine is not.

Edited by tenck5k (see edit history)
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17 hours ago, tenck5k said:

My best guess is that there is some sort of hold on brand new member messages until they get screened by a mod, or something like that. Both those other accounts are basically brand new, while mine is not.

Ah, now that makes sense. I would have expected those messages to appear at the bottom of the thread, with a date showing when they were actually posted. But at least it confirms that it isn't come weird cache issue that might cause me to miss something. Thanks ๐Ÿ™‚

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Aย Little Break - Day 1 / Chapter 4: Shopping

It was the little things that really made a difference. Lynn giggled on the way to the Mercer Centre, commenting how everything felt different. She said the car felt huge, like she was smaller again, and she seemed excited enough to babble about every little thing she noticed, whether it was how cute the sheep were in a field beside the road, or the size of the buildings, or the sparkly lights up the side of a tower. She was inclined to point and stare at everything that caught her attention, and even bubbled over enthusiastically when she noticed how differently she was behaving. And not one word escaped her lips that wasn't accompanied by laughing and smiling.

When we got to the centre, I found the perfect space was available. It was right next to the parent and child spaces, offering less distance to walk to the nearest entrance, but the bay didn't actually have a symbol painted on the asphalt. Lynn was staring at the sign, showing a parental stick-figure pushing a child in a buggy, that she didn't seem to notice we'd stopped until I'd already dashed round to the passenger side of the car. I opened the door for her like a perfect gentleman, and then bent down slightly to unbuckle her seat belt for her. Just like when we'd set off, she blushed but couldn't hide her joy at the simple things that made her new childhood seem so real. Taking her hand to extricate her arm from the seat belt made her feel like she couldn't do it for herself, and the fantasy was just that real.

"You can't park here, Daddy!" she gasped, "These spaces are for real childrens!" And then another blush, and a grin so wide you might think the top of her head was going to fall off as she heard what she'd just said.

"Hey, I can't help it!" she gasped. "I really can't. Oh gods, thank you so much!" She hugged me close again.

"You're adorable. You really are. And don't worry, I know what I'm doing. I wouldn't break the rules." She nodded, and accepted that. Of course, as a parent figure she would trust me completely, and if I said we were allowed to park here, she knew I was right. I was glad that worked, so I could park next to the parent and child sign without having to explain why. Every little detail to make the experience more immersive. And knowing I could give so much joy made my heart soar too.

We were going to get clothes, but the Mercer Centre was home to many, many kinds of shops on three levels. We went in by George Gate, which for some reason was the name they gave to the entrance in the northern corner. Maybe that was a good choice, because almost as soon as we passed through the doors, Lynn was drifting off to one side, her attention grabbed by something in the window of Toy King.

I hurried over to see what she was looking at, but allowed her a minute of freedom first. She was looking at a display of dolls, or action figures. They seemed to be dressed in some kind of superhero outfits, which I could imagine would be primary-coloured spandex in TV or movies. It wasn't quite clear if they were marketed at boys or girls, to my eyes at least, and I wondered if the toymakers of the world had finally got over their obsession with blue and pink aisles.

"Seen something you like, Princess?" I asked.

"I want one!" she jabbed a finger at the window, but it wasn't easy to see which item she was indicating. "I want to get Jodi." I nodded, and ruffled her hair a little. She wasn't raising her voice enough to attract other people's attention, and I knew well enough by now that most people didn't pay that much attention to strangers in public, so we weren't likely to disturb anyone else's shopping trip. That was one rule I always set myself, regardless of the situation: I wouldn't get strangers involved, especially not with something that might make anyone uncomfortable.

"Okay," I nodded, leaning close enough that I could speak a little more quietly, "But we need to get you some new pretty dresses, okay? We can stop and have a look at the dolls on the way back, if you want. Don't go off without telling me, okay? I don't want you to get lost."

"Okay," she nodded vigorously, and took my hand without any further prompting.

So I led her down the main street to one of the big clothes stores, and we looked through all kinds of outfits for her. She seemed to have pretty eclectic tastes at present, picking the kind of toned-down punk outfits that I'd associated with her ever since uni, but also a floral-print summer dress that looked almost buried under a mass of frills and lace.

She wasn't very focused at all, and I found it hard to keep a straight face as she selected outfits that I'm sure weren't in her size. I asked her for her sizes, and she answered after a few moments' thought. Then I could check each thing she picked up, and swap it for one in the right size. She was quite happy to hand her selections to me, and then I could follow behind, checking if I needed to change it for a different one. To anyone else, it would probably just seem like my girlfriend was too impatient to search for one of the right size. It was amazing how much fun there was to be had in shopping, and her enjoyment more than made up for any inconvenience.

I found time for a little shopping of my own, too. There were little displays at the end of the aisles, holding everything from hair clips to gifts. The mysterious items that you could rarely imagine anyone actually wanting, but that people with weak impulse control might find themselves picking up while waiting for their partner to make a choice. There were more than a few such displays devoted to childish things, so I picked up a couple of ribbons, and a pack of novelty crayons, and other things that I thought Lynn might enjoy.

There were more shops here than anybody could possibly visit in one day, but in just the first fashion store we managed to pick up six outfits. Then we came towards the fitting rooms, and she was almost skipping at the thought of trying on her new clothes. I was more attentive though, spotting the sign that said they were limited to four items.

"You can only try four things at a time," I told her, and pointed up to the notice.

"But I want all of them!"

"Don't worry, you can try the others later. You just need to pick four to try first, okay? How about the frilly one?"

"Yeah," she took the hanger back from me, and beamed at the garment, "I love this so much I hope it fits me. Can you help me put it on?"

"I don't think I'm allowed, Princess," I chuckled at the thought. I couldn't tell if that was her little joke, or if she was getting into character so well that she didn't understand why I wouldn't be allowed into the fitting room with her. In either case, it was clear she was having fun. I decided to see if I could add a little more to the situation; to help her feel more like the child she was inside.

"Obey," I whispered quickly, giving her nose the obligatory tap, "You're not as coordinated as a grown-up, and you'll find it hard to try on complicated dresses. But if you think really hard you'll be able to get it right, and then you will be so very proud of yourself. Do you think you can do that?"

"Oh yes, I'll try! Thank you." I couldn't tell if that was followed by a gasp of excitement, or a stifled giggle. But every part of a common chore seemed to be exciting her now. Maybe this was exactly what she needed, and if she could enjoy the rest of the week that much, maybe that would be all it took to get her mind back on an even keel.

She came out with each new outfit, to do a twirl and pantomime a few gestures in front of the big mirror, as well as asking my opinions. I noticed there were a few other shoppers watching her, but they clearly weren't people she knew. Everyone likes to look at a pretty girl, and Lynn had always been one to turn heads, especially when she was modelling some of the more outlandish outfits. They could have thought that she was a bit weird, or that she was showing off too much, but neither of those are things were likely to cause any trouble, and the men looking at her were unlikely to admit if they liked what they saw.

I was probably the only one who noticed that after trying on each new outfit, she asked me if she should try the next one. It wasn't a strange thing to say, but she said it every time. That let me know that my words were settling properly into her subconscious mind; she needed to ask me every time she wanted to change clothes while she was little, and she was doing it even if she seemed too excited to realise.

It took a little time before we were satisfied with all her selections, but it was fun the whole time. Some of the things I'd not quite managed to select the right size, so she sent me off to find one smaller or larger. Some didn't look as good as she'd hoped, and they got returned. When she was picking more adult outfits, work or casual, she seemed to see it like playing dress up, choosing costumes that she could use to pretend to be a grownup. That suited me fine, and I only had to give her a little guidance to make sure she had something suitable for whatever video conferencing her job might require.

It wasn't quite like going shopping with a real child, because I knew I could leave her in the fitting room with one outfit while I went to find a larger version of the last. That also allowed me a few moments to think, and to find some things she might not have thought about. I was sure that a young Lynn would enjoy some surprises later in the week.

When we left that store, I was carrying more bags than I was used to, because of course Lynn wouldn't want to carry things on her own.

"Can I carry them?" she asked as we left. Well, that surprised me. I handed her a couple of the bags, along with a stern admonition to be careful not to drop or lose them. She nodded so seriously, and I could see her attention wandering as she caught sight of movement behind me. She left some of her bags as she took off to check it out, of course. But I was pretty sure all of her critical faculties were still operating on a subconscious level, and she wouldn't really lose any of her purchases. I picked up the abandoned bags and boxes, and followed her over to see what she was gaping at.

It turned out to be the shopping centre's mascot, Mercury. A giant tiger with blue and white stripes, I was sure the person inside the costume must be drowning in sweat by now. But he danced and cracked jokes, entertaining some of the kids long enough to give their parents a break. We could watch a bit of the show easily enough; being about the same age as the majority of the harried parents. Nobody could tell if we were accompanied by some screaming toddler, of which there were a significant number under the watchful eyes of the centre staff.

"I'm sure we never had anything like this when I was a kid," I muttered thoughtfully, "Shopping centres had a mascot, but they didn't do much. Never had a costumed show going across the food court, luring kids over to the creche like a furry childcatcher. Commercials didn't turn into a ten minute cartoon spot on TV, to try and get kids to drag their parents here. It's a good idea though. You know it's educational?"

"I watch it sometimes," Lynn nodded, "I wish I could play."

"Yeah," I nodded, "I'll try to make something happen for you, but not today. Okay, Princess?" I wasn't sure what I was really offering there; the attention of a guy in a big furry character costume was probably an awesome thing for today's kids, but probably wouldn't be the same without other kids sharing the experience. But I also thought there must be a way to bring her some kind of analogous situation, something that would stand in for a hug from Mercury the Tiger.

The show was over pretty quickly, and then the furry character and his helpers moved on to the next location. I did notice that their route passed by as many toy stores as could reasonably be expected, but kept the cynical thought to myself.

I took Lynn's hand again, and waited for her to stop hugging me before I led us towards the next store. There were a few things we'd need if she was staying for any length of time. The bed in my spare room only had one set of sheets, which were white and green, and looked like something that would be right at home in a hospital. Most guests stayed for one night or two, but I was going to need to have some spares if she was staying long enough to need them washed.

"Can't I use your ones?" she looked up at me, puzzled, when I explained.

"My bed's king size. The spare one's only a single. And fitted sheets don't fit that well on a different bed."

"I want a king size too. Sounds posh. Or queen sized, for girls." She looked puzzled for a moment, and blushed a little. I could tell she was aware how selfish that sounded, even if the thought had taken a couple of seconds to land. Maybe not thinking things through was all part of a childish mindset to her. Of course, any mention of royalty would get her attention, possibly catalysed by me earlier calling her...

"How about princess size?" I gave my counter-offer, "It's a bit smaller, but I'm sure we can dress the bed up with extra frills to remind you what a good little girl you are."

"Yes!" She beamed, pushing just a little on the prohibition against raising her voice in public. It was starting to tire me just thinking about what mood she was in now, it only took a single sentence to turn her from petulant to joyful, and I didn't want to take my attention away from her in case any of her earlier stress or anxiety were to return.

It was quite easy to find duvet covers bearing a startling array of princesses, and other characters from the current crop of children's' television. I wondered if Lynn would pick the ones she thought were cute, or if she'd actually watched enough kids TV to be familiar with the characters. To my surprise, she danced around the displays looking at a wide range of different things, and seemed to spend a lot of time thinking. When she approached me again, she had one finger below her lips to symbolise just how much she was thinking about this. Maybe she thought that would make me more likely to agree with what she was saying, or maybe she just imagined it was a childlike thing to do. Either way, it was cute as hell, and I actually had to remind myself that she wasn't a real child.

"How many can I pick?" she asked after much theatrical pondering. I responded with a thoughtful "Hmm..." of my own for a while before answering.

"I think you might need two," I said when I thought she'd had enough anticipation, "So one can get washed while you're sleeping on the other one. Any maybe if you're good, I can let you have another one just in case you spill something on one of them. Does that sound good?"

A couple of vigorous nods, and then she was pointing out all the covers that she liked. There were about six of them, but as she went through she managed to filter them down to three in a kind of decisive babble, comparing every possible detail. I couldn't follow it, much less repeat it, but I'm sure she finally settled between two princess duvet sets based on one of them having her own car in the background of the picture. Her final choice was a cartoon princess I didn't remember, one with frills around the edge and a pattern of hearts, stars, and rainbows ("If I'm gonna feel like a princess, I wanna have one that doesn't have another princess on!"), and one baring a detail of the same characters she'd been staring at in the toy store window. There was a dinosaur in the back of the image, and one of the androgynous shapes was carrying a sword, which made me wonder if this was a show originally aimed at little boys. But then two of the others, dressed in pink and yellow, were sporting a rather overdramatic electric guitar and microphone, and miniskirts over coloured leggings.

I reserved judgement, and bought her the three styles she'd chosen without complaint. I added a lamp shade bearing the same cartoon heroes as we passed them on the way to the checkout. Apparently, they were Sparkling Thunder Presence, which left me no clearer as to what kind of show or movie they came from. The packaging said it had built in Phantasmagoric Crystal Cells, though the parts visible inside the box suggested these were little prisms of some kind of coloured plastic designed to project images of various characters on the walls. It also said kids could have hours of fun watching them, which I found awfully unlikely, but I gambled that Lynn would be entertained by the images, however briefly, and I was also quite confident that there would be some interesting way to use the projected images in a post-hypnotic suggestion if this experiment continued long enough. I already had a lot of ideas of things I could try to help boost her enjoyment, but opening out a new field of possibilities was always a good thing.

Lynn was certainly impressed. She bounded towards me with a tight hug as we stood in line, and kissed my chest followed by murmurs in which the words 'thank you' were just about distinguishable a couple of times.

"Hey," I was grinning too as I patted her on the head again, "You deserve nice things. I care about what entertains you, not what any kind of authority says you should like. Maybe you can introduce me to these guys later, so I know which one's Jodi."

There wasn't that much else to say, at least not that we could say around the people who appeared to have more normal interests. I wouldn't have been surprised if every one of them had secrets just as scandalous, either kept among friends who shared their interests, or repressed and denied their whole lives. In all the time I'd spent poking through different subconscious minds, I've certainly never discovered a normal person, or even someone who honestly thinks of themselves as normal. They were all just pretending, and trying to fit in. But as long as there was a general impression of what normal was supposed to look like it, I would do my best to keep up the facade.

The next stop on our shopping trip was one where I wasn't so sure how little-Lynn would react. Looking at patterns and picking out clothes could certainly be fun, but now I'd have to lead her between plain white shelves with rows of boxes, the kind of place a little girl would quickly get bored with shopping. Of course, Lynn would behave. She knew she had to be a good girl, and she was enjoying resisting the urge to misbehave. But I hoped she would be able to continue smiling until we were done here.

I picked up a baby bottle for her, and after quickly scanning over the text on the reverse, a pack of spare teats as well. A couple of pacifiers with different designs on, leaving me stumped for a second.

"Which one do you think the baby would like?" I asked, holding out three or four options. I didn't know how a typical six year old might respond to being asked to choose a pacifier, but Lynn thought for a second and then pointed nervously. Then I went back to looking at other baby paraphernalia, wondering how many of the objects could have interesting uses. I didn't want to spend too much today, but I thought it would be worth getting at least a few accessories. I wanted to preserve a little surprise, though.

"Obey!" I whispered, as Lynn's eyes widened in surprise. "You're just a little girl, so you can't read all the labels on these boxes. They're boxes of mystery, except the ones with pictures on, and you'll find that you have no idea what I might be buying here until I show you. Okay?"

