Prove It (Patreon)

A short story commission from an anonymous Patron.

"Then why don't you Prove It?"

It took Margot a moment to realize what he was saying, exactly. She'd seen the commercial a thousand times, passed a billboard for it on the way to work, saw an ad for it in nearly every magazine she flipped through, yet she'd never had it suggested to her as something she should do. She'd never expected to, either... She'd always thought her maturity was obvious.

She supposed she had to admit, her actions could be taken as a bit childish, even if, in her mind, they were perfectly justified. Wyatt wasn't a bad lawyer, no, however it was clear, at least to her, that he was nowhere near as good as her; the only reason she kept getting passed over for big cases, and now, as a new partner in the firm, was the fact he was an Amazon, and she was a Betweener.

"That's ridiculous," she rolled her eyes. "This just isn't fair, and anyone could see that..."

"Sounds like something a kid would say," Wyatt teased. "You aren't helping your case."

"I am not a kid!" she stomped her foot, glaring, knowing that would make her look more childish, but not caring. "Fine, you want me to Prove It? I will! And once I pass, I want you to take my certificate in to the senior partners yourself, and tell them why I deserved the spot more than you."

"Sure," he shrugged, not sounding worried at all, like he might actually believe she wouldn't pass. She'd spotted a few commercials, mostly when she was flipping through channels she didn't normally watch, and seen some ads in magazines she didn't subscribe to at Amazon clients' houses, with a before and after that wasn't quite so beneficial... Most of the ones she saw on a regular basis, however, talked about what a big help it was, how it had helped prevent some awful things, or get other 'tweeners the promotions they deserved... Maybe she should have thought of this herself.

"Go on," he urged. "Schedule it." 

She looked at him suspiciously. "I will," she told him. "What's your hurry?"

"Hey, I'm just trying to help," he held his hands up. "I mean, if you don't have anyone there to testify to how you usually act, that's an automatic five year deduction, but that's up to you."

Margot did some research, of course, once he was off to his own office, though the more she thought about it, the more she thought she remembered hearing that. And, unfortunately, it was true... Normally, that role was filled by whoever was challenging the test-taker, but even if the challenger wasn't able to show up, or the subject went in of their own volition, there had to be someone to do it.

There were other people she could have asked, but he had, technically, challenged her, even if he hadn't dragged her to the testing center. If she brought in a ringer, he'd always claim her results were skewed, and didn't count... So, once she'd scheduled a date, she told him, positive that, no matter what he said, she could contradict it with the rest of her performance.

As a lawyer she obviously read through the contract before she signed it. Mostly, it was what she expected, with a few surprises... The ads always said they were showing real users, not actors, although she hadn't known if she bought that or not; apparently, everyone who did the test had to consent to have a before and after picture taken, and agree to be used in the advertising campaign if the company wanted. Worse than that, however, was the clause saying that, if she was deemed too young to care for herself, her witness would be put in charge of her, and they had the option of either adopting her on the spot, or agreeing to find a suitable home.

She was definitely glad Wyatt had come along now, not because she wanted him to have that kind of power over her, but, rather, to avoid any chance of the alternative. If there was no witness, and she got too low a score, she'd be turned over to an orphanage, a place meant mostly for Littles who had proven they couldn't care for themselves, or who had been convicted of a crime not severe enough to land them in proper prison. There were very few Betweeners there, and she wasn't about to let herself be one of them...

Of course, none of that truly mattered when she knew she was going to pass with flying colors. If anything, Wyatt might make up some lies, get a couple years knocked off her total, but she was going to do so well, he might get her down to her real age. She signed the contract, posed for a picture in her nice, professional, black dress, then waited for the next testing room to open up. 

"Oh," Wyatt told her casually, grinning. "I guess I forgot to tell you, but I was recording you the other day... It's quite the entertaining video." She wasn't sure what he was referring to until he pulled out his phone and tapped on a video, showing the woman herself on screen, rolling her eyes, stomping her foot, complaining how this wasn't fair, how she wasn't a child...

"Y-You can't show them that!" she went pale.

