Letters To Santa (Patreon)

Here's this month's Community Caption! Pictures property of ABDreams!

"It's like it's all about her," Amanda grumbled, taking another swig of her beer.

Tanya nodded, as sympathetically as she could, although she couldn't resist pointing out, "Well, she is just a kid."

"Yeah, I know that," Amanda rolled her eyes. "I think she even still believes in Santa! Can you believe that?! She's ten! She's such a spoiled little baby..."

"How old were you when you stopped believing in Santa?" her friend asked.

"I was... umm..." Amanda pondered for a couple moments, but it was too hard to think about any one thing for that long. "I don't know! It was a long time ago! I'm sure I was younger than her, though!"

"You know I love you," Tanya said, "but... It sounds like you're just jealous."

"Am not!" Amanda pouted. "Why would I be jealous of that brat?! Just because she has way more presents, and mom and dad have been spending every waking moment doing whatever she wants, even though I'm the one who just came back in from college? They don't even make her do chores! I had to do chores all the time when I was her age!"

"I can't imagine," Tanya smiled patiently. "I think that should probably be your last drink."

But Amanda snuck another when Tanya wasn't looking, which would have been hard to do, even when she was sober. There weren't a ton of people there at her little party... Having it on Christmas Eve certainly didn't help. It was the first day when all of their friends from high school were in town, and the last - other than Christmas itself - before some were heading back out. It had been the best time to have it, they'd all decided, though family events still kept most of them from being able to show up, or stay for long.

Amanda, of course, had no problem... Her parents wanted to take Kristi to see the big Christmas light display the next city over. They'd invited Amanda, but, to her, it felt like a long time in the car to look at some lights, and she was sure it would be super busy, so they'd have to spend almost as long in line. 

She'd pointed it out to them, and asked how they were going to have their traditional Christmas Eve supper of lasagna, a tradition that had started back when Amanda was younger than Kristi, and it was her favorite meal. "We're going to grab something on the way," her mother had told her.

"There are no good Italian places on the way," Amanda had whined.

"Then we'll just get something else. Kristi likes..."

That was when Amanda had stopped listening. Of course, tradition didn't matter... The way they'd done things for years and years didn't matter... All that mattered was what her little sister liked, what she wanted. Ditching them and coming to Tanya's party had been an easy decision. 

She hadn't intended to get quite so drunk, knowing they'd be up early the next day, and that it would likely get loud as Kristi opened up her presents and probably got everything on her list and squealed in happiness over and over, while their parents no doubt had forgotten to even buy Amanda anything until she arrived back home, and had gotten her some boring socks and whatever cheap junk they could find last minute.

Tanya didn't let Amanda drive home, taking her back herself. Amanda was surprised to see her parents' car there, having assumed it would take so long to get through the lights on Christmas Eve that she would beat them home, but, luckily, everyone was in bed when she stumbled in.

The house was quiet and calm, lit only by the soft glow of the Christmas tree. Amanda stumbled over to it, smirking at the sight of the cookies and milk left out for Santa, along with Kristi's letter to Santa, grabbing one of the cookies and munching on it thoughtfully as she stared.

There was no Santa, obviously... The only people who were going to see what she wrote were her parents, although, since they were the ones who needed to read it, that was okay. And, in case she was wrong...

It was a dumb thought, one that wouldn't have even occurred to her if she hadn't been so drunk. Kristi might be enough of a baby to believe in Santa, but Amanda was an adult... If anyone would have the power to convince her parents they were being ridiculous, however, it was somebody with magical powers. If he could get around the world in one night, and deliver presents to every child, then he could surely do that.

It wasn't hard to find colored pencils sitting out - her parents would have made her put them up and take them back to her room when she was done with them, Amanda thought - and hunch over the letter. 'And please let Mommy and Daddy acknowledge that Amanda is here, too,' she scribbled, perhaps a little melodramatically. 'And give her just as much attention as me.' After a moment, she scratched out 'just as much' and replaced it with 'even more.' It was only fair... Kristi had been getting all of it so far, Amanda ought to get the lion's share for the next week, until she left again.