Lynn nodded. As I picked up a couple more things she was craning her neck, trying to see if there were pictures on the boxes, but it was easy enough to keep the surprise intact. After a few minutes, I thought I had enough different things that we were bound to find something that would surprise her in there; and I was also carrying about as many bags and boxes as I could without dropping them. It was a blessing that the pharmacy here had a whole department devoted to baby things, because it meant that I could pick up a couple of bath toys, pacifiers, a bib, a bottle, and a set of suitable infantile tableware in one place. I didn't know how many of these things she'd tried before, but given her statement about paying for everything herself, I suspected much of this would be new to her.

Lynn helped me to carry the bags, and as I'd expected she didn't have any trouble carrying them when we both had our hands full. We didn't even have to stop at the toy store to check out other Sparkling Thunder Presence toys, because she was more than a little excited about getting home to find out what all of her new treats were. That was a blessing when we were both so heavily laden with purchases. I'd even thought about using the 'obey' suggestion to make sure she wanted to go straight home, but I didn't need to this time.

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Aย Little Break - Day 1 / Chapter 5: Bedtime

We were both tired on getting back to my place, and I just wanted to rest. But there was still work to be done. Once we'd put the bags down, Lynn leaned in close to me, blushing crimson. I could have guessed what she wanted, but this time I waited for her to say the words.

"Can I go to the bathroom, please?" Her cheeks turned red as she said it, but the embarrassment in her eyes was clearly tempered by excitement. She loved that she had to ask, and it must have taken a little effort for her to keep from grinning.

"Good girl," I answered, and a gentle pat on her head was all it took to set that secret smile free. "Of course you can. I'll get started unpacking, and you can help me when you're ready. Unless you need some help...?" I left the question hanging. Lynn shook her head vigorously, not ready to be that little yet, and ran to the bathroom. While I waited for her, I carried the bags up to the spare room โ€“ her room now โ€“ and assessed the jobs in front of me.

I would need to put the new sheets and covers on Lynn's bed, and work out if this fancy lamp shade needed any preparation more than standing on a chair to hook it over the bare bulb. I'd also need to make sure that all her new clothes fit into the closet, and if she was going to be dressing herself under the influence of age-regression suggestions, I should probably make sure that all the tags had been removed in advance. The pacifiers, tableware, bottle, and similar items would probably need washing and some preparation before use as well. Having never had a real baby I'd have to take care in reading the instructions. For now, those were just stashed away in a utility room cupboard, to be sorted out some time later.

I'd spent a lot more than I intended in the end, but when I weighed it up, I realised that wasn't likely to be a big problem. The bedding would serve its purpose when other people wanted crash-space for a night, even if they didn't like the same characters, and it would probably delight my sister's kids if she ever agreed to let them stay so they could visit their grandfather for more than twenty minutes.

I wasn't sure how long this playtime should last now. I could ask Lynn to play while I unpacked everything. Or I could ask her to wind down, and make sure that she'd been comfortable with my behaviour during our shopping trip.

"How are you feeling?" I asked her, after one last check to make sure we'd brought all the bags out of the car. "Enjoy your shopping trip?"

"Yeah," she beamed and nodded, and took a second or two before she realised I was hoping for a more detailed answer. "It was amazing! That place was like super huge, and I couldn't remember where all the stores are so I had to keep following you, and you took control so easily, I was feeling safe and proud and giggly all at the same time. Ohh, I'm still talking like a little kid aren't I? I can't stop it, it's like I open my mouth and everything I'm thinking comes tumbling out, I can't hold onto anything long enough to worry about it, and I have to rely on you to remind me what's important. I love it! You were like buying surprises for me right under my nose, and I've got no idea what you got, and wow, it's so much to think about at once, it's like a carousel or something, everything happens so quick, it's more than I can even think about at once and I feel so little and helpless. Thank you. Thank you so much!" she hugged me tightly, and I rested one arm across her shoulders, ruffling her hair again and then patting it down neatly.

"You're incredible," she babbled, after a few seconds to get her breath back. "I never thought it could be so real. I can't thank you enough!"

"It's worth it when I see that smile. And where else would I get all the fun of looking after a little kid, without any danger of them trashing the house or something?"

She giggled at that. She understood what I was saying; she still had all her adult thoughts and knowledge, just with the overwhelming tides of emotion that a small child might experience. So she must know how tired I would be now. Maybe she was tired too.

"Okay, Princess," I looked down at her, and found a little voice in the back of my mind wondering how much the height difference added to her feelings. "I'm getting kind of tired now, I think I could use a break. Would it be okay with you if we spend some time as grown-ups now, until dinner time? Don't want you to be little miss cranky-pants, do we?"

"You could let me have an afternoon nap like a little baby?" she grinned, but she knew she was pushing her luck there. "No, you've done enough for one day. I can grow up a bit and then we can talk about it properly?"

"Okay," I nodded, but had to repeat the question: "Are you ready to be grown up now?" Her answer was a gentle nod, the kind that you might not even notice if you hadn't been carefully watching for them all day. And then she moved her shoulders slightly, turned her hips to one side and the other, and eventually broke the hug to stretch her arms. Stretching out every muscle like a drawn-out, whole-body yawn, and when she'd finished her posture and body language were different in a million tiny ways I couldn't quite put my finger on. She wasn't a little girl any more, she was clearly an adult, but I wasn't quite sure what made it so easy to tell the difference.

"You know," she mused, the amusement in her tone almost completely hidden now, "I should probably stop standing so close to you now I'm an adult again. I don't know how you managed to endure so many hugs today without getting excited."

"It was tough," I agreed, but still didn't move my hands from her shoulders. "But you're a friend, that's the important thing. And the way you talk, the way you move, everything changes. It's easy to start thinking of you as a real child, so obviously there were no inappropriate thoughts in my mind."

"Even with these?" she moved just slightly, drawing my attention to her breasts pressed hard against my stomach and chest. "Don't think I'm that hard to notice."

"You're very... noticeable," I reassured her, and I was sure that she would be able to feel that for herself pretty soon. "And right now, there's no way I could fail to notice. You don't realise how much of that is in the way you move, though. It completely changes the way people see you, and when you're feeling little, you act it as well." I could feel her arm moving behind me as I spoke, and for half a second I was sure she was about to grab my ass, pull me harder against her. In the circumstances, I might not have had the self control to resist. But she stopped at the last moment, and moved away instead.

"I don't want to hurt Clark," she said, carefully shaping the words, "I've caused him enough worry already, I'm not going to cheat on him."

"Yes," agreeing was about all I could do. "Hugs should be reserved for times they're completely innocent. That's probably best for everyone. So, how about this evening? We could relax and watch TV for a while before dinner, and then I could show you around the house, get all your new stuff hung up. And check everything's okay. I mean, you were really excitable and bouncy while we were shopping, but I think you picked enough decent clothes to make sure you won't be short of choice this week."

"Yeah, you did good. It's like remembering a dream, almost. Like I was planning costumes to dress up for a party, and seeing my work image and casual outfits as like characters I was trying to get all the pieces for. I never imagined you could do something like that."

"Like what?"

"Kind of feeling like a little kid, and acting like a little kid, but still doing the things I need to do. I was kinda disappointed you couldn't come and help me get changed, though."

"Is that an innocent, childlike kind of disappointment?"

"Well, maybe a bit of both. You're too much of a gentleman for that, though. If you-know-who says he doesn't want me back after a couple of weeks, then maybe we should change the ground rules some."

I wasn't sure what to say to that either. She'd pretty much confessed she was attracted to me while compelled to tell the truth; more than she'd ever admitted before. But I wasn't sure if that was what she really wanted.

I could put the coffee pot on, and let her get comfortable in the lounge, at least. The rest of the evening was a little more practical. I didn't lift out a set of pink and yellow plastic forks and a tiny bowl for her; figuring that while this was still a relatively new experience I should let her get used to her little girl mind gradually. One experience each day, unless she specifically asked for more. And the surprises would be rolled out one at a time, so they would continue to be surprises, rather than overwhelming her all at once.

I showed Lynn where I kept stuff in the kitchen, in case she wanted to prepare food for herself. But we agreed that while I was more comfortable in the kitchen and actually enjoyed cooking, she was content to put up with whatever I felt like making. Obviously, if she was a little girl at meal times, she would be expected to eat what she was given. That came with a little smirk; I knew just how much she enjoyed being told what to do, and it seemed that being young and innocent just changed the type of enjoyment, without diminishing it at all. We touched a few times on when she'd be regressed. I said I might have a few ideas for particular parts of the daily routine, but that I'd do my best whenever she felt in the mood. I said that once a day was probably good, at a different time each day so as to keep it fresh, but that was ultimately her choice. I probably said three times that she should always let me know if there was anything in particular she'd like to try.

"I'm not actually sure what to do with the decor," I admitted, "We've got princess stuff, and a set with these Sparkling Thunder guys. I didn't stop to think if you might want something more sensible for adult nights. I kind of got carried away on the 'shopping with a little kid' thing."

"If it's a real adult night, I'm more likely not in my own bed," she shrugged, "Not to sayโ€“ I mean, that's not likely to be happening while I'm here, you know? If I'm working late, I'll be dog tired and pass out as soon as I hit the sheets, so I won't care what the bed looks like. And well... it's a bit hard to admit, but..."

"Do I need to make you say?"

"Not this time, as much as I'd like that. I guess I didn't tell you everything before, it's hard to know when I don't remember telling you anything. But it's one thing I asked about a few times before, and he said maybe. And then after I mentioned... something I won't even go into, he was dead against it. I mean, I can see what he's thinking, but I felt like I'd lost my chance at something I'd have really liked..."

"Don't worry, you don't have to tell me anything you're not comfortable sharing. If I can help you with something, I will."

"Well it's just, when I've got to behave for some reason, I get a bit too excited at bedtime, and that makes it hard to sleep. Even if I'm not climbing into your bed in the middle of the night, which I promise I'll avoid. And I wondered if I could try to imagine myself sleeping like a little kid. Maybe a bedtime story or something, as a bookend for the day, if that's not too much?"

"You're adorable," I grinned and patted her on the head, "Even when you're being grown-up. Yes, that's fine. If neither of us is working, you can have a bedtime story each night, and then sleep feeling extra sweet and innocent. So, would you like to have a shade on the light before bedtime?"

"Oh yeah, you got a fancy STP one didn't you?" she pronounced it almost like 'stop', a detail I noted so I could get it right later. "I was so excited when I saw you'd picked it up, I didn't pay much attention to what it really is. The picture on the box had a kid surrounded by spirit ghosts or something, is it holographic?"

"No idea, but I thought it's got to be better than a bare bulb."

"What will your friends think when they come to visit?" she asked, "Think you've got a secret kid you never tell them about?" I had to think for a few seconds before answering that one. I really hadn't thought about it that much, but I knew it would be a good idea to have a room suitable for a little girl sometimes. How much should I share?

"Most of my friends know I've been having some trouble lately. My sister won't bring her kids to see Dad unless it's something about her potential inheritance. She says my niece, Gabriella, doesn't like staying in hotels because it's weird and she gets scared, so the only time they come back to visit is surrounded by hours on the train. If they could stay here sometimes, maybe they'd visit more often. That's a good enough reason to do up the room on its own, I think, I just never realised until we were picking out the bedding. I don't know what Gabby likes, but there might be something she'd be happy to use in one of those sets." This time it was Lynn's turn to be silent for a while.

"I guess that's pretty neat. So, let's get this light set up, and you can tell me what's missing."

It didn't turn out that hard to finish making the room pretty. She picked out the STP covers, blushing slightly, to match the light. It turned out to have a half dozen pieces of coloured plastic in the sides, alternating with pictures of the same characters I'd seen earlier. They projected faint coloured smudges on the walls, that you might take to be some kind of monsters from the show, dancing around the room to protect a child's dreams. It seemed that there were also a couple of LEDs included, so the projected animals could appear while the main light was off, but I wasn't so confident connecting that up for now, and wasn't sure it would work with an energy-saving bulb that said it wasn't compatible with dimmer switches, so we left it off for now.

It wasn't bedtime yet, even for a little girl, and we were both thankfully free of any work commitments for the coming week. So I suggested she could hunt through my movie collection and find something to watch for the rest of the evening, a nice wind down after a long and productive day. She had a better idea, quickly finding a certain cartoon on one of the on-demand services.

"I thought maybe you'd be interested in what I've been watching," she explained, "I wanted to see if I could get all the negative thoughts out of my head by distracting myself with something completely mindless, for kids. And then I realised the plot's more complex than you think, and it's actually a decent story under all the over-the-top special effects and character relationships telegraphed with a mallet. Like, it's for kids so you don't get so much subtlety, but there's a lot of depth to it, you know?" She was starting to sound defensive, so I reassured her that I wasn't going to judge, and she pressed play.

It really was a pretty good show, once I allowed myself to watch it without wondering about who the intended audience was. The main characters seemed to be a couple of girls whose age was never specified, but probably early teens or pre-teens. They had to take time out from school sometimes, because they were also secretly dancers with a hugely successful pop group, Sparkling Thunder Pressure. But it turned out that these guys had music so good, even the spirits of ancient civilisations would get up to dance, so they could lead armies of mummies or barbarians against an alien invasion.

By the end of the first episode, Lynn was starting to get excited, and she might be slipping into a childlike headspace even without my assistance. That had to be a good thing, so I let the next episode start to play without interference.

"I can't believe you're watching with me," she bubbled over, "Clark told me I'm an idiot for watching stuff like this, he says it's so shallow it's worthless, and I can't even talk about it."

"That's not fair," I had to tone down the language in my response quite a bit. I'd never expected Clark to be so dismissive of everything he didn't enjoy, but if Lynn cared about him, I wasn't going to put down any more barriers in front of their happiness. "You know, a lot of shows aimed at kids have a deeper plot that isn't so obvious, so parents who have to watch with their kids don't get bored. Is it like that? Because I think this is shaping up to be more complex than the styling implies."

"That's what I said! I want to see what you think, if it's just because I want to be a kid I'm enjoying it. And thank you so much. It's really hard not talking about the bits you haven't seen yet, but I don't want to spoil it in case the twists are neat enough to surprise a real full-time adult."

I poured myself a glass of wine at some point, and offered Lynn one too. She wasn't particularly childish tonight, so I thought it was only fair to let her choose for herself. After another episode, I let it roll on to a third, and a fourth. They were only twenty minutes each, so it was easy to think there was time for just one more. And she was right, it was possible to get invested in this story without any need to think childishly. I found that the main characters' parents were pretty interesting too. Like there were all these adult problems going on, like racism, infidelity, and workplace nepotism. There were hints there in the dialogue, but presented in such a way that it was never explicitly stated, and you might never even spot the signs if you hadn't spent a lifetime watching the way people behave. Like a whole second show, a lot darker, that you had to put together from the faintest hints. I suspected the managers who'd approved the show didn't see that, and the kids it was aimed at certainly didn't. It could only be something to keep the parent audience hooked, playing out a soap in the background.

Lynn probably didn't see that, and I wasn't going to point it out. But she laughed when the characters referenced TV and movies that had been popular ten or twenty years before, and even more obscure things.

We watched one more episode, and another, and I had to admire how well put together the cliffhangers were. You wanted to see what came next, and didn't realise you were starting to care about Tyler and Jodi almost like they were real people. I still couldn't remember which name belonged to which character for all of them, but I was caught up in their adventures enough that I wanted to watch just another episode before bed.

I only stopped when I realised that Lynn was fast asleep, draped across the arm of the sofa. She looked so peaceful there, sweet and innocent, but she might have a stiff neck in the morning. So I carefully picked her up and carried her to the spare room. Her room as it would be for the next few days.

I tucked her in, and looked back at her sleeping so contently before I closed the door. I could only hope that the rest of the week would go so well.

ย 

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Thanks ๐Ÿ™‚

ย 

Dreaming

Lynn was crawling around on the floor, playing with her toys. She had everything she wanted, from trucks in primary colours to plush dinosaurs, action figures, and millions of dolls with a wardrobe to dress them from. She was happy there, even if she kind of knew it wasn't for real. Sometimes the ground under her hands and knees was thick carpet, as soft as a cuddly kitten, and sometimes it was sand or grass when she wanted to dig, or to run around.