"I think I have to," he replied. "You want things to be fair, don't you? It would be pretty unfair to hide this evidence of your true self..."

Before she could beg him not to do it, the attendant came over to take her in. She knew this wouldn't go well now, but, to her horror, now that she'd signed the papers, she couldn't change her mind... And her mind was so preoccupied with what Wyatt was doing, she couldn't concentrate on her own tasks.

She was scowling behind her pacifier as they prepared her for her 'After' shot, squirming in her new training panties, so thick between her legs, the cotton so uncomfortable compared to the silk she was used to... The green and yellow plaid dress they'd provided for her was so short the trainers almost showed underneath, while maintaining a high neckline, showing off no cleavage whatsoever, unlike her black dress. Worst of all, on the band across the waist, the words 'Daddy's Girl' were emblazoned.

"You did so good," her new Daddy told her, taking her hand once the photo was snapped. "I bet you'll make it into one of their ads! I can't wait for you to do what you wanted, and take your certificate in to the senior partners, to show them why you'll be going to daycare now, instead of working for them... I highly doubt they'll be surprised."

Margot whimpered, fidgeting, wanting to ask for a do-over, positive she could do better... But the one thing she would have noticed on the contract even if she wasn't a lawyer, since it was written right above the signature line, in bold type, was, 'All results are legally binding, and final.'

___________________________________________

"That's weird," Jacki mused, pausing for a moment, rather than scrolling past the ad, as she had a million times before. 

It was almost like her phone was listening to her... Although, she'd seen it so many other times, it was probably just coincidence she was seeing it again now, after getting into an argument with her friend's mother about what a bad influence she was. Fighting with Allison's mom was a risky move, since, as an Amazon, the woman had any number of ways to hurt or humiliate a 'tweener like Jacki, but it still wound up happening too often.

The woman was such a prude, though... More than likely, she was jealous Jacki could still pull off her outfit, when she wouldn't have been able to for years, if ever. Jacki had worn a red crop top, with a neckline low enough to show off some cleavage - but not enough to make it obvious most of the breasts pushing against the fabric were being engineered by her bra, and a little extra padding - black, leather booty shorts, and leather knee high boots, with a nice, big heel.

"You look like a prostitute," the woman had said. "I am not letting Allison go anywhere with you dressed like that!" Jacki had argued she - and, by extension, Allison, who was the same age - was old enough to wear whatever she wanted, but it hadn't done her any good. Like most Amazons, it didn't matter to the woman how old Jacki was... She was still a Betweener, so she was basically little better than a child.

And now, here was this ad, asking her if she needed to prove her maturity, telling her there was a perfect way to do it. There were Prove It centers popping up all over the place, and, much like the ads, she'd ignored them, but she knew there was one right down the street from Allison's house. She could pop over there with the girl's mom to show her she was more than old enough to flaunt what she had, and still have time to hit the club.

She wasn't stupid, though... She did take a moment to look up reviews, steering towards sites that were more 'tweener focused so she knew it wasn't a bunch of Amazons trying to trick her into a trap. They were mostly positive, talking about how fair the process, and the results, were, and touting statistics of how few of the clients came out as babies, thereby proving it wasn't an Amazon scheme. A few complained that they didn't think they deserved to be scored so low, but they probably just didn't realize how immature they really were... She also stumbled across one site claiming nearly all the clients who went in were made to wear training pants, no matter what their score, 'just in case', although it sounded like a weird conspiracy theory, rather than anything real.

Allison's mother was happy to go along with her to witness this; obviously, she thought Jacki would fail. Jacki, herself, was a little worried once she was sat down with the written test, her eyes glazing over for a second as she saw how long it was, despite the warnings in the reviews about just that. She wasn't stupid - she'd gotten into college, after all - so once she'd calmed down, she thought she did all right.

That wasn't the end of it, of course... There was a treadmill and some weights at one side of the room, to test her strength and endurance. Those didn't go quite as well, partially because they wouldn't let her take off her boots first. As great as they made her legs look, they were more of a hindrance when she was attempting to do anything physical like that, especially the heels.

