Compromise - Chapter 6 (Patreon)

"No!" Lizzie whined, stomping her foot. "I don't need them! I don't wanna!"

She knew she was being utterly ridiculous, but she couldn't help herself. She pouted, staring down at the trainers, her stomach churning at the sight. This was insane... There was no way she could let this happen...

Of course, she was the only person there, so it didn't really matter how much of a fuss she raised, how immature she made herself look, fighting it... And, she knew, ultimately, it wasn't going to matter what she said, either. She'd already made her choice; technically, she could change her mind, though she didn't see that happening. This was the whole - well, half - the reason she'd had Heather buy them for her in the first place.

The package had sat in the back of her closet for a few days, as if, somehow, by opening it, she would be inviting some ancient curse to inhabit her, to cause her to start having accidents and needing them. She'd kicked a shirt that had fallen off its hanger onto the pack after the first day, tired of blushing every time she caught a glimpse of it, however, she always knew it was there anyway.

And now, after finally finding a time that would work for both her and Heather, she knew it was time to bite the bullet. She'd taken a shower, wrapped herself in a towel, and knelt down in the closet, pushing the shirt aside, swallowing as the package came into view again. Like the contents were advertised as being, the packaging was pretty plain, not especially babyish... There were some young adults, playing Frisbee, one jumping into the air to catch it, with no indication of what they all supposedly had on beneath their shorts. The back had a diagram, going into capacities and components and all that, but still didn't show the garments themselves.

She had to admit, there was a part of her that was curious, that wanted to see what they looked like in real life, not just in the also fairly generic commercials, where there were a couple quick flashes, and a lot of claims that may or may not hold up. It wasn't because she wanted to wear them, obviously... She'd be barely better than a baby if that was the case. After hearing so much about them, however, she wanted to see how truthful the advertising really was. And, if she could make Heather happy, that was a nice bonus.

She'd nibbled her bottom lip as she carefully ripped open the top panel, flinching slightly as her finger punched through, brushed against the contents inside. They didn't feel like plastic, at least... They also didn't feel like cloth, exactly, more like an artificial attempt to replicate it, to seem more like they could have been panties... Until you got too close, heard the slight rustle they made. Not as bad as a diaper, by any means... But no panties Lizzie had ever seen sounded like that.

As promised, the designs were restrained, no cartoon characters, or cute baby animals... She wasn't sure they were things that she'd want on her own underwear as an adult, though she had seen pairs in the store that were similar, with stripes, and flowers, and colored shapes... The one she pulled out was pink with black polka-dots, simple and conservative... She'd definitely had panties like that at one time, when she was younger, but that was from before she was shopping for her own underthings. Which was, to be fair, why she steered away from them now, typically.

It was odd, feeling disappointed when she saw how few of the training pants were in the box. It was designed to make it look like there were far more, with dividers in between each pair, making the packaging wider than it really had to be. Of course, the outside of the packaging said that there were only six of them, but it was printed so small, Lizzie didn't notice until after she'd seen that for herself.

Was it to give littles who managed to buy them a false sense of security, thinking they'd have at least twice as many, just to discover the truth after they were home from what was certain to be a harrowing purchasing experience? Was it to make it that much harder for them to try to shoplift the package, or even to simply carry it up to the checkout lane without anyone noticing what it was? Was it to appease Amazons, who might not consider buying them for any littles they were 'looking after' until they saw how few there were?

She could see how it would be useful... "All right," they could say, "I'll give you one last chance... But if your little issue hasn't gotten any better before you get through this whole package, it's back to diapers for you." Lizzie could see almost anyone who didn't know any better falling for that, assuming there were a dozen, or more, trainers in there, giving them more than enough time... When, in reality, even if they went through just one a day, they had less than a week.

She took pictures to post online, as a warning, although she was obviously going to have to do that anonymously, and, preferably, from somewhere other than her apartment. She didn't want to advertise to anyone that she had bought training pants, no matter what kind they were... Part of her regretted using her own credit card for it, worried that, somehow, the credit card company would see what her purchase had been for, and sell her out to advertisers, leading to her mailbox filling up with spam offering to help her control her incontinence...

Then, she'd set the trainers down, and went to work looking for an outfit. They weren't going anywhere too fancy, which almost made it harder... How much did she want to dress up? She didn't want to overdo it, and get to the restaurant to find Heather wearing something way more casual... On the other hand, she didn't want the opposite, either, probably even more-so. They were definitely going to get questions - or assumptions - about Heather being Lizzie's Mommy, and if Heather was dressed nicely, and Lizzie was in an old t-shirt and some beat-up jeans, she was absolutely going to look the part.

She settled on a dress, pink to match the training panties - not the plan, and, in fact, nearly enough to make her change her mind when she saw how close the shades were - more than long enough to keep what she was hiding underneath covered, unless the wind really got bad, or she, for some reason, decided to do cartwheels in the middle of the meal.

She wanted to wear heels, but, after what had happened in the bar, she decided against them. She looked for some nice flats, before realizing all the ones she had looked too much like Mary Janes for her comfort and resigning herself to a pair of her newer, nicer sneakers. She put those on first, twirling slightly in the mirror, frustrated that, even though she'd been intentionally trying to avoid it, she looked like a little girl about to be taken out to dinner by her mother.