The thought of staggering back to her room was a bit overwhelming, so she laid down on the sofa and drifted off, thinking idly that, if Santa did show up, she'd be able to hear him, and explain in person why she deserved this. As if he didn't already know... He was watching everything, after all. He probably agreed with her.

When she woke up, everything was different. She wasn't on the couch, for one, although she wasn't shocked at that... As drunk as she'd been, she likely should have just slept on the floor in the first place, since it was inevitable she would roll off at some point in the night. She was also mostly naked, which, again, wasn't a huge surprise... If she got drunk enough, she tended to undress in her sleep. It did make her wish she'd made it to her room, but, luckily, she was still alone, so she'd dodged a bullet there.

Except... She hadn't stripped down to her underwear. Or, rather, her underwear wasn't the same as it had been when she went to sleep. She frowned, squirming, feeling the soft, fluffy bulk between her legs, so much thicker than her skimpy, silk panties, so much bigger in every way... She felt like she was drowning in them, like they were gigantic...

And there was a noise, too, one it took her an embarrassingly long time to connect with her own movement. At first, she'd nervously looked towards the door to the living room, thinking someone was coming, but it wasn't the sound of footsteps, and it only happened when she moved. It was almost like she was lying on an empty chip bag or something... Had she gotten herself a snack without remembering it?

She glanced down at herself, gasping quietly at what she saw. At first, it was what appeared to be a pair of panties, although the cut and the designs on them were incredibly juvenile, infantile, even... When she saw what was peeking out from over the waistband, however, how much they were bulging outwards, it became obvious that she'd been mistaken. They weren't underwear, it was a diaper cover... And it was doing exactly what it was designed for.

"What the hell?!" she gasped, sitting up, reaching down with both hands, blushing as she heard the crinkle again, felt the thick padding, confirming what she already knew. "Mom! Dad!"

She wasn't sure why she did it... She immediately regretted it, even without noticing she hadn't exactly said what she'd thought, that her mouth had morphed the words just slightly, adding a 'y' to the end of both, making her sound a bit whinier.

They had to have done it - she wouldn't have even known where to find diapers in her own size, and certainly wouldn't have put them on herself, especially not today, of all days - but that didn't mean she needed to alert them that she was awake, or that she knew. She should have gotten up, went to her room, changed, and maybe confronted them about it later, after she was back in real underwear, and clothes.

Here, she was vulnerable, humiliated, confused... And it was too late. She looked around, searching for a throw pillow, or anything to cover herself with - although she wasn't sure if she should prioritize hiding her bare chest, or her much-too-clothed crotch - hearing footsteps coming down the hall, knowing she couldn't get past them and to her room now.

She blushed, too slow to hide anything before they burst in. She crossed her arms in front of herself, mortified. "Wh-What is this?!" she demanded.

"I know," her mother smiled, kneeling down closer to her. "There's a lot of presents, aren't there? There weren't this many last night, were there?"

Amanda frowned, briefly distracted, wondering if that was true. She hadn't even thought to look, but there did appear to be more... Curiously, she looked at the tag on the closest, only to find that, for some reason, she could decipher what it said.

"You were supposed to wait for us to get you up, though, silly," her father teased. "And you were supposed to keep your PJs on! We can't have Christmas morning with a naked baby!"

"She was just excited," her mom chuckled. "This is why we still need to keep the side up on her crib."

"Wh-What are...?" Amanda shook her swimming head. They were acting like this was normal, taking her nudity, her obvious diaper, everything, in stride, and talking about cribs, as if she actually slept in one. But she hadn't done that since she was a toddler, obviously...

Kristi yawned from the doorway. "Is she up already?" she asked sleepily.

"Looks like it," their mom said. "Can you get her dressed for us while I make a quick breakfast so we can get to the presents? I don't think she can wait much longer. I think she needs a change, too."