Once the doctor came in, however, she had to take the boots off. "Come on," the woman tapped her clipboard in annoyance. "We can't get an accurate recording of your height with those things on."

"H-Height doesn't have anything to do with maturity," Jacki pointed out, but, when she saw the woman jotting something down on her chart, she decided to comply, afraid that any further resistance might not help her results, that whether she resisted or not could be part of the test. She took them off, going immediately from being almost as tall as the doctor, to several inches shorter, which made her look far more intimidating as she took her measurements, then ordered Jacki to strip.

"C-Completely?" Jacki gulped for a moment, before leaping to action when the doctor started to write again. She hesitated only at her bra, knowing how vulnerable she felt without all its help. Nervously, she unhooked it, setting it down on the exam table beside her, exposing her true, almost flat, chest.

The doctor poked and prodded at her for a few minutes, then, to her horror, handed her a pair of what were unmistakably training pants. Jacki forced herself to chill out, to remember that site. "Th-These are 'just in case', right?"

The doctor didn't answer, simply waited for her to pull the awful, bulky things into place before giving Jacki her next piece of clothing - a light blue babydoll dress with a Peter Pan collar, and a skirt that was probably no shorter than her shorts, yet made her feel far more vulnerable. "Wait! I don't need this!" she whined, only to have it put on her by the doctor, after she shoved a pacifier into her mouth.

"Your physical and mental scores weren't bad," the doctor told her, as she tied the girl's hair up into a pair of ponytails, fastening them with festive, pink ribbons, "but anyone who tries to hide their true self dressing the way you did is nowhere near ready to care for themselves."

As Jacki was led back down the hall to have her photo taken again, the satisfying click of her heels replaced with the soft slap of the perfectly flat sandals she'd been given instead, she couldn't wait to get on her phone and write her own review, to warn everyone about this place. Her phone, however, had been with her clothes, which she didn't get back, and Allison's mother - her new guardian, she found out a few moments later, to her horror - told her she was too young by far for another one. This, she realized as she sat in the woman's backseat, arms folded, pouting, being driven to meet her best friend, now her big sister, must be why they had so few bad reviews... The people who really got screwed by these places probably weren't in a situation where they could write them, and warn anyone else.

___________________________________________

"Are you kidding me?" Kamila smirked. "It isn't even a debate, squirt... I'm way more mature than you."

Her red-headed little sister glared up at her, looking positively shocked. "Are you serious?!" she demanded. "You haven't helped me with the cleaning, or the cooking, or - well, anything! - in months!"

"It's my house," Kamila shrugged. "It's how you're repaying me for letting you stay here... And also part of the little sister tax." She reached out, tapping the smaller girl on the nose condescendingly. 

"Oh, please," Kaley rolled her eyes. "You're not even paying for this place..." Their parents were, and could have afforded to do so for Kaley, too, if they wanted. Kamila was supposedly searching for a job to do with her useless college degree, however, and once she was making enough money, she'd agreed to take over the payments; Kaley had refused to go to college, since she'd seen how little good Kamila's degree was doing her, and, because of that, their parents had cut her off financially. 

She was grateful to her big sister, of course, for giving her somewhere to live other than with their parents, who had constantly badgered Kaley over changing her mind about school when she was under their roof, but she felt she was being treated like a maid by someone who spent most of their day lying around the house, doing nothing. 

"Just look at you," Kamila shook her head. "You're running around in a Disney shirt... What are you, twelve?"

Kaley blushed, looking down at herself. It was true, she did have on a Lion King shirt, although part of that was because, unlike Kamila, she wasn't getting money to go shop for clothes for 'job interviews', which in reality mostly went towards whatever outfits Kamila thought looked cute. As cartoons went, it wasn't the most childish, but she had to admit, compared to her sister's more plain, patterned shirt, it was a bit immature.

"You know what?" Kaley said. "Why don't we Prove It? You know, once and for all, see who the real little sister should be?"

"Seriously?" Kamila chuckled. "I mean, sure, we can, if you're that eager to lose. We both know what the result is going to be."