That was going to have to be good enough, unfortunately, because she'd taken too much time already, hesitating over opening up the training pants, picking out her clothes... And she still had the most difficult part left to go.

She groaned, turning to look at the trainers, sitting on her bed, waiting. As silly as it was, as much as she knew this was her decision, that, if she wanted, she could change her mind at any time - whereas, if someone was making her do it, she probably couldn't talk her way out of it - she found herself stomping her foot, whining to herself.

They were so small... Just like the commercials said, nobody was going to have to know except her. Of course, there was one other person who would, since that was the whole reason she was doing it, but, besides Heather, there was no reason anyone else would guess, unless they listened super closely to her while she walked.

But still... It felt like a betrayal, of herself, of her people, voluntarily choosing to do this, to put these things on, to go out in public with them, with an Amazon... An Amazon who hadn't forced her to do this, or even suggested it, though Lizzie knew it was what she wanted. Heather had helped her out so much, and hadn't abused her trust, despite how easy it would have been to do, and how few people would have stopped her, or judged her, for it...

This was a 'thank you', as weird a form as it took. She didn't owe this to Heather... But it was a nice thing to do, after all the trouble she'd put her through, and how nice she'd been... Wearing it didn't mean anything. She didn't have to use it, wasn't planning on using it... Functionally, they were slightly thicker panties, that was all...

'Just put them on!' one side of her brain was shouting at her, while the other side was still stomping its feet, throwing a tantrum that, if she was doing it in public, probably would have landed her in something far worse, and thicker. She was wasting time... She wanted to show up to the restaurant early enough to stake out the parking lot, to keep an eye out for Heather's arrival and accompany her in.

She'd spent a lot of - likely too much - time debating the best strategy, and decided doing it that way, and pretending it was a crazy coincidence that she'd arrived only a few seconds before Heather, was the winner. If she arrived too early, she'd either have to wait in the seating area, where she could be swept out the door, or lumped into someone else's party, easily, or sit by herself until Heather got there, leaving an opening for another Amazon to slide into the seat opposite her... Or, if she was fashionably late, the hostess, while taking her back to find Heather, could make a mistake, see a table with an empty high chair, and assume that was where Lizzie was supposed to be...

Maybe she was over-thinking it, being too paranoid... That was part of the reason she was still on her own, however, still allowed to wear the grown-up underwear she deserved... Except that, obviously, she was about to give that up, if just for one evening. No matter how thin the trainers were, it was an extra, unnecessary danger... In any of those scenarios, she could try to argue that the other people were wrong, that she was an adult who didn't need their help... All it would take was one flip of her skirt to prove, at least to them, that she was nothing but a silly little girl who didn't know any better, even if she was dry.

"That's not going to happen," she told herself, hands shaking as she picking the trainers up again, opening them up, unfolding them, shaking them out, shivering as they crinkled, seemingly much louder now. It was her imagination, or the natural consequence of them being in motion, as opposed to her simply squeezing them a bit. They'd be fine once they were on, and under her dress... Right?

She slipped them over her feet, slowly pulling them up her legs, letting them snap into place, instantly feeling how wrong she'd been, assuming they wouldn't be that different... There was a definite stiffness to them that she didn't get from her panties, and, while the bulk wasn't that obvious when they were sitting in the pack, or on her bed, now that it was wrapped around her waist, it was impossible to escape. It felt like she was wearing a whole pack of her normal undies at once, with a plastic bag stuffed in between two of the layers.

She smoothed the skirt of her dress down, pouting even though she didn't see any bulge, any hint that there was anything unusual going on there. If she was being objective, she'd have had to admit, from the outside, nothing was different; in the moment, she wasn't capable of that, however. "I look like a baby!" she pouted, the expression just adding to it as she tugged at her skirt, cheeks darkening to match her dress... And the padding underneath. 

Everyone was going to know... As soon as she walked out of her apartment, all her neighbors would be able to tell, and they'd never look at her the same again. She'd be lucky to make it all the way into the restaurant without being snatched off the street, forcefully adopted... This was the stupidest idea she'd ever had!

"I can't," she shook her head, trying to remember where she'd left her phone, finally spotting it on her bedside table. She crawled up onto the bed, blushing harder and harder as she heard the trainers, crinkling away as she crept up the middle of her mattress, turning to look at them and seeing herself in the mirror, catching a glimpse of the childish things under her skirt.

She squeaked, sitting down as soon as she'd grabbed her phone, legs folded under her, although that let her feel the padding cradling her bottom from the inside and out, the garment sandwiched between two parts of her body, making her so much more aware of it, of how big and poofy and humiliating it was...

She was already formulating the message she was going to send to Heather, apologizing for the late notice, promising that she really did want to do this, and it just needed to be re-scheduled... There was no way she was going to be in the right headspace for it tonight, so it would be better to call it a night, get out of these things, and try again whenever they were both free next. Hopefully, by then, Lizzie would have figured out something else she could do for Heather, something that didn't involve these things...