"What?!" Amanda gasped, hands shooting back to her diaper. "N-No, I..."

She paused, nibbling her bottom lip, pushing in on the padding again. It was squishy there, in a way it didn't feel in the back, against her bottom... Had she really...?! She wasn't sure what was worse, that, or the fact that her mother had known about it before she did.

"Yes, sweetie, you have to eat," her mom told her. "Don't worry, we'll be back to open all your presents in no time!"

"Come on, little sis," Kristi offered her hand. "The sooner we get you dressed, the sooner we can get to the fun stuff!"

"What is going on?!" Amanda demanded as she toddled her way down the hall, holding her little sister's hand, struggling to get used to the wide gait her diaper was forcing her into.

"I told you, sweetie," Kristi said, "we hafta get you dressed! Then we can eat, and then we can do presents. Don't you remember this from last year? I guess not, huh? You were really little then... Even littler than you already are!"

Without warning, she tickled Amanda's exposed tummy, and the college girl let out an explosive giggle, squirming... And feeling a trickle of wetness dripping out into her already wet diaper. She gasped, clamping her hands to her crotch, but there was no stopping it, no hint of her potty training, something she'd taken for granted for so long, never even thought about... She was just peeing herself, with no way to stop it.

"Wh-What happened to my room?" she whimpered, distracted from her accident as they walked in. Her bed was gone, along with all the posters on her walls, her desk, everything... Instead, there was a crib, a changing table, a toy box overflowing with baby toys, things even Kristi had outgrown years and years ago.

"You sure made a mess, didn't you?" Kristi giggled. "Don't worry, I'll help you clean up later today. I bet you'll have lots of new things to try to stuff into your toy box anyway."

Amanda blushed as she was helped up onto the changing table, weakly trying to keep ahold of her diaper cover as Kristi slid it down. "I-I don't need diapers..." she sniffed, watching the girl get a fresh one out from under the table.

"You are so funny!" Kristi laughed. "We don't even have a training potty for you yet, cutie!"

"N-No, I-I can use..." Amanda protested, freezing as her sister tore open the tapes, started to clean her up, expertly taping her into the clean diaper, like she'd done it a thousand times.

"I think this'll be good for today!" Kristi declared, opening up Amanda's closet, revealing a whole wardrobe of oversized baby clothes, instead of her fashionable outfits, choosing a pink onesie, with a row of ruffles across the chest, and two on the bottom. Amanda wouldn't have been caught dead in it... But Kristi was already pulling it on over her head.

"You look adorable!" her mother cooed when they made their appearance in the dining room. Amanda whimpered, seeing the high chair sitting there, knowing, since it hadn't been there the day before, and Kristi was too old for it, that it had to be for her.

Sure enough, her dad helped her up into it, latching the tray in place, and tied a bib around her neck, her mother bringing over a bowl of disgusting, gray oatmeal, spoon-feeding it to her despite her protests. Thankfully, when it was over, they let her out, leading her back to the living room, to the presents.

Try as she might, she couldn't read the tags, but Kristi was happy to hand out the gifts. Amanda couldn't quite remember how numbers worked, either, though she was pretty sure she had way more presents than her sister, and, even though they were all baby stuff, there was something thrilling about being handed box after box to tear open.

She was definitely getting more attention than Kristi, just as she'd wanted... It wasn't in the form she'd expected, but it was happening. It made sense, of course, that a toddler would need more attention than a ten year old, and, even if she didn't want to be stuck as one, if there was one day it wouldn't be too bad to be a baby, it was Christmas.

Of course, it wasn't all good... Her tummy hadn't been feeling great for a little while, but she hadn't thought much about it until she got up onto her knees, reaching for her next present. All of the sudden, she could feel... something. It was moving, shifting slightly in her diaper, a yucky feeling that was slowly spreading. It wasn't until she started to smell it, to hear herself softly grunting, realize she was pushing unconsciously, that it all clicked into place. 