"Just forgetting things probably isn't good,"ย she heard a voice boom across the sky. She looked up and saw only stars. That wasn't strange, though. She knew she was dreaming. And she dimly recognised my voice. Daddy's voice, that she could always trust.ย "You're only forgetting this chat so that everything's a nice surprise. You'll remember it later, so you can tell me how much it was like you expected."

"When will I remember?"ย This time the voice in the sky was Lynn's own. She didn't know why she was hearing her own voice, but it was saying kind of the things she was thinking, so she knew it wasn't a fake. Or more like it was saying the things she would say if she was big enough to understand my voice. She was just a little girl now, and she didn't need to think about it. But on some level she could remember, and she knew that she needed to know what the voices were saying. So she could tell me if there was anything wrong with it, or so she could tell me if she had any new ideas.

"You can remember in your dreams,"ย I answered quickly. Lynn just nodded, that seemed like a great idea. Especially as she was dreaming right now. She could remember what she'd asked for in this dream, and in the morning tell me if I'd got it right.ย "Our discussion will come back in your dreams. And when you're an adult again, you'll be able to remember clearly. You'll know if what I gave you was what you asked for, and if there were any details that didn't go quite right, you'll be able to decide if you want to try again, so you can ask me later. It might just be a dream, but it'll bring your memories back."

"That make sense," Lynn mumbled, her lips a little clumsier than usual, just like her hands. She found herself laughing a little at the unexpected lisp, and wondering if she'd still have it when she woke up. But that wasn't something to worry about. She was happy to feel so little, and she knew that she'd enjoy it whether she remembered or not.

"That makes sense,"ย her grown-up voice echoed across the starry sky.ย "I guess I could just remember afterwards, but having it come back in a dream makes it... I don't know the words. Easier to fit back into my memories, if I remember dreaming it."

"That's right. When you choose to seal away your memories, you're cutting them off from the events before and after the session. Like burning a bridge, so even if you explore your memory, there's no path to follow. By dreaming the missing minutes, you build a new path to let you remember them afterwards. Now, I'm going to ask you to imagine a couple of things, and you can tell me which ones you like. And then we'll let those suggestions sink into your mind, so you can experience them, and then I'll ask you some more questions. You can choose to forget if you'd prefer it to be a surprise. But each time we play out one of the scenes I asked you about, or do something you told me you might like, it will be followed by a dream of the time we talked about that thing. Okay?"

"Yes," Lynn nodded and agreed at the same time as the voice in the sky. She was having fun, but she was enjoying listening too. It would be fun to be surprised, but it would be fun to know as well.

"Good. Now, are there any particular things you'd like to try? Things you're intending to ask for, or things you would like me to surprise you with?"

"Well, a lot of times Clark would teฮผฮฟฯ… ฮปฮญฮตฮน ฯŒฯ„ฮน ฮตฮฏฮผฮฑฮน..."ย the words slowly changed into a collection of sounds that Lynn couldn't recognise. She didn't know what letters went with those sounds, or what they meant. But that was fine, she thought. She was only a little girl now, she didn't need to understand every grown-up conversation around her. She didn't need to think about the big words at all.

She went back to playing, and she didn't notice when the conversation over her head faded into silence. There were much more important things for a good little girl to do.

She was in a different dream before she heard the voices again. A conversation she'd forgotten, but something it was time to remember.

"What about things you'd like to try?" I asked. It seemed an obvious next question, and Lynn paused to think about it a little. She didn't seem embarrassed at all, more like I was asking her favourite icecream flavour or something equally trivial.

"I don't know," she answered after a brief pause. "It's hard to think, because I don't know that much about how children act, really. None of our friends have kids, and I think the ones on TV seem to always be played for laughs. Too exaggerated."

"I can understand that. Always over the top, I suppose. But I think you've got some ideas, to be thinking about this in the first place. Whether it's a half-formed wish or a half-forgotten memory from your own childhood, if there's anything you've thought of, it would be good to know."

"I suppose so. The main place I see children these days is at the mall. You know, they always seem so happy. Excited about everything, running to stare in the toy store windows, their parents trailing after trying to keep them under control., Especially if you go somewhere big, like Meadowhall or Mercer, they're everywhere. And they're nearly always smiling. I mean, like even shopping for a dishwasher or something, in shops you wouldn't think have anything for kids, if their family brings them in they'll be staring up at the bright coloured displays, trying to read the labels on things, maybe tripping up the staff, you know? Kids too young to have learned to be bored, when everything's new and interesting."

"That sounds like you thought about it a lot," I answered with a big grin. That was something I'd never thought about before. But I was sure it was something I could make use of, and Lynn could probably tell that from my expression. "If you'd like to be the kid at the shops, I'm sure we can manage that. Just have to be careful, to make sure we're not really causing any trouble for anyone else. I've seen kids like that around, I know just what you mean. They usually get away with being a little annoying because they're cute, but we'd have to be more careful."

"I suppose you would. I never thought about it too much because I don't think I could get into the little girl mindset with other people around. But I bet you could make it easier for me, couldn't you? How would you go about making me not annoy anyone? I mean, without me having to think about it all the time? Is this going to be a hallucinated shopping trip?"

"Could be," I nodded. She already knew I could make her see things that weren't there, so that playing make-believe seemed almost real. But it was never quite real, always a little bit dreamlike. "I think I've got a better idea, though. Some parts I'd like to ask you about, and some that would be better as a surprise. How about I describe a few situations to you, and you can imagine one by one. And you can tell me how you think you'd feel as you imagine each one, and how you'd feel when you remembered it later. Does that sound good?"

"I can do that."

"Okay. Would you like to count down for me, to go a little deeper?" I finished the sentence, although it was clear by that point that Lynn was already counting, and nodding.

Lynn went back to her dolls. She could probably remember the scenes I'd asked her to imagine, but she really didn't need to. Those memories were fading away now, the trial-and-error bits that she didn't need to dream about. There were some situations to imagine, and she'd picked the bits she liked. A lot of them were very similar to things she'd done that day, like walking away towards the toy store, or getting excited and picking more clothes than she really needed. She'd told me the scenes that she liked, and then I'd woven them together into something she could feel that day.

Then we'd gone on to talk about other things that might be on her mind, like a posthypnotic suggestion to make her obey on the spot, in case there was anything I'd need to change while it was happening. In a matter-of-fact way, she'd asked me to use that a little more often, because obeying instructions always made her feel safe, and controlled, and little. Of course, I could agree to that. And then we'd gone on to discuss bedtime stories, just a brief mention, and some ideas she'd had that she might like to try later in the week.

She couldn't resist trying to listen in on those, but they somehow sounded like a foreign language. She still had all her memories, but to make her feel littler she couldn't remember all of them. It would always be a surprise, and that just made her look forward to the morning even more, while she sank back into a restful, dreamless sleep.

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On 9/10/2022 at 9:47 AM, Kitty Angel said:

Aย Little Break - Day 1 / Chapter 5: Bedtime

We were both tired on getting back to my place, and I just wanted to rest. But there was still work to be done. Once we'd put the bags down, Lynn leaned in close to me, blushing crimson. I could have guessed what she wanted, but this time I waited for her to say the words.

"Can I go to the bathroom, please?" Her cheeks turned red as she said it, but the embarrassment in her eyes was clearly tempered by excitement. She loved that she had to ask, and it must have taken a little effort for her to keep from grinning.

"Good girl," I answered, and a gentle pat on her head was all it took to set that secret smile free. "Of course you can. I'll get started unpacking, and you can help me when you're ready. Unless you need some help...?" I left the question hanging. Lynn shook her head vigorously, not ready to be that little yet, and ran to the bathroom. While I waited for her, I carried the bags up to the spare room โ€“ her room now โ€“ and assessed the jobs in front of me.

I would need to put the new sheets and covers on Lynn's bed, and work out if this fancy lamp shade needed any preparation more than standing on a chair to hook it over the bare bulb. I'd also need to make sure that all her new clothes fit into the closet, and if she was going to be dressing herself under the influence of age-regression suggestions, I should probably make sure that all the tags had been removed in advance. The pacifiers, tableware, bottle, and similar items would probably need washing and some preparation before use as well. Having never had a real baby I'd have to take care in reading the instructions. For now, those were just stashed away in a utility room cupboard, to be sorted out some time later.

I'd spent a lot more than I intended in the end, but when I weighed it up, I realised that wasn't likely to be a big problem. The bedding would serve its purpose when other people wanted crash-space for a night, even if they didn't like the same characters, and it would probably delight my sister's kids if she ever agreed to let them stay so they could visit their grandfather for more than twenty minutes.

I wasn't sure how long this playtime should last now. I could ask Lynn to play while I unpacked everything. Or I could ask her to wind down, and make sure that she'd been comfortable with my behaviour during our shopping trip.

"How are you feeling?" I asked her, after one last check to make sure we'd brought all the bags out of the car. "Enjoy your shopping trip?"

"Yeah," she beamed and nodded, and took a second or two before she realised I was hoping for a more detailed answer. "It was amazing! That place was like super huge, and I couldn't remember where all the stores are so I had to keep following you, and you took control so easily, I was feeling safe and proud and giggly all at the same time. Ohh, I'm still talking like a little kid aren't I? I can't stop it, it's like I open my mouth and everything I'm thinking comes tumbling out, I can't hold onto anything long enough to worry about it, and I have to rely on you to remind me what's important. I love it! You were like buying surprises for me right under my nose, and I've got no idea what you got, and wow, it's so much to think about at once, it's like a carousel or something, everything happens so quick, it's more than I can even think about at once and I feel so little and helpless. Thank you. Thank you so much!" she hugged me tightly, and I rested one arm across her shoulders, ruffling her hair again and then patting it down neatly.

"You're incredible," she babbled, after a few seconds to get her breath back. "I never thought it could be so real. I can't thank you enough!"

"It's worth it when I see that smile. And where else would I get all the fun of looking after a little kid, without any danger of them trashing the house or something?"

She giggled at that. She understood what I was saying; she still had all her adult thoughts and knowledge, just with the overwhelming tides of emotion that a small child might experience. So she must know how tired I would be now. Maybe she was tired too.

"Okay, Princess," I looked down at her, and found a little voice in the back of my mind wondering how much the height difference added to her feelings. "I'm getting kind of tired now, I think I could use a break. Would it be okay with you if we spend some time as grown-ups now, until dinner time? Don't want you to be little miss cranky-pants, do we?"

"You could let me have an afternoon nap like a little baby?" she grinned, but she knew she was pushing her luck there. "No, you've done enough for one day. I can grow up a bit and then we can talk about it properly?"

"Okay," I nodded, but had to repeat the question: "Are you ready to be grown up now?" Her answer was a gentle nod, the kind that you might not even notice if you hadn't been carefully watching for them all day. And then she moved her shoulders slightly, turned her hips to one side and the other, and eventually broke the hug to stretch her arms. Stretching out every muscle like a drawn-out, whole-body yawn, and when she'd finished her posture and body language were different in a million tiny ways I couldn't quite put my finger on. She wasn't a little girl any more, she was clearly an adult, but I wasn't quite sure what made it so easy to tell the difference.

"You know," she mused, the amusement in her tone almost completely hidden now, "I should probably stop standing so close to you now I'm an adult again. I don't know how you managed to endure so many hugs today without getting excited."

"It was tough," I agreed, but still didn't move my hands from her shoulders. "But you're a friend, that's the important thing. And the way you talk, the way you move, everything changes. It's easy to start thinking of you as a real child, so obviously there were no inappropriate thoughts in my mind."

"Even with these?" she moved just slightly, drawing my attention to her breasts pressed hard against my stomach and chest. "Don't think I'm that hard to notice."

"You're very... noticeable," I reassured her, and I was sure that she would be able to feel that for herself pretty soon. "And right now, there's no way I could fail to notice. You don't realise how much of that is in the way you move, though. It completely changes the way people see you, and when you're feeling little, you act it as well." I could feel her arm moving behind me as I spoke, and for half a second I was sure she was about to grab my ass, pull me harder against her. In the circumstances, I might not have had the self control to resist. But she stopped at the last moment, and moved away instead.

"I don't want to hurt Clark," she said, carefully shaping the words, "I've caused him enough worry already, I'm not going to cheat on him."

"Yes," agreeing was about all I could do. "Hugs should be reserved for times they're completely innocent. That's probably best for everyone. So, how about this evening? We could relax and watch TV for a while before dinner, and then I could show you around the house, get all your new stuff hung up. And check everything's okay. I mean, you were really excitable and bouncy while we were shopping, but I think you picked enough decent clothes to make sure you won't be short of choice this week."

"Yeah, you did good. It's like remembering a dream, almost. Like I was planning costumes to dress up for a party, and seeing my work image and casual outfits as like characters I was trying to get all the pieces for. I never imagined you could do something like that."

"Like what?"

"Kind of feeling like a little kid, and acting like a little kid, but still doing the things I need to do. I was kinda disappointed you couldn't come and help me get changed, though."

"Is that an innocent, childlike kind of disappointment?"

"Well, maybe a bit of both. You're too much of a gentleman for that, though. If you-know-who says he doesn't want me back after a couple of weeks, then maybe we should change the ground rules some."

I wasn't sure what to say to that either. She'd pretty much confessed she was attracted to me while compelled to tell the truth; more than she'd ever admitted before. But I wasn't sure if that was what she really wanted.

I could put the coffee pot on, and let her get comfortable in the lounge, at least. The rest of the evening was a little more practical. I didn't lift out a set of pink and yellow plastic forks and a tiny bowl for her; figuring that while this was still a relatively new experience I should let her get used to her little girl mind gradually. One experience each day, unless she specifically asked for more. And the surprises would be rolled out one at a time, so they would continue to be surprises, rather than overwhelming her all at once.

I showed Lynn where I kept stuff in the kitchen, in case she wanted to prepare food for herself. But we agreed that while I was more comfortable in the kitchen and actually enjoyed cooking, she was content to put up with whatever I felt like making. Obviously, if she was a little girl at meal times, she would be expected to eat what she was given. That came with a little smirk; I knew just how much she enjoyed being told what to do, and it seemed that being young and innocent just changed the type of enjoyment, without diminishing it at all. We touched a few times on when she'd be regressed. I said I might have a few ideas for particular parts of the daily routine, but that I'd do my best whenever she felt in the mood. I said that once a day was probably good, at a different time each day so as to keep it fresh, but that was ultimately her choice. I probably said three times that she should always let me know if there was anything in particular she'd like to try.

"I'm not actually sure what to do with the decor," I admitted, "We've got princess stuff, and a set with these Sparkling Thunder guys. I didn't stop to think if you might want something more sensible for adult nights. I kind of got carried away on the 'shopping with a little kid' thing."

"If it's a real adult night, I'm more likely not in my own bed," she shrugged, "Not to sayโ€“ I mean, that's not likely to be happening while I'm here, you know? If I'm working late, I'll be dog tired and pass out as soon as I hit the sheets, so I won't care what the bed looks like. And well... it's a bit hard to admit, but..."

"Do I need to make you say?"

"Not this time, as much as I'd like that. I guess I didn't tell you everything before, it's hard to know when I don't remember telling you anything. But it's one thing I asked about a few times before, and he said maybe. And then after I mentioned... something I won't even go into, he was dead against it. I mean, I can see what he's thinking, but I felt like I'd lost my chance at something I'd have really liked..."

"Don't worry, you don't have to tell me anything you're not comfortable sharing. If I can help you with something, I will."

"Well it's just, when I've got to behave for some reason, I get a bit too excited at bedtime, and that makes it hard to sleep. Even if I'm not climbing into your bed in the middle of the night, which I promise I'll avoid. And I wondered if I could try to imagine myself sleeping like a little kid. Maybe a bedtime story or something, as a bookend for the day, if that's not too much?"