"N-Not necessarily..." Kaley protested, her confidence wearing off a tad in the face of her sister's, especially when the girl stood up from the sofa, emphasizing how much taller she was. "I-It was just a joke..." she lied.

"No, no," Kamila grabbed her hand. "You want to do it, so let's do it! Right now!" She didn't give Kaley a chance to change her mind, or her shirt, just dragged her out to the car, eager to see how low she scored so she could rub it in her face.

"Oh, head to head," the receptionist said as she heard their explanation. "We don't get many of those. You two have a good chance of being in our ads with this."

"Great," Kamila grinned, pinching the blushing Kaley's cheeks as the other girl blushed. "I can't wait to see her cute, little face in her new clothes on a nice, big billboard for everyone to see."

It was all such a foregone conclusion, Kamila didn't pay that much attention to her written test, instead doing her best to distract Kaley from her's. She was surprised when Kaley outlasted her on the treadmill, until she recalled the girl had been on the track team in high school, and that she was able to keep up with her on the weights. When it came to the exam, however, Kamila knew she came out on top, and, despite the embarrassment of sitting there, naked, next to her sister, she was feeling excited to hear how badly she'd beaten her overall.

As soon as the doctor brought out the diaper, Kamila burst out laughing; she couldn't help herself. "I knew it!" she giggled. "And this was your idea, too, you dumb little baby! I can't wait to show... Hey, what are you doing?!" Her eyes widened as the doctor gestured to Kaley to get up off the table. Kamila tried to scramble away, only to get her wrists securely locked into a set of cuffs built into the table, leaving her helpless to stop herself from being taped into the diaper. To add insult to injury, a pair of plastic pants were tugged up over it, as if  the doctor didn't trust her to even be mature enough for a simple diaper to contain her accidents.

"What are you doing?!" Kamila raged. "This is a mistake! She's the baby sister, not me!"

"I'm afraid not," the doctor told her. "Her test scores are some of the highest I've ever seen. She's going to be able to get a job almost wherever she wants with her certificate. As for you... I don't want to say your scores are the lowest we've had, but they're definitely the lowest I've processed myself. They're so low, your sister here, as your new guardian, will probably be able to get a grant to help pay for the diapers, and daycare, you so obviously require."

When the billboard went up, her pink bottom wasn't visible, although she thought about it every time she saw it - which, since it was on the way to her daycare, was every day. Just as she'd wanted, her sister's face was plastered on it, smiling confidently from the 'After' section as she stood there, not even a Pull-Up beneath her pants and blazer to make Kamila feel slightly better about the diaper she was so obviously wearing as she stood next to her.

Other than the plastic pants, there was nothing to hide them. They'd put her in a Princess Sophia shirt - a Disney property far more immature than the one Kaley was wearing in the 'Before' section - that barely reached her belly button, and certainly wouldn't even stretch enough to shield her diaper from the camera. On the billboard, it was blatantly obvious they'd wiped all her makeup away between the two photos, and the plastic tiara and pacifier really drove home how much of a baby she was.

Kaley liked to keep her dressed similarly, pretending it was for ease of diaper checks, although Kamila knew it was more to further humiliate her, and ensure that anyone who saw them knew who was the baby sister, and that, yes, they were, indeed, the girls from the ad. They made a decent amount of money from that, and, between that and Kaley's new job, they didn't even need the grant anymore, or help from their parents, who had been happy to offer it to Kaley again after seeing the results of the test. Kamila hated to admit it, but her sister was doing very well.... Probably better than she would have, if things had been flipped. Maybe, despite how much she'd raged in the exam room before her spanking, and afterwards to her friends in daycare almost every day, the test really was accurate... Maybe she deserved to be in diapers. 

Although, whether she really deserved them or not to begin with, within a few weeks, she started to actually need them. If she was ever going to go back to even trainers, she'd have to be potty trained all over again... But she had a feeling that was something her big sister was never going to allow. And, since she was the big sister now, Kamila had little choice, other than to do as she said, even if it meant resigning herself to a life of early bedtimes, time-outs, and dirty diapers. After all, that was what Kamila had Proven she needed.