She was messing her diaper. Her mouth fell open, her hands shooting to the back of her diaper, then quickly moving to the front, nose wrinkling after having felt the mushy lump, and how she could feel it growing from the outside, as well as the inside. Just like before, she couldn't stop it, her muscles refusing to respond, as if she truly had never been potty trained.

"Uh-oh!" her mother chuckled. "I guess it's that time of the morning... Will you go fetch her mat, Kristi? We'll get her cleaned up once she's done with her presents."

This couldn't be happening, Amanda thought, lying there under the tree, exhausted from all that unwrapping, watching her family prepare a changing mat for her, to get her out of the very dirty diaper she was in, and into a fresh one.

It had to have been Santa... There was no other explanation. Even if her parents had seen her note, they couldn't have set all this up in one night, nor could they have so thoroughly wiped away her bladder and bowel control, her ability to read, to do anything she'd been able to do as an adult, just the previous day.

At first, it had been great, just getting present after present, knowing there was no expectation of her returning the favor, of getting them anything, or having to do anything to deserve them... After awhile, however, certainly once she'd pooped her pants, and been left to sit in it, feeling it squelch beneath her with every movement, helpless to clean herself up, having to wait on them to decide it was time, her mood began to shift.

There really was a lot... Would Santa really have brought her so many things, if he only wanted her to experience this for a day? She wanted to believe it was all a dream, but the loaded Pamper around her waist made that hard to buy; how could her mind have so accurately known what that felt like? It was so much worse, more mortifying, than she would have expected, especially doing it right in the middle of the living room, in front of her whole family, who all knew what was going on.

That was not the kind of attention she'd wanted. She would happily tell Santa that... Except, would he respond to letters this early? Surely, he knew what he'd done, and he'd be expecting one from her... Or did he think this really was what she wanted, and that it was a job well done? Nobody sent him letters until much closer to Christmas, so she had a bad feeling he might not bother to read them until then, and, even if he did, he probably wouldn't do anything about it until next Christmas, when he was making his rounds again. Why would he make a special trip just for her?

More importantly than that, however, was the question of whether she could write the letter... Or anything. She was so used to being able to, it hadn't occurred to her at first, until, as she was getting changed, she looked over at the pile of ripped paper, and saw one of the tags. She couldn't read... Why would she be able to write?

And, indeed, when she went back to her room - or what it had been turned into, rather, since it was hard to consider this nursery her old bedroom, despite it being, technically, the same room - and opened up her new box of crayons, and got some construction paper, the best she could make were some scribbles.

Of course, since she couldn't read, it was possible those scribbles meant something, and she just didn't know what... But that didn't really help. If she didn't know what she was writing, she might as well not be writing anything... And, to be honest, when she compared it to the words in her pictures books, what she'd done didn't look similar to any of them.

She was a toddler, the baby of the household, through and through. She couldn't read, couldn't write, wasn't potty trained... And, from the way everyone was treating her, she had a feeling they saw her as too little to try to teach those things to for quite a while. Maybe, since she knew she'd been an adult before, they'd come easier to her... But, try as she might, she couldn't remember anything useful from that part of her life, no matter how recent it had been, as if the drunken haze from the night before was obscuring everything except the simple knowledge that this wasn't how things were meant to be, that she should be a college student, not a diaper-filling little baby.

If she didn't wake up the next day, and things were back to normal, she was trapped like this the whole year... And, then, she'd only be able to get out of this if she managed to learn to write in that year, and got good enough at it to make Santa understand she'd made a mistake this year. Hopefully, she could pull that off... But her hands felt so shaky and weak, like she really was a toddler, not ready for it... It might be two years, or three, and, by then, would she remember the truth? Or would she think that had all been just a dream, and accept her new life as the little sister of the family?

She went to sleep in her crib that night, with the sun still up outside her window, hoping she'd wake up the next day to another surprise... But the only shock that confronted her that morning - something that she'd very soon get all-too used to - was how absolutely drenched her diaper was, after having been put to bed completely dry.