"You're adorable," I grinned and patted her on the head, "Even when you're being grown-up. Yes, that's fine. If neither of us is working, you can have a bedtime story each night, and then sleep feeling extra sweet and innocent. So, would you like to have a shade on the light before bedtime?"

"Oh yeah, you got a fancy STP one didn't you?" she pronounced it almost like 'stop', a detail I noted so I could get it right later. "I was so excited when I saw you'd picked it up, I didn't pay much attention to what it really is. The picture on the box had a kid surrounded by spirit ghosts or something, is it holographic?"

"No idea, but I thought it's got to be better than a bare bulb."

"What will your friends think when they come to visit?" she asked, "Think you've got a secret kid you never tell them about?" I had to think for a few seconds before answering that one. I really hadn't thought about it that much, but I knew it would be a good idea to have a room suitable for a little girl sometimes. How much should I share?

"Most of my friends know I've been having some trouble lately. My sister won't bring her kids to see Dad unless it's something about her potential inheritance. She says my niece, Gabriella, doesn't like staying in hotels because it's weird and she gets scared, so the only time they come back to visit is surrounded by hours on the train. If they could stay here sometimes, maybe they'd visit more often. That's a good enough reason to do up the room on its own, I think, I just never realised until we were picking out the bedding. I don't know what Gabby likes, but there might be something she'd be happy to use in one of those sets." This time it was Lynn's turn to be silent for a while.

"I guess that's pretty neat. So, let's get this light set up, and you can tell me what's missing."

It didn't turn out that hard to finish making the room pretty. She picked out the STP covers, blushing slightly, to match the light. It turned out to have a half dozen pieces of coloured plastic in the sides, alternating with pictures of the same characters I'd seen earlier. They projected faint coloured smudges on the walls, that you might take to be some kind of monsters from the show, dancing around the room to protect a child's dreams. It seemed that there were also a couple of LEDs included, so the projected animals could appear while the main light was off, but I wasn't so confident connecting that up for now, and wasn't sure it would work with an energy-saving bulb that said it wasn't compatible with dimmer switches, so we left it off for now.

It wasn't bedtime yet, even for a little girl, and we were both thankfully free of any work commitments for the coming week. So I suggested she could hunt through my movie collection and find something to watch for the rest of the evening, a nice wind down after a long and productive day. She had a better idea, quickly finding a certain cartoon on one of the on-demand services.

"I thought maybe you'd be interested in what I've been watching," she explained, "I wanted to see if I could get all the negative thoughts out of my head by distracting myself with something completely mindless, for kids. And then I realised the plot's more complex than you think, and it's actually a decent story under all the over-the-top special effects and character relationships telegraphed with a mallet. Like, it's for kids so you don't get so much subtlety, but there's a lot of depth to it, you know?" She was starting to sound defensive, so I reassured her that I wasn't going to judge, and she pressed play.

It really was a pretty good show, once I allowed myself to watch it without wondering about who the intended audience was. The main characters seemed to be a couple of girls whose age was never specified, but probably early teens or pre-teens. They had to take time out from school sometimes, because they were also secretly dancers with a hugely successful pop group, Sparkling Thunder Pressure. But it turned out that these guys had music so good, even the spirits of ancient civilisations would get up to dance, so they could lead armies of mummies or barbarians against an alien invasion.

By the end of the first episode, Lynn was starting to get excited, and she might be slipping into a childlike headspace even without my assistance. That had to be a good thing, so I let the next episode start to play without interference.

"I can't believe you're watching with me," she bubbled over, "Clark told me I'm an idiot for watching stuff like this, he says it's so shallow it's worthless, and I can't even talk about it."

"That's not fair," I had to tone down the language in my response quite a bit. I'd never expected Clark to be so dismissive of everything he didn't enjoy, but if Lynn cared about him, I wasn't going to put down any more barriers in front of their happiness. "You know, a lot of shows aimed at kids have a deeper plot that isn't so obvious, so parents who have to watch with their kids don't get bored. Is it like that? Because I think this is shaping up to be more complex than the styling implies."

"That's what I said! I want to see what you think, if it's just because I want to be a kid I'm enjoying it. And thank you so much. It's really hard not talking about the bits you haven't seen yet, but I don't want to spoil it in case the twists are neat enough to surprise a real full-time adult."

I poured myself a glass of wine at some point, and offered Lynn one too. She wasn't particularly childish tonight, so I thought it was only fair to let her choose for herself. After another episode, I let it roll on to a third, and a fourth. They were only twenty minutes each, so it was easy to think there was time for just one more. And she was right, it was possible to get invested in this story without any need to think childishly. I found that the main characters' parents were pretty interesting too. Like there were all these adult problems going on, like racism, infidelity, and workplace nepotism. There were hints there in the dialogue, but presented in such a way that it was never explicitly stated, and you might never even spot the signs if you hadn't spent a lifetime watching the way people behave. Like a whole second show, a lot darker, that you had to put together from the faintest hints. I suspected the managers who'd approved the show didn't see that, and the kids it was aimed at certainly didn't. It could only be something to keep the parent audience hooked, playing out a soap in the background.

Lynn probably didn't see that, and I wasn't going to point it out. But she laughed when the characters referenced TV and movies that had been popular ten or twenty years before, and even more obscure things.

We watched one more episode, and another, and I had to admire how well put together the cliffhangers were. You wanted to see what came next, and didn't realise you were starting to care about Tyler and Jodi almost like they were real people. I still couldn't remember which name belonged to which character for all of them, but I was caught up in their adventures enough that I wanted to watch just another episode before bed.

I only stopped when I realised that Lynn was fast asleep, draped across the arm of the sofa. She looked so peaceful there, sweet and innocent, but she might have a stiff neck in the morning. So I carefully picked her up and carried her to the spare room. Her room as it would be for the next few days.

I tucked her in, and looked back at her sleeping so contently before I closed the door. I could only hope that the rest of the week would go so well.

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Cute story so far, I'm hooked!

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Thanks ๐Ÿ™‚ย Always glad to see someone likes my work!

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Aย Little Break - Day 2 / Chapter 7: Morning

I woke up gradually, lying back and waiting for the pattern on the ceiling to come into focus. I knew there was something different about this morning, quite apart from the sunlight streaming in through the curtains to let me know how long I'd slept. It took a few minutes for me to remember the night before, a situation which I could probably blame on the wine.

When I remembered that Lynn was in the spare room, I leapt up from my bed and hurried to get dressed. I wasn't sure if she'd be awake yet, but I wanted to be up and make sure the kitchen was clear enough to make breakfast before she saw me. Bacon and french toast would probably be the perfect thing to jolt my brain back into gear, too, so I hurried to get the house tidy and breakfast cooking.

As it turned out, my timing was perfect. Lynn came downstairs about ten minutes after me, probably woken up by the smell of bacon. She was wearing scruffy jeans and a T-shirt, and rubbing her eyes as if that would help her to wake up.

"Coffee?" I proposed, "Orange juice, bacon, whatever? Don't think I asked what's your breakfast style."

"I was going to ask if I could have brightly-coloured unhealthy cereal and be a hyperactive toddler all day," she paused as soon as she'd said it, but she could see pretty quickly that I wasn't going to be upset. "I guess that would be overdoing it a little. I was so nervous even suggesting something like that, I've been lying in bed half an hour wondering if I dare to ask. But you don't mind my childish side, so I was thinking maybe... Then I smelled bacon cooking, and I decided there's times it's better to be a grownup. Probably healthier too."

"Perfect way to head off a hangover," I agreed, "Did you have much wine? I wasn't paying that much attention." I also made a mental note to pick up some kid-friendly cereals the next time I was in the supermarket, so she wouldn't need to ask again. That was really something I should have thought to get before she arrived.

"A bit, not too much. I think. I don't remember that much, but I was pretty tired after the journey down here, and a shopping trip, and I can't thank you enough for all the stuff yesterday. I mean, just accepting that I want to be little is hard to believe. But helping me so much, playing along at the shops, and making it feel so real. You've done everything I could possibly hope for, and you haven't asked for anything in return."

"That's what friends do. So, one fried breakfast, and staying in adult mode for a while. It's saying something about the state of kids' cereals that something like this could ever be considered the healthy option. Oh, I could put some mushrooms or onions on if you want, perfect topping for bacon and a fried slice."

"I don't know how healthy they are now, I bet they're adding vitamins to their sugar so they can claim it's good for your little ones. Mushrooms sound great. But I need to use the bathroom first."

"You don't need to ask," I answered with a grin. "All grown up today." Lynn blushed, and said something that I didn't quite catch as she hurried out of the room. For much of the day before, she'd not been able to go without my permission. This morning, I wasn't quite sure if that had become enough of a habit to make her feel like she should ask even when she wasn't in her little space. Or maybe those last few words were a hint that her kinky, submissive side wanted to ask permission even when adult; or a request to be little that she wasn't sure she wanted me to hear.

Iย sliced a cup of button mushrooms into a smaller pan with a knob of butter while I waited for her to return, and decided that if she repeated whatever she'd said in five minutes then I'd happily do something to make the morning more fun.

* * *

"I didn't know you were such a chef," Lynn added as she took a seat. There was no sign of the earlier, brief moment of embarrassment.

"I have hidden depths. Well, one hidden depth in any case. Have you sorted out your work yet? I could probably think of some activities to keep you from going out of your mind with boredom, but if you have other things to do I can be catching up on my paperwork."

"Would these ideas involve me being a whole variety of different ages through the day?"

"Maybe a little, but not all day. I don't want to overwhelm you with something that's so emotionally intense."

"I can see that. Well, I've got a couple of articles I need to write anyway. Doesn't matter what time as long as I can plant myself in front of my laptop for a couple of hours at some point. When's best for you?"

"Pretty much the same, I only need to talk to real clients for the big jobs. I bet half the people I work for don't even know what time zone I'm in, so they've got no problem with me replying half a day later. How about we set aside some time late afternoon to let the little girl out, so you can relax after you've done your work? I'll head into town this morning, there's some things I need to do. Anything you want me to pick up from the shops? Not sure if I forgot anything yesterday."

"I could probably do with some pyjamas," she shrugged, "For the days when I've not passed out from drink or exhaustion. I don't even remember going to bed last night."

"You fell asleep on the couch," I felt like I had to tell her the truth in this case. "I carried you up to bed, but that's all. Hope you were comfortable enough."

"Yeah, thanks. You could have done anything while I was asleep, but you're always the gentleman."

"You're not worried about what I could have done?"

"A little disappointed," she smirked, and then her face darkened just a little as she thought about it more seriously. "But I'm glad there's someone I can trust even after most of my friends ditched me."

Then I focused on my sandwich, because I didn't really know what to say to that. I wanted to reassure her, to say that real friends wouldn't let a single moment of weirdness turn them against her. But from what I'd seen online over the last few days, there didn't seem to be that many people supporting her.

"And I'm amazed by your cooking skills. If you can make toast taste so good, I can't wait to see what you'd do with a stroganoff or something."

"Did I never cook for you in college?" I asked, "I know you came round a few times. Mind you, that was before I properly got the hang of a skillet. It took a lot of trial and error, mostly error, to get to a point where my own creations weren't just a last resort for the days I couldn't afford takeout."

"It was worth us meeting again then. For more than one reason. Forย allย the reasons." After saying that, any further conversation was interrupted by both of us concentrating all our attention on the bread and pork products in front of us, which turned out to be just as divine as Lynn seemed to think. I hoped I would continue to be so lucky, and get it just right every morning.

* * *

When I returned from town, and filed some necessary paperwork for the calculation of my taxes at the end of the year, and dealt with all the client communication that couldn't wait, I turned my mind back to the little girl in my care. It didn't really matter to me that she wasn't physically as young as she acted. She felt like a child, and she did childish things, so every instinct in my body wanted to protect her just like I might do with an actual child. I thought about what we could do together in the afternoon. I was sure she'd appreciate the slight humiliation of a brightly-coloured plastic fork for dinner, and a knife incapable of cutting anything. I was grateful she'd mentioned a stroganoff, because I was pretty sure I could prepare something meeting the description with little real effort, which meant I would be free for babysitting duties while the pots simmered on the stove. I wondered what we could do with that time, and a couple of ideas filtered out of my subconscious. I was sure at least one of those thoughts would be viable, and didn't require any advance preparation.

I would have gone to finish setting up the spare room for a child, but I figured if she was home Lynn wouldn't want me walking in on her at times we'd agreed she would be working. So instead, I turned my attention to the items I'd bought her. A tiny plastic dish, knife, and fork of course said that they should be washed before use. I did that easily enough, and then went through the rest of the cups, bottles, and anything that looked like a child might put it in her mouth.

Would Lynn start absent-mindedly chewing on anything in reach if she was feeling young enough? I didn't know, but if she didn't do it herself, it might be amusing to suggest it to her. I added that to the growing mental list of things we could do, and then turned my attention to her new pacifiers. These would be a bigger challenge, because they could be uncomfortable or even harmful if used by adults. I didn't remember all the details, but there was something about the shape encouraging you to overuse some muscles and neglect others if they weren't the right size. Fortunately, companies who realised this had made adult size pacifiers designed for people with various developmental disorders. If you knew what you were doing it should be simple enough to remove the teat from one of those adult-size pacifiers and switch it with one of the cute patterned ones she'd selected the day before.

Lynn might not even notice that the pacifier had grown since she chose it. If getting littler made the world seem big around her, then the relative sizes of other things might be harder to recognise. But I knew this was the right thing to do, because it would be good for her mouth and be comfortable while allowing her to make her own choices of pacifier. That was one reason I hadn't chosen by size when looking at the designs yesterday, but had picked out the ones I thought might be cutest, with widely varying designs so I could find which she actually liked best.

The next task was heading up into the attic, and hoping that some things were still there. Bought when I was young and dumb, and prized novelty value over actually having space to walk around easily. There were two large bean bags that had once been part of the lounge furniture, until one of my post-college housemates tripped over them one time too many. I'd kept them anyway, and occasionally brought them down when I was expecting more guests than I could comfortably accommodate to watch the sportsball or similar events.

Bringing a bean bag chair down from the attic wouldn't be that hard. Unless, of course, it needed pushing from three directions at once to get it through the hatch, and then snagged on the loft ladder half way down to remain hanging just where I couldn't reach around to release it. And once it was down, the covers were quite thickly coated with dust, so they had to go in the washing machine, and it seemed wasteful to put it on without collecting and sorting at least half a load of laundry from the hamper on the landing. Most of my clothes, I knew what was likely to run in the wash, so I didn't bother too much about reading the care labels on new clothes. But there was one outfit of Lynn's in the bag too, and I wanted to be absolutely certain I wasn't going to get anything wrong.

And then, finally, I could do the shopping and then get back to work while the machine spun and tumbled. I had one of the most convenient jobs in the world. I did a lot of different things, and most of them I could manage whenever I felt like it, as long as I didn't keep people waiting too long, so I'd somehow managed to get a reputation for efficiency and reliability simply by not having any official office hours to stick to.

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On 9/13/2022 at 12:00 AM, zackh8 said:

Ah that's why my messages come in at weird times because I only made this account recently. Makes sense, anyway this story is going great so far!

I'm sure it'll start behaving sensibly after a while. And thanks for all the compliments ๐Ÿ™‚

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Aย Little Break - Day 2 / Chapter 8: Playtime

When I looked up after a few minutes slaving in front of the computer and heard that the washing machine had stopped, I assumed that meant I'd also done a decent number of half-hours on my various projects. I went to the bottom of the stairs and contemplated calling Lynn down. But then I didn't know what kind of time management system she used. If she was doing pomodoro sessions or something similar, she might find a distraction outside of her specified break times to be irritating. So I settled for printing out a little three-fold card that I could stand somewhere prominent in the hallway. If she came out of her room to use the bathroom, or came down to get coffee, she would be sure to see a little triangle of colour telling her that I was ready whenever she was.