Apparently, at some point, either when she was taking a shower, or getting dressed, she'd missed a text. She saw Heather's name on the notification, her heartbeat speeding up a bit more, as if the panic wasn't doing that enough. What had she said? Had something come up at work? Had Lizzie been saved from finding a way out of it herself?

'Can't wait to see you tonight!' it said. 'It's been too long!'

Lizzie stared at it, biting her bottom lip. She glanced over at the mirror again, adjusting her skirt. It wasn't that bad, she thought... If she took a second to calm down, so long as she didn't have to get down on all fours for some reason, it looked fine... 

'Me, too!' Lizzie replied. 'Almost time!'

She paused a moment, finger over the send button, then pushed it, hopping off her bed, walking as normally as she could back to the mirror. She thought her gait was off slightly, that the size of the trainers were forcing a waddle... She had a feeling she was the only one who would notice, however, if it was even true in the first place.

"It's good," she told herself. "It's all good."

That wasn't completely true, though... Her little freak-out had lasted long enough to make her late. Not for the date, but to wait in the parking lot, spotting Heather's car almost as soon as she pulled in, sitting there, empty. She pulled into an empty space, squirming, training pants crackling away in the enclosed area of her own car. 

Maybe Heather had gotten a table near the front, she thought, and they'd find her before anyone else, that might have ulterior motives. It didn't look too busy yet... And, if she was being honest, her nightmare scenario required a very specific set of circumstances, a table with multiple Amazons, one of which would have taken whoever was originally seated in the high chair to the bathroom to clean them up, or change their diaper, while the other was eager enough for another little to lie to the hostess... It wasn't impossible, and she had no doubt that somewhere in this world, it had happened... The chances of it happening to her, today, weren't all that high, though.

As she got out of her car, however, and peered into the dining room through the windows to see if she could spot Heather, to make the search all the shorter and easier, she saw that it might not be all that crazy after all. She couldn't hear anything from this far away, but she could see a pair of Amazons, playfully speaking to one another while a little sat in her high chair, bib, and shortalls underneath, covered in pasta sauce, arms folded sulkily. After a few seconds, the male Amazon stood up, unlatching the tray of the high chair and picking the girl up, the diaper bulge beneath her clothes incredibly obvious, and quite lumpy in the rear.

Lizzie didn't realize she was staring, or that she'd stopped, until the Amazon woman spotted her, gave her a friendly wave. Lizzie blushed, turned away, hurrying for the front door, the paranoia returning. What if she'd been wrong? What if it was another car that looked like Heather's, and she wasn't there yet? If that Amazon saw her, looking around for someone who wasn't there, would she take 'pity' on her and let her sit with her family, whether she wanted to or not? Would Lizzie get any choice in the matter, or would the hostess be satisfied with that, glad to not have to worry about a little wandering around the dining room unattended?

She was starting to feel like this was a big mistake again as she pushed open the front door and stepped inside. Her stomach lurched, seeing that the hostess was a 'tweener. It was unfair, subjecting them to stereotypes when she spent so much time fretting that people were reducing her to them herself, but she'd have felt safer with an Amazon... At least an Amazon might be more concerned with being certain she was at the right table before leaving her. She leaned forward to peek at the tables close to the front, in case Heather was seated there, where she wouldn't have been able to see her from the windows...

"Hey, Lizzie!"

She jumped, spun around, cheeks blazing, to see Heather standing up from a bench by the door, one Lizzie had apparently walked by, completely oblivious. "H-Hi!" she stammered, hands automatically moving to her dress, fussing with the skirt, even though there was no reason to think anything would have happened to leave her trainers exposed.

"I wasn't sure if you'd want a booth or a table, so I figured I might as well wait for you to show up," Heather smiled. "We're ready to be seated now," she told the hostess.

"Of course," the girl nodded, picking up a pair of menus. "Right this way."

"So?" Heather said, ushering Lizzie ahead of her. "What do you think?"

As it had been, to some degree, since putting them on, Lizzie's mind was on her training pants, prompting another, deeper blush. "H-Huh? I-I don't... I-It isn't..."

"Where do you want to sit?" Heather tried instead. "We have plenty of options."

"O-Oh, right," Lizzie chuckled. "Over there?"

She pointed to a small booth, fairly close to the restrooms, although she didn't notice that until they were almost there. Would the hostess think she'd picked it to give herself the best possible chance of making it there, if she had to go? Did Heather? 

"Thank you," Heather told the hostess, sitting on one of the benches. 

"Th-Thanks," Lizzie echoed, not wanting to seem difficult by changing her mind now. "Th-This place looks nice..."

"It's one of my favorites," Heather said. "How have you been?"

Lizzie wriggled in her seat, wanting so badly, now that they were relatively alone, to give away her secret, to tell Heather what she'd done for her... But she could feel the gaze of the other Amazon woman on her, and, even half a dining room away, she was afraid that, somehow, she was going to overhear, to know.

"O-Oh, you know," she forced a chuckle, pressing her legs together, wrinkling her nose at the still unfamiliar bulk there. "S-Same old, same old..."