Ten minutes later, there was a nervous tap on the lounge door. I'd told her to treat the house as her own, but I could understand she'd still be a little cautious if she'd previously noticed me sitting down there with a laptop doing what could only be business activities.

"Come in you're welcome," I called, and waited a second. I expected to hear movement, or the door swinging open, but there was only silence.

"Lynn?" I answered again. "You there?"

The only answer was rustling of fabric, like someone pacing, or hopping from one foot to the other too nervous to move. I could easily imagine she was getting embarrassed, after all the things we might be going to do today. Had her nervousness come back, now she'd had time to think about the enormity of it all?

I walked over to the door and opened it. I was extra careful to open it slowly, in case she was leaning on the handle or something. I wouldn't normally have needed to take such care, but I found that a part of me was still thinking of her as a child after yesterday.

Lynn was just outside the door, looking nervously down at her feet, and with her hands crossed together behind her back. She'd changed her clothes since this morning, and now had a light pleated shirt and leggings, as well as a matching top. The slogan across her chest said 'Daddys Princess'. Her new little girl clothes; I could guess that she'd gotten changed in the hope of getting into character a little more easily. That made a lot of sense; clothing could be a great way of finding the 'little space' or 'headspace' that most littles seemed to crave, in the same way that the right outfit would help practitioners of more sexual kinks find a certain side of their personalities.

"You got changed ready for some fun?" I asked her. She smiled and nodded, though I wouldn't have heard a whispered "yes" if I hadn't seen her lips move.

"Are you already feeling little?" I asked. She hesitated before giving an answer, but I could imagine I'd hit the nail on the head. That would explain the embarrassment. I might not have given her any hypnotic triggers today, but the human brain is a wonderful thing for building connections. If she had specific clothes for being a little girl, then any suggestions I'd given her could easily become associated with the clothes. I wouldn't have expected it to happen so quickly, but then I already knew that Lynn was an exceptional hypnotic subject. She was nodding again.

I hazarded another guess: "And you're embarrassed because you're not sure if you should have asked first? You're maybe wondering if we should have had some grown-up chat before whatever I was planning?" Another nervous pause, and then an increasingly certain pattern of nodding. She shifted from one foot to the other, and I wondered if some of the embarrassment was because she hadn't used the bathroom before getting changed. I could imagine it might be hard for her to talk to me if she'd put the clothes on expecting a little solo relaxation before she came down to play, only to find that she needed to ask me something that was already somewhat embarrassing. I decided that I'd give her a while to speak her mind before I prompted her, as I could imagine she was enjoying the unfamiliar feelings even as she got used to them.

"Did I do good, Daddy?" she mumbled so quietly that I could barely hear.

"Of course you did. You're a wonderful little girl, and you can be little whenever you want. But next time can you let me know? I don't want anything bad to happen to you without an adult watching over you."

"Yes, Daddy," she nodded, still not raising her gaze from the floor.

"Come on, let's watch a little television while you get comfortable. You don't need any worries in your sweet little head now, so we're just going to watch something fun, and the more you get into it, the more your worries about doing the right thing will fade away. As long as you're safe, no worries. Understand?"

This time she just nodded, and didn't say a word. Her face was still a little pink, and I wondered if her blushes were being enhanced by finding herself regressed a little earlier than she'd expected. For a moment I wondered if she'd actually finished her work, or if she'd decided to get dressed up in advance of our playtime and then found her inner child waking up faster than she planned. It was entirely possible, but I didn't want to bring that up now. If she wasn't worrying about it, then she could always catch up on her work later if necessary. Right now, I just wanted her to feel calm and safe.

I picked up the TV remote and started cycling through the child-safe channels while she sat down beside me and snuggled up against my other arm. She was so adorable, I couldn't imagine how anyone could not want this simple pleasure in their lives. I found an episode of STP, Lynn's favourite show when she was little, and decided that would be good for helping her to feel littler.

"Have you seen this one?" I asked, watching the band on screen go straight into a song I hadn't heard yet.

Another nod; she seemed to not have many words in her today, but that wasn't a problem. Yesterday had shown me that she was happy to be non-vocal as a child, until something excited her enough to bring the words spilling out in a torrent. As they did now.

"I've seenย allย of them!" she declared proudly, drawing out the word 'all' for several seconds to emphasise just how large that number was. "You haven't, though. But it's one of the Hawaiian Tour arc, I don't think there's going to be spoilers. And they teach you the dances for the songs from the summer album."

"You're such a smart little girl," I ruffled her hair. She leaned closer, and we started to watch. Any tension in the air had already dissolved. As the opening credits played, Lynn started to whisper to me little details that might help me to understand the episode properly. After a couple of interjections, she climbed up onto my lap and put her arms around me. From any other woman, resting her head so close against my chest would have had completely different connotations, but I guessed that toddler Lynn was too innocent even to think of such things.

A few minutes later, I thought I might have to reconsider my first assessment. My little girl was just as affectionate as the day before, but once I'd stopped worrying about her I quickly started to realise that she wasn't acting quite so innocent. As she nuzzled against me, her hands were lingering just a little too long, following the shape of my muscles rather than clumsily hugging; and she was using childish words, but she seemed perfectly able to remember longer words when they were needed for what she wanted to say.

I wasn't quite sure what I should say at that point. She'd spent months playing as a little girl whenever she got the chance, and without the benefits of post-hypnotic suggestions I would expect it to be a little harder for her to completely dismiss the adult thoughts. Maybe she was in her little space, just not as deeply as before. I decided that when there was a break in the onscreen action, I'd say a few words to make the experience more real for her.

At the same time, she was holding me as close as she could. It wasn't obvious if she was deliberately trying to arouse me, or had slipped into a mindset innocent enough to wriggle against me without realising. But when it came to holding my hand against her breasts, or shifting position in my lap, it was getting increasingly hard to ignore how close I was to this attractive young woman.

"What's this, Daddy?" She turned to look up at me with a wicked grin as the TV started showing advertisements for the latest toy line. She had shifted her weight to her knees, and one hand snaked down between us to clumsily stroke me through my clothes. The innocent girl willing to be corrupted. I was sure it was a role she'd played many times with her husband, and she was good at making innocent eyes despite what her hands were doing. If you had a good imagination, it might almost be possible to believe that she was a child in her mind, not knowing what she was doing.

But not quite.

"No," I said firmly, and shook my head. "I like my little girl to be sweet and innocent. Maybe you'd like some help toโ€“"

Her giggles weren't so childish either. The pout and "But Daddy..." pleading didn't suit her at all.

"Lynn, you said this wasn't what you wanted. Didn't you?"

"I know, but... I didn't mean to. I was just getting dressed ready, and then I was nervous, I wasn't sure if I was supposed to. And when you thought I might be little already I thought it might be fun to see how long it takes you to notice, or maybe I can get into it by playing along. And then you're so close, and so... you. I want you, Daddy."

I didn't know how I should respond. I couldn't say I wasn't interested, but it still felt wrong to be so close to her. Like I was coming between my friend and her husband; or like I was abusing her trust when she was vulnerable and desperate for someone who would acknowledge her. She was good with her hands, but I was just thinking about how happy she'd been when she announced her upcoming marriage. I'm pretty open-minded, there's a lot of things I'd like to try, but infidelity was never one of them.

"I know you do. But that's not something a little girl should be thinking. So, I think it would be a good idea if you stop touching me like that, and try to clear your mind of salacious thoughts. Then we can sit calmly and watch television together, but without a naughty girl in my lap. Or I could pick something from the things we talked about yesterday, and give you a little surprise. But I'm not sure if it's appropriate to give you a treat when you've been pushing your limits like that."

I took a deep breath, and tried to rein in my own urges. It was hard, but I knew I had to be strict here. I was trying to give my friend a safe space, not to drive another wedge between her and her husband. After a little reminder, she might be happy to go back to innocent pursuits, but my memories from days when we were both single suggested it was unlikely. I could only hope she didn't push this any further.

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Hope this part isn't too extreme for anyone. It was incorporated because it's a scene a lot of people seem to ask for, even though it's not something I'm personally into.

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Aย Little Break - Day 2 / Chapter 9: Punishment

"You could give me a spanking," she grinned and poked her tongue out at me. "That's what you do with bad girls, right?"

I took a slow breath in, trying to stop myself getting any more excited. I didn't want to show Lynn how much she was turning me on now, even if she already had a pretty good idea. She turned and bent over, lifting up the over-lacy hem of her dress to show me strawberry-print panties with a visible damp patch. She stretched across my knees without any prompting, something I was sure had been done by no disobedient child ever in the history of the human race.

"Is that really what you want?" I asked, maybe allowing a smile to creep onto my face again as I considered the possibilities. I took the back of her panties between two fingers, and quickly pulled them down to her knees.

"Yes, Daddy," Lynn answered in a tone that was in no way innocent, a manufactured half-lisp the only sign of childishness.

"I think some big girls enjoy a spanking a lot more than a little kid can," I cautioned, and punctuated it with a firm handprint on her bare ass. "Are you sure?"

"Yes, Daddy," and a little breathless gasp. "Spank me until my ass is bright red, and then pound me like aโ€“"

"Would you like to be littler?" I asked firmly, cutting off the invitation before I could lose my nerve.

"Yes, Daddy!" she answered without thinking, repeating the last thing she'd said almost by reflex. It was only a moment later she seemed to realise what I'd asked. The tension in her muscles changed completely, and I had to grab her wrist to keep her from standing up again. She was little now, the masochistic excitement completely gone from her mind and probably with no idea why she might have expected to enjoy her punishment.

"Daddy?" she seemed surprised now. Confused, and nervous. And just a little afraid, as if she really expected my hand to hurt her.

"Calm down, Princess," I stroked her hair as gently as I could, but kept my other hand tight around her arm. Firm but fair, as well as I could play the role. "Do you know why you're getting this?"

"I..." she stammered, and it was a real effort of will not to let her off the hook right away. "I said lots of naughty words. And I tried doing naughty things that I can't remember now but I know it's bad. And I dared you to spank me."

"That's right," I stroked her hair again, ignoring the bare bottom by my right hand. "Can you promise you won't do that again? Or do you need punishing properly?"

She didn't speak. She didn't move. I guess she didn't know how to react. But all the books on childcare I'd read said that hollow threats would only lead to confusion. Don't be too harsh, don't be angry, but ensure that unacceptable behaviour is always met with punishment. And if you say the child has earned a spanking, you have to follow through. That's how they start to learn.

I don't know how much of that is out-of-date by modern thinking, or how much of it would even apply to a regressed girl. But I did know what Lynn had told me. I knew that if I turned her backside bright red now, she wouldn't be aroused. She was too young to even have those thoughts. But at the same time, I didn't know if she would enjoy it. I didn't know if it would feel fair, when she couldn't really remember what she'd done wrong. But she'd been able to explain about as well as a child could be expected to. I made my decision.

Lynn yelped and shrieked as my hand came down the first time. This wasn't a playful swat, but a slap designed to cause pain. I waited a few seconds for her to calm down, and then brought back my hand to strike again. This time she let out a longer scream, and I wondered if the neighbours might hear. Even with two foam-insulated walls and a few feet of air between houses, a sound like that could carry. Still, unless it went on for hours the worst I'd face would be some amused glances and sarcastic comments about my bedroom antics at the next neighbourhood cookout. From outside, I was sure, the distinction between punishment and excitement couldn't be so clear.

"You don't try to trick me." I said it firmly, and waited. Lynn moved a little, and I guess that could have been a nod. She didn't say anything now, so I could only hope I was doing the right thing. I brought my hand down again, and held her in place as she yelped.

"And we agreed on the rules when you came here. Remember?" Another slap, and another yelp. This time I was sure she was nodding.

"Then you need to follow the rules. I don't want to hurt you. But you need to be a good girl." Three more slaps to punctuate the sentences, and Lynn was starting to sob. I could have pushed her further; that would have been a very short spanking for many of our masochistic friends. But it was still an intense experience for a little girl, and I didn't know how she might feel about it afterwards.

"Are you going to be a good girl now?" I asked. Lynn's head bobbed as I released her arm. I gave her a gentle pat on the head, and she sat up slowly. There were tears in her eyes, but she didn't look too distraught.

She sat gingerly in my lap, wincing a little, and put her arms around me. I held her gently, and she pressed her face into my shoulder.

She was still holding herself against me, but now the movements felt completely innocent. She was a child, seeking closeness and comfort. There was nothing there that could threaten her relationship with her husband, or break the rules we'd agreed on when she arrived.

"Can I be a good girl now?" Lynn whispered, a few minutes later. She'd stopped sobbing, but I still held her close as I thought how best to respond.

"Of course. You are a good girl, you always are. If you don't do any naughty things, then I won't have to spank you again. Is that fair?"

"Thank you, Daddy."

I stroked her hair gently, and lifted her from my knee down to the ground. Her panties were still around her ankles, so I pulled them up gently and without comment. She giggled a little at the feeling of me dressing her, even in the circumstances.

"Now, I had a special treat planned for this evening. I was going to make you some special smiley cookies. Would you like that?" The nodding was a lot more vigorous this time.

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6 hours ago, zackh8 said:

Fantastic chapter!

Thanks ๐Ÿ™‚

I'm still not sure about the punishment thing; but I think it works here.

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Aย Little Break - Day 2 / Chapter 10: Baking

"Would you like to help meย makeย some cookies?" I asked, while her head was still bouncing up and down just from the prospect of getting homemade cookies. This time, the nodding was so energetic that it seemed her head might fall off. I picked her up and spun around, prompting a fit of giggles. It was harder than usual, given that I had to avoid touching the part of her bottom that might still be tender from the spanking. But she probably didn't notice, any more than she noticed how much effort it really took me to lift her.

I had everything ready in the kitchen, and I glanced at the clock as we walked in, trying to work out if we still had time to do everything I'd planned. I thought it would probably work.

I'd considered making cookies from scratch, and looked through a couple of my recipe books trying to pick the perfect variety. But in the end, with a little girl on the baking team, I felt it was probably better to pick something I was sure she'd be able to do. So I'd got a packet of cookie mix, which had most of the challenging steps already done. It came with carefully measured sachets of flour, sugar, baking powder, and something that was marked as 'magic cookie paste'. Everything measured out in advance, so I assumed it would be easier to put together. There were also a couple of cookie cutters in various simple shapes: a heart, a star, and a flower. And a tiny plastic rolling pin, which I quickly decided was too light to be any use at all.

Lynn's eyes lit up when she saw all the ingredients lined up on the kitchen counter. The sachets were printed to look like regular flour and sugar bags in miniature, and the 'magic paste' was a reasonable approximation of a milk bottle, so she could feel like she was really baking.

I quickly told her that I'd got enough things for two sets of cookies, and asked if she wanted to mix them together to make a big set, or just do one. She said, as I'd expected, that more cookies are better. So then I asked if she wanted to watch me, or help me, or if she was big enough to be in charge. Through all the excited giggles, I could just about make out a proud declaration that she could cook.

The recipe book was great, and I made a mental note to search for this brand again if I had cause to entertain a child in the kitchen. It was like a comic book, showing a little girl in what looked like a miniature wedding dress opening packets of flour and sugar, stirring them up in a mixing bowl, and adding all the different colours, fruit pieces, and sprinkles that were provided as optional extras.

It seemed that each pack of magic cookie ingredients only included two of the optional extras, but I knew that Lynn would like to have a choice, so I'd made sure to set out all the different flavourings, food colours, and sweet toppings that I could think of. Lynn either didn't notice or didn't care that they weren't all in the same packages that her comic showed.

She read the words on the page carefully, sounding out each letter, before she started to mix. She didn't really need to, because each instruction was only one or two sentences, and what she was supposed to do was pretty obvious from the pictures. But she was finding that she could be proud of her ability to read, just as much as her cooking skill. I wasn't sure how much of that was her playing the role, and how much might be a leftover consequence of the suggestion to stop her reading the boxes I was buying at the Mercer Centre the day before. Either way, it seemed to leave her feeling little, giggly and excited, so it had to be a good thing.

I offered to help, but Lynn just shook her head and insisted that she was going to be a proper cook, and do everything herself. She struggled for a minute with opening the top of the flour sachet, and I stepped closer in case she needed help.

"I can do it," she said, though I could tell she was having trouble. "Have we got a..." and then she squinted at the page again, not sure how to pronounce the diphthong. "A seever?"

"A sieve?" I asked, "Yeah, we have. I can get it if you want." The instructions mentioned that the sieve was optional, and I'd missed lifting it out because I only looked at the list of what I might need on the back of the box. Still, it brought an idea to my mind.

"I can get it!" Lynn planted her hands on her hips, looking adorable. "I'm the cook! Where is it?"

"In the cupboard up there," I pointed, "inside the blue mixing bowls." She turned and looked, and seemed just a little uncertain. I took that as my cue to give her another gentle tap on the nose and continue: "But I'm not sure you're big enough to get everything by yourself. Obey. You can reach up to that cupboard, but every time you stretch for something that high, you'll find that it gets a little harder to reach. So the second time you reach towards that cupboard, your arms won't be long enough, and every time you'll be able to reach a little less. Okay?"

She nodded automatically, and giggled. "That's mean!" she said, but her tone told me that she was thinking of it more as a challenge to overcome than any kind of serious torment. She walked over to the cupboard I'd indicated, which she would probably have needed to stretch for even as an adult. She raised her arm and pulled the door open, and then hooked her fingers over the bottom of the shelf. I hadn't quite expected that, but I didn't want my surprise to be too obvious. I'd thought that she would be able to lift the bowls and the sieve down, and then find that she couldn't put the bowls back, so she'd have to ask me for help. And maybe have similar troubles each time she wanted something that wasn't already out on the counter. But it seemed like her mind had counted opening the door as the first time. Now she just about had her fingertips on the shelf in front of the bowls, but seemed unable to reach beyond that. Her arms were slightly bent, but she didn't realise at all.

"Daddy?" she moaned softly, "Can you get it for me?"

"Of course," I reached over her head to take out a nested set of bowls, and held them out so that she could take the utensil she wanted from inside the smallest. She didn't say anything else, but set the sieve on top of the mixing bowl I'd given her, and then returned to trying to open the troublesome flour sachet. This time she managed to tear off a strip, and only a small amount of white powder dusted her hands. She tipped the rest into the sieve, and then started to shake it vigorously from side to side.

I watched carefully now. I could see that she was getting quite caught up in the childish play, emulating the uncoordinated movements of a little kid. And she was making a little mess with the baking ingredients, which I'd kind of expected, but she seemed to be in control enough to keep the majority of the flour in the bowl. While she was working on that, I carefully took the second sachet and tugged at the tear-off strip along the top. It really was firmly stuck, but with a little effort I separated the first millimetre or two. Once the seal was broken, I reasoned, even a little girl would have no trouble opening it, and because she was otherwise engaged, she wasn't going to be upset that I'd helped her.

"It won't go through!" she pouted, pointing at the last heap of flour in the middle of the sieve.

"Would you like a little help, Princess? Someone bigger and stronger to make the flour behave?"

"Okay," she nodded. "I'm still the cook, you're just bigger."

"Of course you are." I patted her gently on the head, which always seemed to bring a smile to her face, and then gently took the handle from her. I wasn't that good at baking myself, but I was pretty sure that the idea of sieving the flour was to allow some air into the mixture, so it might not matter too much if there were a few pieces that hadn't been done properly. I gave the bottom of the sieve a little tap, thinking that might free any bits stuck in the holes, and it must have helped because the flour started coming through again. I also shook the bowl from side to side a little, so the mound of flour in the middle wasn't touching the bottom of the sieve. I wasn't too experienced at this, as I'd always been more interested in cooking than baking, but it wasn't too much of a challenge. And by the time I'd finished, Lynn was holding up the second packet of flour in both hands. She'd managed to tear open the top, and then seen that she couldn't put it down without spilling it.

I held the bowl in front of her, and she happily dumped the whole sachet in the sieve. She didn't seem inclined to take it back from me, so I held the sieve handle in one hand and the bowl in the other, gently jiggling them in opposite directions. It worked as well as I could have hoped, and then we were ready to start adding the other ingredients.

Lynn followed the recipe as closely as she could, like any deviation would mean disaster. I was sure the cookies would have come out fine in any case, but it was amazing to see her so focused on a task, and so proud of the smallest things.

The magic ingredient turned out to be a paste with the consistency of thick soup. From the label on the box, I guessed that it contained the egg, butter, salt, and any other liquid ingredients that this recipe called for. Or more likely, whatever synthetic ingredients the designers thought would do the duty of protein and fat while having a shelf life measured in months. When I'd baked cakes or biscuits with my parents the recipe had never called for modified vegetable shortening, triglycerides, whey protein, buffering agents, or inert bulking; but I guess things were very different for modern kids.

The stuff came in a little sachet that looked like a milk carton, but with a strip to tear off at the top like the flour bags. Inside it seemed to be foil-lined paper, containing the white soupy stuff. Lynn seemed a little discouraged by how much was clinging to the inside of the packet after we tipped it into the bowl, so I started to roll the sachet up tightly, squeezing out the last drops and I pressed it as hard as I could. She did the same with the other one, and somehow it became a little competition in how hard we could squeeze the paper, or who could make the smallest little roll of paper at the end. I proclaimed that we were both the winner, and the stuff in the bowl was probably ready for mixing.

The book had three pictures showing how to mix a bowl of ingredients. The little kids in the picture could rub everything together with their hands, or use a spoon, or a balloon whisk. I thought that was a pretty good idea, because it meant children could make their own cookies whether or not their kitchens had a full set of utensils. I'd put a wooden spoon out for stirring, but I didn't say anything to Lynn because I wanted her to make her own choice of which implement to use.

She went straight for mixing with her hands, and I was tempted to reach in and help her. She was proud of doing something herself, though. So I stood back and watched. I gave her a little advice, like rubbing the ingredients together in her fingers instead of just wiggling her hands in the mixture, and I think she listened to what I was saying. I did my best to just give her little tips. I didn't want to be telling her what to do when she was having so much fun.

And just when I thought she was finished, she used the wooden spoon to scrape as much dough as she could off her fingers, and started to stir. I was puzzled for a few seconds, but then realised she had skipped over the little icon intended to indicate 'pick one'. I laughed a little, but not out loud. She was trying hard, and the main thing here would be having fun. I wasn't going to point out her unorthodox method.

I could imagine a child putting all their strength into stirring, and spreading dough all over the work surface. Lynn certainly but a lot of effort into it, but the mixture was already quite thick, and she couldn't move the spoon fast enough to cause any chaos. She seemed to be having a little difficulty, but rather than asking for help she abandoned the spoon after thirty seconds, and went back to looking at the recipe book.

"We got a..." she started, and then realised she didn't know how to pronounce 'whisk' either. Rather than risk embarrassment, she found an alternative way to end the sentence: "One of them?" Her index finger left a little smudge of dough on the book, but I thought I shouldn't mention that. Instead I pointed to an oversized mug standing on the shelf, filled with spatulas, tongs, and miscellaneous kitchen implements. There was a lemon zester, a tiny grater, a melon baller, and a garlic press. All the little things that people had bought me because there seemed to be some consensus that I collected all the kitchen tools that nobody else used; I guess that had started because I spent several months while at university trying to find a decent garlic press, when most of my friends were more inclined to get a tub of puree than actual garlic.

Among the more esoteric tools there were three balloon whisks, as well as a few alternatives. Lynn saw it immediately, and ran over to get it from the shelf. This time, we were both surprised to find that she couldn't reach. She turned her head back to stare up at the high shelf, even though it was mounted somewhere around her eye level. And she stretched her fingers towards the jar, not quite reaching the shelf and apparently not seeing that her arms were stretching outwards rather than upwards.

"Need a hand, Princess?" I offered. She grinned a little bit, and nodded. I took the mug in both hands, and lowered it to somewhere that she could more easily reach. She looked at all the things in it, and then grabbed the middle-sized whisk and gave it a tug. That sent a little cascade of other tools tumbling to the floor, and her hands were immediately over her mouth. She put the whisk down on the side, and bent down to pick up the assorted tools and return them to their mug. I'd already put it back on the shelf. Lynn reached up towards it with both hands full of things, and I carefully took them out of her hands.

"It's okay, sweetie. These things need washing anyway, so I'll load them in the dishwasher. You can make your cookies, okay?" She thought about that for a second, before turning back to her masterpiece.

When she'd finished mixing, I produced a flat knife to scrape the dough off both the spoon and the whisk, and return it to the bowl. The next thing we needed was a cup, she declared, because the recipe said she could add a cup of chocolate chips. The chocolate was right there, but it wasn't in a cup, and she wanted to do everything by the book. She already knew where the cups were, in the cupboard with all of our breakfast bowls, but it seemed that she was having even more trouble reaching up. The cups were in the middle of the tall cupboard, so a little below chest height for Lynn, but she still couldn't reach them. As I passed her one, I could see the blush on her face intensifying as she realised just how small and helpless she was becoming. This was exactly the kind of game she'd wanted to play.

Finally, it was time to roll out the cookies and cut them into interesting shapes. But she found that she couldn't press the rings and stars through the thick dough, and paused to glare at it in frustration. I suggested an alternative method, of putting the cutter onto a baking tray and then pressing a handful of dough down into it. This time the pretty shapes didn't tear when she pulled away the remaining dough, and she pronounced it good. She wanted to put sweets on top of some of the cookies, and sprinkles on others. It took quite a long time before they were all ready to go into the oven, but finally there were only scrapings of the mixture left in the bowl.

As one last addition, Lynn asked me to help roll a ball of as much as we could gather. There wasn't enough to fill a cutter here, but Lynn had something else in mind. A blobby stickman, made out of cookie dough tubes like it was modelling clay, sat on the corner of the tray.

"To watch they don't burn!" Lynn exclaimed, and I couldn't argue with that. All I needed to do then was slide the tray into the oven, and we could wash our hands and go to watch cartoons. Just like the kids in the recipe book, as it turned out.

"Do you need to turn it on?" Lynn pointed at the picture in the book, "It says you gotta ask a grownup to turn it on." She blushed briefly as she said that. She still knew she was really an adult, but her instincts were betraying her, leaving her unable to help acting like an over-excited child. And every time she caught herself using childish words, she was just a little embarrassed, a little excited, and enjoyed the game even more. That was the feeling she loved the most, I was sure.

"Oh, you're right," I treated her to a smile. The oven had been warming up while she was mixing the ingredients, but I saw this was a perfect opportunity to give the girl a little more pride. I reached up to the cooker's controls. I turned the knob a little, and then pressed the buttons on the timer to make it bleep; a reasonable impression of something stylish and high-tech being started up. I wasn't sure how easily she'd accept something like that, but she nodded and smiled. There was pride there, I was sure, and the confidence that she'd been able to remember what I forgot.

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Aย Little Break - Day 2 / Chapter 11: Satisfaction

I had a whole bunch of different cartoons for her to choose from. I didnโ€™t want to start watching something that would catch our attention right now, because I needed to remember to check on the cookies. And as much as the marketing seemed to aim it squarely at children, I knew that STP was engaging enough to have us watching just one more episode until it was evening. Lynn was happy anyway, giggling and squealing as some kind of bright blue rodent was chased by cats, horses, and for some reason a giant, animate anvil. It was mindless entertainment and cartoon slapstick, and after todayโ€™s intense start I thought that was just what we needed.

When the cookies were ready, Lynn came to watch them come out of the oven. I was worried for a moment that she might try to touch the hot baking tray, so I pulled a couple of oven gloves over her hands even though she wasnโ€™t supposed to be touching anything.

โ€œCan I do it?โ€ she asked, staring at the oven door. I wondered for a moment if it was strange that she wanted to do so many things, while sheโ€™d spent a significant portion of the last few years wishing she could feel younger. But then, I reasoned, a lot of submissives loved to disobey orders so that they could be punished, or so they could feel like they were being forced. This was just the little-girl version of the same impulse. Lynn wanted to try to do grown-up things so that she could feel how little she was capable of, or what I would allow her to try. Or maybe she enjoyed the challenge; and I could imagine that a large part of a childโ€™s experience involved trying to do things that they werenโ€™t really ready for.

โ€œOkay,โ€ I nodded, sorting through all the ideas that were forming in my head as she stepped nervously towards the oven. โ€œJust be very, very careful. Okay? Make sure you only touch the tray with those gloves.โ€ I stepped back and held the oven door open for her. I knew that hypnosis would never overrule her instincts for self-preservation, and Iโ€™d included a lot of suggestions to that effect when sheโ€™d be in trance. She shouldnโ€™t allow herself to get hurt through childish behaviour, but I still found myself watching her like a hawk. My instincts didnโ€™t see the adult she really was, just the child inside.

She reached down and pulled out the first tray of cookies. She wobbled a little, and struggled to get a grip through the thick gloves, but she managed to lift it out and put it on the counter. I noticed that while she didnโ€™t seem to be that aware of what she was doing, she still managed to place it on one of the heatproof sections. Whether that was subconscious understanding or just chance, I couldnโ€™t say.

โ€œItโ€™s hard,โ€ she mumbled. โ€œI canโ€™t move my fingers with mitts on.โ€

โ€œThatโ€™s fine,โ€ I said, and ruffled her hair. That simple gesture seemed to take away any worries she was feeling and turn her into a happy, giggly little girl. And that was one trigger I hadnโ€™t programmed into her mind, so I wondered if it would be worth enhancing it the next time she was in trance. It seemed to have strong, positive associations for her already, so Iโ€™d likely leave well enough alone. But now she was calm, I could certainly give her a gentle tap on the nose, to play a little more. There was an idea Iโ€™d been thinking about for some point in the week, but it would be easier to start right now.

โ€œObey,โ€ I said, and watched the sharp intake of breath, the tiny squeak of excited anticipation. โ€œFocus on the feeling of the gloves holding your fingers. How it feels like youโ€™re just a little bit more clumsy when youโ€™re wearing them. And let that feeling continue even after you take them off. Until youโ€™re grown up again, youโ€™ll find yourself just a little clumsier. You wonโ€™t be able to pick things up easily with your fingers, so you might have to grasp with your whole hand. Just like it is when youโ€™re wearing thick mittens. You will be able to do the things you need to do, or things Iโ€™ve told you to do, and you wonโ€™t hurt yourself. But you will find even the simplest tasks just a little harder because you canโ€™t quite control your fingers. Do you understand all that? Good. Then obey, and feel the things Iโ€™ve just described.โ€

Lynn kept on nodding for a few seconds, and then blushed and raised her gloved hands to her mouth.

โ€œI didnโ€™t meanโ€ฆโ€ she muttered, and then stopped. โ€œOh wow. I never thought about that.โ€

โ€œThink youโ€™ll enjoy it?โ€ I asked, and the nodding didnโ€™t stop.

Lynn looked back and forth between me and the second tray in the oven. I gave her a nod and a smile, and returned my gloved hand to the door. She reached down and lifted the cookies out very, very slowly. She was visibly having trouble now, the tray shaking in her grasp, so as soon as she was clear I closed the oven and stepped closer. Not actually grabbing the tray from her, but close enough to catch it if she couldnโ€™t keep her grip. She was staring at it now, tongue protruding from the corner of her mouth as she tried to hold it firmly. And finally, after much effort, she managed to reach up to place it on the counter. On the heatproof section again, so I could be confident she was payingt attention even when she didnโ€™t realise it.

It was only then I realised she was in a half crouch, reaching up to the counter with some effort. Two suggestions making it harder for her at the same time, I realised, might have been a little over the top. But that grin of triumph as she put it down seemed worth any hardship.

She tried to lift cookies onto a plate, still with her gloves on, and found that she couldnโ€™t get a grip. Some skittered around the tray, while others were stuck in place. I wondered if I should offer to help, but she seemed to be enjoying the challenge. I wasnโ€™t sure if sheโ€™d manage it, when she seemed barely tall enough to reach the counter in her mind. So I came close behind her and wrapped my hands around her waist.

โ€œNeed a lift up so you can reach?โ€ I asked. Her head bobbed agreement, and she reached out to grab a spatula from the side. I wasnโ€™t sure if I was actually strong enough to lift her more than a few inches for any length of time, not in that position. But it seemed I didnโ€™t need to, because she could reach now. Just holding her and mentioning picking her up was perhaps enough to let her think I was carrying her.

The spatula waved around erratically, but she managed to lift one cookie off the tray, and then another. I slid a Tupperware box into reach, and she dropped them inside. More than once she dropped a cookie to bounce back onto the tray, or one slipped off the spatula and bounced against the edge of the box. But she would just try again, and I noticed that none of them went on the floor, or anywhere they couldnโ€™t be retrieved. Lynnโ€™s subconscious mind, it seemed, was very good at moderating her coordination without making a mess, which made me a little more confident about trying similar suggestions in future.

It took quite a while, but Lynn didnโ€™t seem to be getting bored and her enthusiasm was kind of infectious. Eventually all the cookies were rescued. Unfortunately, cookie man had turned almost black. I guessed that must be the same effect that caused smaller pieces of meat to cook in half the time, and hoped Lynn wouldnโ€™t be too upset. She tried to pick him up with the spatula anyway, but only succeeded in sending him bouncing across the tray a few times.

โ€œCan you help, Daddy?โ€

โ€œOf course.โ€ I reached out and tested the temperature of the tray with a finger. โ€œOr you can take the gloves off now and use your hands if thatโ€™s easier.โ€

She giggled, and then realised sheโ€™d need my help to pull the gloves off. With that done, she grasped at the little burned man and managed to hold him in her fist on the third attempt. He went into the box as well, riding the edge of one of the cookies now. With that job done Lynn scampered back into the lounge, while I extracted a couple of small plates from the cupboard.

I gave Lynn the cutest plate, bearing a picture of a dinosaur dancing, and offered the box to her. โ€œTake one or two.โ€

She looked at the container almost filled to the brim with cookies, and then up at me, and then down again. I could practically see the train of thought being coupled together behind her eyes, wanting to ask why she couldnโ€™t have them all after sheโ€™d done so good baking the cookies.

โ€œYou want to save some for tomorrow, donโ€™t you?โ€ I offered her an answer, before she felt the need to ask the question. โ€œThereโ€™s enough to have two every day this week. But if you eat them all today, weโ€™ll only have cookies once.โ€

Lynn gnawed gently on her bottom lip as she turned this thought over in her mind. She couldnโ€™t see anything wrong with it, and she knew that she wanted to eat cookies more than once this week, so eventually she nodded her agreement. She took two cookies, and then hesitated.

โ€œCan I have Mr Burned too?โ€ she asked in a tiny voice.

โ€œOf course,โ€ I ruffled her hair. โ€œHe might not taste good, though.โ€

โ€œI just wanna try,โ€ she was nodding again, as I gently put the dark-brown cookie dough man on the edge of her plate. โ€œYou can have one too, if you want.โ€

โ€œThank you,โ€ I took a small cookie from the pile, set it on a little plate of my own, and then followed Lynn back into the lounge.

The cookies were really good, Some of the toppings worked better than others, and some of the cookies were a little over-crispy, but they were all sweet, warm, and ever so slightly soft in the middle. Lynn had done a really good job, and I wasnโ€™t shy in telling her that.ย 

While Lynn ate hers, I went back to the kitchen to sort out dinner. I realised I didnโ€™t have all the ingredients for the stroganoff Lynn had requested, having been distracted on my brief visit to the shops. So I put that off until tomorrow, and for today I chopped up some pork loin steaks, potatoes, bell peppers, carrots and onion, and set it all in the slow cooker. It would take a couple of hours, but I didnโ€™t think we were in any rush to eat now.

I came back to find Lynn was just about managing to get cookies into her mouth, and her grin was wide enough to tell me that she didnโ€™t mind at all. I picked up the largest of the crumbs, and came to sit beside her. I put the little pieces in her mouth one by one, and after the first she was sucking greedily at my fingers, trying not to waste any of her precious, crumbly cookie. They really were quite good, and I could see she was enjoying them, but seemed to be following less of the cartoons while she opened her mouth wide and waited eagerly for the next piece.

โ€œYouโ€™re really enjoying this, arenโ€™t you?โ€

She answered with a vigorous nod, and rubbing her tummy. The afternoon had been a big success.

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26 minutes ago, zackh8 said:

This is great I can't wait to get to the diaper content! lol

That might take a while. A good part of this book is trying to make wholesome regression understandable to people who don't get it (I've actually given my parents a copy of the paperback version), so it takes quite a while for her to build up the courage to mention that.

(Out of curiosity, how obvious is it that Mick has done ABDL stuff before?)

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Aย Little Break - Day 2 / Chapter 12: Adult-ish

When it came to time for food, I wasnโ€™t quite sure what I should do. Lynnโ€™s awkwardness with her hands was quite adorable, but I wasnโ€™t sure how easily sheโ€™d be able to eat. I also noticed that when she found herself unable to reach the lounge cupboards with DVDs in, sheโ€™d started getting more frustrated than excited. Iโ€™d helped her, and she was all sunshine again in an instant, but I thought that this experiment was starting to become a little less fun for her.

After checking the slow cooker one last time, and determining that our food was perfectly done, I came around to stand in front of Lynn. The cartoon had just finished, so it was a perfect time to get her full attention.

โ€œHave you enjoyed yourself this afternoon?โ€ I asked, and Lynn nodded. I didnโ€™t need to ask really, because her expression told me more than words ever could. โ€œDid you like making cookies?โ€ Another nod. โ€œAnd would you like to be a big girl now so you can eat your dinner?โ€

This time she nodded a little, but hesitantly. I could see that she wanted to carry on being a little girl, and I felt guilty for asking her to grow up. ย But at the same time, I didnโ€™t want her to get too cranky over the difficulty of holding things, and I was still a little worried about the earlier punishment. As much as I wanted to carry on, I wanted to be sure that she was okay with all that happened before we got carried away.

โ€œWe can play again later, or you can introduce me to STP properly,โ€ I took a little more care to to pronounce the name correctly this time. โ€œBut I think it would be good for you to be grown up for a while, okay? Can you grow up for me?โ€ She nodded again, and after a brief pause the subtle changes in her body language started. She stood up more confidently, and her smile was covering whatever she was going to say next. I thought we could talk properly now.

โ€œSorry to interrupt,โ€ I said. โ€œDinner will be ready in a few minutes, but I wasnโ€™t sure if you were feeling frustrated by the coordination thing. And the reach thing. I wanted to make sure Iโ€™m not pushing a little too hard.โ€

โ€œThank you. Iโ€™m okay with it, really. I never imagined it would feel so real. This whole experience is just incredible. I really couldnโ€™t do things, and I feel so helpless, and then youโ€™re there doing exactly the right things. Being strict, but never cruel. Helping me without being condescending. Or, you know, just the right amount of condescending to make me feel so small. Itโ€™s incredible, I canโ€™t think you enough.โ€

โ€œAndโ€ฆโ€ This time it was me who was lost for words.

โ€œThe spanking?โ€ she raised an eyebrow. โ€œYeah. That made me feel small too, but in a different way. And it hurt so much! I mean, when Iโ€™ve done that withโ€ฆ you knowโ€ฆ he can take like thirty swats at my ass and itโ€™s just a little red. I think he doesnโ€™t want to hurt me, but I never expected you to be so strong. I mean, I donโ€™t know if youโ€™re really that strong, or if you made it feel more intense, but it felt real to me. And there was a feeling there. Like, regretting what Iโ€™d done, and wanting to improve so I wouldnโ€™t get another spanking. Like you were trying to teach me something. Thatโ€™s the difference, I think, it meant something, not just a feeling I can get off on. That really, really wasnโ€™t what I was expecting. But I think itโ€™ll help me to think before pushing boundaries. And I hope I donโ€™t need it again.โ€

She started to blush again, maybe realising sheโ€™d been babbling. There was nothing I could do except whisper โ€œIโ€™m sorryโ€ and โ€œThank youโ€.

โ€œNo, thank you. Daddy,โ€ she gave a little smirk. โ€œYou could have had me, and you didnโ€™t. You could have started spanking and then turned it into something sexy, until I couldnโ€™t tell where the pain starts and the pleasure ends. Thatโ€™s what I was asking for, but you keep my impulses under control. And you did the right thing, even when we both know how much you would have enjoyed it. I need somebody with that kind of self control to give me what I need instead of what I want sometimes. And I think you did everything right, even if Iโ€™ll have a reminder every time I sit down for a few days.โ€

โ€œI donโ€™t like hurting you,โ€ I said.

Lynn stepped closer, and put her arms around me. There was emotion there, but a mixture of so many feelings that it was still hard to read. She didnโ€™t trace the shape of my muscles, or squeeze my ass. All I could feel here was gratitude, comfort, and a happiness that I didnโ€™t know if Iโ€™d ever understand.

โ€œI know. And I hope you donโ€™t have to. But if you think I need it, I trust you with that.โ€ The silence after that was just a little tense, until Lynn broke it with a cheery smile: โ€œSo, what culinary masterpiece do you have for us today?โ€

โ€œIโ€™ve just got some pork stew on for us. Nothing particularly inventive, Iโ€™m afraid.โ€

โ€œStew sounds fine. Iโ€™m sure youโ€™ll be surprising me with something exotic and wonderful tomorrow or the day after. Thatโ€™s one benefit of coming here that I never expected. Soโ€ฆโ€ the last syllable was drawn out into something that could have been a question.

โ€œSo, youโ€™re going to ask if you can be a little girl again this evening? I think you know my answer already.โ€

โ€œI think I might actually need some more time working,โ€ she blushed, and looked down at her hands. โ€œIโ€™ve been a bad girl today. I kind of got distracted by some videos online this morning, so Iโ€™ve not done as much as I expected. So maybe just a little bit little at dinner time, and then Iโ€™ll try to catch up?โ€

โ€œSounds good to me. So what kept your attention for so long?โ€

โ€œItโ€™sโ€ฆ can you get youtube on the TV here? I kind of want to show you, but itโ€™s certainly not suitable for kids.โ€

* * *

The smart TV, of course, could display most videos from the Internet. So after Lynn had changed into a more casual outfit with fewer frills, and I brought two bowls of food into the lounge, we amused ourselves with her latest discovery. It was STP, and I recognised some of the episodes weโ€™d seen the day before, but considerably cut down and overdubbed by people who were surprisingly capable of imitating the original voices. The difference here was that everyone โ€“ even the children and the cat โ€“ swore like sailors whenever something didnโ€™t go their way, and several of the characters spent the entire episode trying to get laid or get their hands on drugs. I donโ€™t know if it was the juxtaposition of child-friendly characters and such crudely applied adult themes, but I found it about as hilarious as Lynn did, and we were both laughing by the time our bowls were empty.

โ€œOne more?โ€ It was the fifth time sheโ€™d asked; these episodes were less than ten minutes each, so getting sucked in was less of a danger than it was with the original series.

โ€œI thinkโ€ฆโ€ I started cautiously, and then something caught my eye and I probably had a visible wicked grin. โ€œWould you like to be littler?โ€ Before she could answer, I turned around and popped a pacifier into her mouth. Lynnโ€™s eyes widened, and she found herself nodding without thinking, all her adult cares quickly fading away.

โ€œJust relax, and feel the years melting away,โ€ I instructed, and she kept on nodding. โ€œAnd obey. Youโ€™re going to feel like a little girl again, but just a little bit. Youโ€™ll be able to act like a grown-up, and do all the things you need to do. But any time you start to worry tonight, youโ€™ll find those little feelings returning. You might be just a little bit giggly, and proud of how well you can pretend to be an adult. Youโ€™ll be able to do your work just fine, but while nobody can see you it well seem natural to keep sucking your pacifier, and all the boring adult things you do will feel new and exciting, like youโ€™re doing them for the first time as you play at being an adult. Is that okay?โ€

She nodded eagerly, and kept sucking the pacifier. I tapped her nose again, and repeated part of the same instruction in different words to make sure sheโ€™d taken in all the nuances. I repeated it three or four times, because I wanted to be sure her work was still up to adult quality, even if she was giggling on the inside, and I could see the corners of a smile peeking out from behind the pacifierโ€™s guard, growing wider each time. She practically skipped upstairs back to her room, and I concluded that with everything considered, this had been a pretty good day for both of us.

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15 hours ago, zackh8 said:

Yeah Mick seems like a natural lol

Yeah ๐Ÿ˜›ย Like the way he knows that child-sized pacifiers can be bad for your teeth, so he lets her choose some and then swaps them for a NUK5 teat (which he just happened to have) as soon as they get home.

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Aย Little Break - Day 2 / Chapter 13: Bedtime

Lynn leaned back from her laptop, and rubbed her eyes. Sheโ€™d done all the work she needed for today, so tomorrow would have less of a pressing deadline. It was the first time sheโ€™d actually been ahead of target for more than a weak, what with the ongoing stress of messages of hate every time she gave in to temptation and checked her social media profiles.

Now she was safe. She wasnโ€™t reading anything that might worry her. She could just do her work, and when she needed some relaxation there was more than enough to keep her occupied in the real world. Sheโ€™d sent Clark a message earlier in the day, to let him know that she was taking a break and not to worry too much, in case he even cared anymore. Sheโ€™d told him she was going to be out of contact for a while, so if he didnโ€™t want to burn those bridges completely she could assume that heโ€™d let everyone else know to quiet down online.

Work was a lot easier when she wasnโ€™t worrying so much about it. Stress became excitement, and drudgery became a game. She still felt young, and every time she popped the pacifier back in her mouth, everything became a game. She was determined to do well, because that was the aim of the game, but she didnโ€™t need to worry about what would happen if she failed. This way, she could do her best without ever needing to think about the consequences. It really was the best of both worlds.

She looked across at the neatly folded nightdress on her pillow. She was sure now that she could get herself feeling like a little girl just by putting the clothes on, and then sheโ€™d be too excited to sleep for a few minutes and then drop so quickly that she didnโ€™t even feel it coming. But at the same time, she didnโ€™t want to overdo it.

She put the nightdress on one side, and shrugged her T-shirt and leggings off into the laundry pile. Sheโ€™d been wearing adult clothes already, but somehow stripping to her underwear started her feeling a little more adult. Not completely, though. She tried putting the pacifier back in her mouth, and found a wave of warmth and comfort flowing over her. She put it on the desk beside her bed for now, in case she wanted to feel littler later. She sent me an email as well, saying that she felt a little too tired for a bedtime story today, but she might like to try it tomorrow.

Now she just wanted to rest, and not to think about the redness of her bottom. Somehow, it managed to hurt in just the right way. Not a pain that her masochistic side would enjoy, and not something she could easily ignore. But just the kind of discomfort that would help her remember not to push on that boundary again.

She pulled on a slightly oversized T-shirt, one of the few sheโ€™d brought with her, and climbed under the dinosaur-patterned duvet. Tomorrow, she promised herself, would be a day of being a good girl. Whether that meant doing all her work promptly without too many distractions, or playing with toys in a completely innocent way, she was determined to improve herself and do the right things.

As she closed her eyes, she found herself sitting in the lounge again. Just like she had when she first arrived. She didnโ€™t know if she was dreaming, remembering, or hallucinating, or even if there was much of a difference.

โ€œGood.โ€ My voice filled her world, so important that she wasnโ€™t thinking anything aside from what I was asking her to consider. And she was so calm, she knew that none of these questions could ever be a problem โ€œNow, are there any particular things youโ€™d like to try? Things youโ€™re intending to ask for, or things you would like me to surprise you with?โ€

โ€œA lot of times, Clark used to tell me that Iโ€™m a bad girl,โ€ she answered right away. โ€œSometimes heโ€™d spank me. Not hard, I donโ€™t think heโ€™s got a sadistic bone in his body, and itโ€™s more like a tap. But still fun. Or heโ€™d say he wants me to be naughty, and Iโ€™ve got to suck his dick until he forgives me.โ€

โ€œAnd you enjoy that?โ€

โ€œIt was fun. And I like making him happy, it makes me feel good inside.โ€

ย โ€œSo is that what youโ€™d like me to do?โ€

โ€œYes,โ€ she didnโ€™t hesitate at all. โ€œIโ€™ve always wanted you to take control of me. Youโ€™re the only guy who really could. But I think thatโ€™s not part of the little girl thing, not really. Like, kids donโ€™t get off on being spanked. And Iโ€™m not going to cheat on him. I mean, donโ€™t get me wrong, I really want to. But I know I shouldnโ€™t. No sex, thatโ€™s a rule. Unless things really break down with Clark, and weโ€™re sure he wonโ€™t take me back.โ€

โ€œNo sex, no spanking. This is for age regression, feeling little. Not anything that might make you horny. Okay?โ€

โ€œWell, I donโ€™t know about spanking. I mean, I wouldnโ€™t write it off completely. Iโ€™m kind of curious how it would feel to be punished, really. Like, if thereโ€™s a way for it to actually feel like a punishment, instead of turning me on.โ€

There was a long moment of silence. Thinking back to it now, Lynn wondered what might have been going through my mind then. She was sure she would never even have mentioned that normally, she would have been to embarrassed to say the words. But she knew what sheโ€™d meant by it. There was a world of difference between โ€˜punishmentโ€™ in a masochistic, erotic sense and the kind of punishment that was actually supposed to teach, or to change a bad habit. Sheโ€™d realised while we were talking that she couldnโ€™t remember ever experiencing actual punishment, because a spanking had always been a kind of foreplay, a treat for playing the role of a bad girl well. And she knew how much that kind of curiosity could excite her; the possibility to learn something about herself wasnโ€™t a thing sheโ€™d turn down.

โ€œThat would mean doing something wrong, though,โ€ I answered eventually, โ€œAnd Iโ€™m certainly not going to encourage you to be a bad girl just for the sake of punishment. But Iโ€™ll remember that.โ€

โ€œI can be bad without any prompting,โ€ she said. โ€œLike showing off this stuff in a selfie that all my friends are going to see. Or not tidying up after myself.โ€

โ€œI wouldnโ€™t say thatโ€™s bad. And Iโ€™ve always thought needing someone to clean up after them was a defining trait of children. If it makes you happy, and helps you to feel like a little girl, then itโ€™s something I should be encouraging, not punishing.โ€

โ€œI wish Clark could be so tolerant. I donโ€™t mind, itโ€™s not something that particularly interested in. But if thereโ€™s a habit I need to break, then maybe a spankingโ€™s the best way to deal with it. If you think itโ€™s appropriate. Like if I canโ€™t control myself, you could help me learn.โ€

โ€œLike if you start to push against the rules we agreed?โ€ย Lynn could only remember the words, but she imagined thereโ€™d been a little smirk there, some kind of amusement. I must have known how hard sheโ€™d find it not to flirt, not to push me for a different kind of attention. Sheโ€™d already told me how much she wanted me, even as she promised me that she wasnโ€™t going to cheat on her husband. โ€œIf you canโ€™t control your desires, you want to be punished?โ€

โ€œIf you want. I missed that so much since Iโ€™ve been married. His heartโ€™s in the right place, but he hasnโ€™t got the nerve to hurt me. And I donโ€™t think you ever spanked me, but Iโ€™m sure youโ€™d do it properly. I want you so much. But I think that might be something I need punishing for too. Unless you can make me feel so little that I donโ€™t get excited by it. Can you do that?โ€

โ€œI can try. Youโ€™re sure thatโ€™s what you want? If you misbehave, Iโ€™ll ask you to feel younger. Innocent, too innocent to understand that you might enjoy being punished. And I promise you, you wouldnโ€™t enjoy it. But it would be an experience. Is that what you want? Then count yourself down for me.โ€

She found herself nodding without even thinking, and then she was saying โ€œFive,โ€ and โ€œFour,โ€ and then there was nothing else to remember.

Lynn didnโ€™t need to know any more. Sheโ€™d got what she wanted, and she was still astounded by how real it had felt to be punished. And she was sure that if I put her in that mindset again, she would quickly learn to control her licentious thoughts. But she didnโ€™t want to think about those right now, so she reached out and took the pacifier from the end of the desk. As she drifted back into a deep and dreamless sleep, the only thoughts on her mind were of how much she wanted to be a good girl tomorrow.
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Aย Little Break - Day 5 / Chapter 14: Mischief

I woke up early in the morning, and took some time to stretch. The sun was just shining through the gap in the curtains, reminding me that summer was coming closer now. I was a little tired after last night, when I hadnโ€™t got to bed nearly as early as I should have, but a secondโ€™s thought reminded me why I needed to be awake today.

I stretched, and stumbled in the direction of my en suite bathroom, splashing cold water on my face to help me wake and then racing through a shave and a shower in a little over ten minutes. I didnโ€™t need to be rushing so much, but getting myself up as rapidly as possible would hopefully lead to me feeling awake through the morning, and I wouldnโ€™t be so slow to think later on.

When I got downstairs, I could still smell my new shampoo in a cloud of slightly-artificial fragrance around me every time I moved. According to the bottle, it was green scented. I wouldnโ€™t otherwise have had any idea what green was supposed to smell like, but this one did it pretty well. A hint of cut grass, a hint of pine forest, and just the subtlest note of disinfectant which seemed to infest most modern menโ€™s toiletries.

Pretty soon, I was sure, it would be drowned out by the holy trinity of breakfast aromas: espresso, bacon, and cinnamon toast.

Lynn didnโ€™t come down while I was filling up my plate today, so I decided to see if she was awake. Iโ€™d noticed passing her room that the door was ajar, which weโ€™d now agreed would be a signal that she was feeling little and didnโ€™t mind me checking on her. To her, apparently, a lack of privacy was only natural for a child. She wanted to know that her Daddy could check on her at any time, so that she couldnโ€™t risk being naughty and to make sure that she got up when she was too young to keep track of where she was supposed to be at what time.

I thought for a few minutes, and selected a plastic tray with a big illustration of Princess Petalbudd on it. I gave her a plate, three slices of toast, a whole mound of bacon, and a fried egg on top. Then I put little pots of ketchup and mustard on the side, not sure which she would prefer. I gave her a tiny plastic knife and fork, which looked like they were made of jelly, even though I doubted sheโ€™d need them for a sandwich. The knife certainly wouldnโ€™t cut anything, but the bacon today was fried until brittle and would snap under the slightest pressure. I was sure that cooking choice wasnโ€™t the healthiest in the world, but it was what I liked and Iโ€™d never heard a complaint from a houseguest. I filled a cup with juice as well, and placed it on one corner of the tray. This cup had a selection of different screw-on lids, and I selected one with a tiny silicone spout. It wasnโ€™t the teat of a baby bottle, but it was only one step removed. A cup for a child who wasnโ€™t yet old enough to hold a cup without tipping the contents out. And then, trying to make sure that everything was perfect, I added one of her dolls to the far corner of the tray, sitting at a tiny dinner table with her own breakfast moulded into the surface.

I nudged open the bedroom door with my elbow. It felt just a little invasive, even though this place was normally my spare room. I wouldnโ€™t have walked in on any other guest, but Lynn had told me how much she wanted to let go of her independence, her privacy, and her choice.

She was lying on her side, under a princess duvet twisted so that both her feet peeked out of the bottom. Her pyjamas were twisted around her as well, giving the impression that sheโ€™d done a lot of tossing and turning in the night. She had both arms wrapped around the largest of her stuffed toys, currently some kind of unicorn rhinoceros thing. There was a purple octopus under one arm, its tentacles trailing around her, and a huge grin on her face. She was still sleeping, I gathered, and there was a part of me that didnโ€™t want to disturb her when she seemed so calm and carefree. But my plans for today had taken a lot of effort over the last couple of days, and I didnโ€™t want her to miss this chance.

So after Iโ€™d set the tray down on her desk, carefully out of spilling range of her laptop in case it was knocked, I pulled the tag that operated the rotating light shade. Coloured impressions of the spirit ghosts started to march around the walls, and a tinny piece of battle music started to play. It had been quite a challenge to wire the electronics up to the light fitting, but I was sure it was worth it now.

โ€œPrincess?โ€ I said after a few seconds, waiting for her to wake up. But Lynnโ€™s eyes were still closed, and she didnโ€™t move at all. โ€œAre you awake yet?โ€

Again there was no visible response.

โ€œAre you still alive, Princess? Daddy has plans for today, and Iโ€™m sure you donโ€™t want me to leave you behind. Iโ€™m sure youโ€™d make a real mess of the place on your own, wouldnโ€™t you?โ€

She didnโ€™t move, and didnโ€™t make a sound. But I could see that smile growing, and the muscles around her neck tensing slightly as she tried to hold back a giggle. Sheโ€™d probably been half asleep when I came in, and now she was just playing games with me. I wasnโ€™t sure if that was a naughty thing for a little girl to do or not; but I never considered offering a spanking for something like this. My goal was to help her feel as little as she possibly could, so I wanted her to be playful and even mischievous if that was what it took to bring a smile to her face. But there were still punishments available that I thought might get her out of bed without spoiling this playful mood.

I picked up one of her other cuddly friends, a fox who had somehow acquired the name Frederick The Giraffe. His fur was thick plush that made my fingers almost disappear as I picked him up and spoke to him: โ€œOh dear, Freddie. It looks like Lynn isnโ€™t awake this morning. She wonโ€™t be able to eat her bacon now, and she might end up being super hungry later. What do you think we should do?โ€

The giggles were clearly audible now, but if Lynn wanted to believe that I thought she was asleep, then I would play along with her game.

โ€œOhh, you donโ€™t say?โ€ I paused a second, and then allowed Frederic to rock back and forth in my hands, as if he were speaking to me. I didnโ€™t know if Lynn would be watching, if she might have opened her eyes a crack for just a second when she thought I might not notice, but I wanted to keep up the game just in case she did catch a glimpse of me holding a conversation with her plushie. โ€œYou are a naughty fox, but I do believe that might work. Thankyou, Mister The Giraffe, thank you very much.โ€

I took a couple of strides towards the door, stepping on the two squeaky floorboards that I knew would whine to let Lynn know where I was standing while I was behind her.

โ€œSo how do you think we shouldโ€ฆโ€ I pushed the door open, and let it close again. It whispered quietly across the carpet. โ€œUh huh. Uh huhโ€ฆ Thatโ€™s probably best. We need to be sure she hasnโ€™t caught sleeping sickness, after allโ€ฆ Hey, if sheโ€™s got lost in dreamland, we might have to send out a search party.โ€

Lynn would surely hear my voice moving out onto the landing, even if she didnโ€™t catch every word. But she wouldnโ€™t hear me walking back into the room, taking lighter steps now. I could see her squirming under the covers, the need to remain asleep fighting against her urge to see where I actually was. She didnโ€™t move for now, but one foot poked out a little bit farther. That was all the cue I needed.

Ten seconds later, Lynn was squealing, and her legs thrashing. Frederickโ€™s tail, it turned out, was a perfect implement for tickling. His fuzz was just long enough, and Lynnโ€™s feet were even more ticklish than I could possibly have hoped for.

โ€œStooop!โ€ she finally managed to get a word out in between screams and giggles in approximately equal measure. I drew back with the tickling, and handed Frederick to her instead.

โ€œAre you awake now, Princess?โ€ I asked as she took him in one hand and attempted to hug him without letting go of either of the other two.

โ€œIโ€™m awake,โ€ she was still giggling, โ€œAnd youโ€™re a big meanie. You didnโ€™t need to do that! Ticklingโ€™s against the rules!โ€

โ€œIs it? I remember writing down the rules, and I donโ€™t think you said anything about tickling. Besides, it was Frederick who tickled you, with that fuzzy brush of his. And you seem to have forgiven him soon enough.โ€

โ€œYes, butโ€ฆ butโ€ฆโ€

โ€œI needed to wake you up, Princess. If you kept on sleeping for a hundred years, then your breakfast would be cold. And Iโ€™d have to find a really good landscape gardener to help me prune the bushes, wouldnโ€™t I?โ€

Lynn looked confused for a moment, but not enough to interrupt either the grinning or the giggling. That comment had probably gone straight over her head, but that didnโ€™t worry me because I knew my sense of humour could be more than a little oblique at times.

โ€œI wasnโ€™t asleep,โ€ she pouted. โ€œYou didnโ€™t needed toโ€ฆโ€ Then she clapped both hands over her mouth, and didnโ€™t say anything else.

โ€œWere you pretending?โ€ I asked. โ€œI couldnโ€™t tell. I thought you were sound asleep, and you might sleep forever if we didnโ€™t wake you. So I asked Freddy there if he had any ideas how to wake you up. I didnโ€™t know what he was planning on, I swear.โ€

โ€œItโ€™s naughty tickling people,โ€ Lynn still pouted, and then she wagged a finger sternly at the plushie in her arms, tapping him on the nose once or twice. โ€œBad foxie. You did a naughty thing, you need spankings.โ€

โ€œIsnโ€™t it naughty pretending to be asleep when Daddy wants to give you breakfast?โ€ I asked. She started to protest, wondering what punishment sheโ€™d got herself in for, but I carried on talking over her to put those fears to bed: โ€œSo now weโ€™re even. And Frederick has saved the kingdom from the curse of the sleeping princess, which I think makes him a very brave fox indeed. Perhaps you should knight him, for saving your breakfast from getting cold. Then weโ€™d have to call him Sir The Giraffe.โ€

โ€œBreakfast?โ€ Lynn suddenly perked up properly, and looked around the room. To be honest, I was surprised she hadnโ€™t spotted the word previously. I was sure Iโ€™d mentioned it more than once, and Iโ€™d not known her to overlook my cooking before.

I stood, and lifted the tray from her desk. I held it within reach, and she froze in indecision for just a moment, torn between reaching for the overstuffed sandwich, or clearing the menagerie of soft toys off her lap so that Iโ€™d have a space to put the tray down. In the end, she settled for taking the cup from the tray and offering it to all of the toys within reach before taking a sip herself. The silicone spout kept it from spilling, so none of the artificial animals actually got a taste. And that meant I didnโ€™t need to interfere with her game in order to keep them clean and dry.

When everyone had been offered a drink, she looked up to see me still standing patiently with the tray, and moved the octopus aside. Then I could hand her the tray, and she could tuck into a breakfast that she really seemed to enjoy.

I sat on the end of her bed, and we chatted while she was eating. I had to remind her once that she was supposed to be eating, and not just playing with all the soft toys. But for the most part, the smell of the bacon worked its magic and helped her to keep a little focus. Eventually I had to take her plate away, telling her twice that no amount of licking would get any more bacon off it when there was clearly none left. She laughed, and I couldnโ€™t help joining in.
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