You Can Always Go Home Again, Part 2 of 2 (Tier 3 Exclusive) (Patreon)

Thursday

I woke up earlier than I expected to. Early enough that it was still dark out. I hoped that if I closed my eyes, I’d go back to sleep again, but instead I just laid on my back staring at the ceiling for the next hour.

There was no shortage of things to think about. Diapers. Emmy. Betsy. The inevitability of going back to London and leaving all of this behind again. Emmy, again.

I looked around, taking in the room in the dim morning light. It was the first time I had really thought about this room much at all. It used to be–still was, technically–my bedroom. When I moved out, I had put most of the things I wanted to keep in the basement, giving Judy my blessing to repurpose this room. It had become a generic guest room since, though most of the furniture was where I left it. It both did and didn’t feel like my old room. I imagined it if all my things were still here, like Emmy’s room currently. A Radiohead poster over there. My TV and Playstation. My stereo with the cassette player that didn’t work.

For a long time, I had kept a diaper under the bed. The one I tried to ‘practice’ wetting myself in. The one with makeshift duct-tape tabs. I tried to recall what happened to it. Did I throw it out? Is it in a box of my things in the basement? Had I left it under the bed? Maybe Judy found it one day after I had moved out. Maybe it was still under the bed now.

I pushed the thought from my mind. More pressing thoughts were taking precedence.

I could feel the familiar pang of my bladder’s morning ache. Emmy had been sure to put me in a clean diaper before we went to our separate bedrooms last night. The thick Huggable had been a welcome sensation between my legs as I slowly came to.

But diapers were meant to be used, Emmy would say. Betsy wanted to wet her diapers, and so I did. Laying on my back, in bed, my legs slowly spread apart as I felt the warmth spread out from the front of the diaper. It was a sensation I couldn’t recall ever feeling before. I had never slept in a diaper before. I had never wet a diaper in bed.

Emmy was going to be quite pleased with this.

I heard movement from the otherside of the bedroom door. Judy, likely, getting ready for work. It was no wonder that she didn’t hear the two of us the night before. I didn’t think we were excessively loud, but…there was a lot of crinkling. Moaning, maybe.

Growing up in one house, you pick up on things. Small things. Even with my door closed, I could make out the faint noises of Judy’s every move. Her steps into the bathroom. The running of water. Her walking downstairs. The jingle of her keys being taken off the hook by the front door. The sound of the front door closing. The sound of her car starting up and pulling out of the driveway.

Fuck it, I wasn’t going to wait for Emmy this morning. I slid out of bed. I was wearing only a diaper, and I paused to consider whether or not I should put something else on. Emmy’s dress–Betsy’s dress now–had been stashed in my dresser, but it felt gauche to wear it for the second day in a row. And I certainly wasn’t going to wear boy clothes.

Just a diaper, then.

I scrambled out from my room and across the hall to her room. To my surprise, she was still sleeping in her bed. Just a day before she had woken me up bright and early, suggesting that she didn’t want to waste any of the day we had together. The temptation was strong to shake her out of her sleep. Maybe I’d even plant my soaking wet diaper on her face. Now that would be some way to wake up.

Instead, I carefully lifted her blankets and slipped into her bed next to her. I cuddled against her, pressing my warm diaper against her.

“Mmm,” she moaned softly. “Do I have a visitor?”

“Hi.”

“I’m sleeping.”

“I’m not stopping you.”

“You’re very…warm.”

I giggled a little–something I almost never did. A girlish little “tee hee” as I pressed myself against her.

“Did you have an accident, Betsy?”

“Maybe.”

She laughed to herself, but said nothing else. She rolled over on her opposite side, but then motioned for me to do the same. Soon, she was spooning me and we stayed like that for the next half hour or so. I could’ve fallen asleep again in that position, if I wanted to, but as her arms draped over my body, I knew that I couldn’t let a moment of this be forgotten. I wanted to be here forever.

“You’ve got a little more spunk today,” she finally said, whispering it into my ear.

“You think so?”

“Yesterday you were so…reactionary. Like a little doll that I just posed and played with. Don’t get me wrong, I loved it. But now you’re in my bed, waking me up with your soggy diaper?”

“I guess I’m in a good mood.”

“Yeah? Why do you think that is?”

“I’m not sure there’s enough time in the day to list all the reasons.”

“Try.”

I laughed. “Well, uhm… I’m in a diaper.”

“You like that, huh?”

I nodded. “Very much so. This particular diaper, really.”

“Because it’s so big and babyish? Or because you did such a babyish thing and wet it?”

“Both.”

“What else?”

“I’m in bed with you.”

“Naughty,” she said. “Scandalous, even.”

“That’s not why I like it.”

“But it doesn’t hurt, right?”

“N-no…”

“What else?” she asked, her fingers slowly running down my chest.

“Last night.”

“Oh? Did you have a good time last night?”

“Mmmhmm.”

“What happened last night?”

“You…kissed me.”

“And you kissed me,” she said. Her fingers had reached my damp diaper. She poked and gently squeezed at the saturated padding between my legs.

“We kissed a lot.”

She slowly massaged the front of my swollen diaper. I wasn’t far from being hard before, but the pressure of her hand quickly woke me to a completely stiff status. I thought of the night before, when her hand was inside my diaper. It had only been there for a moment–a tease. With how quickly she had pulled her hand back out, I was tempted to think she had second thoughts. Yet, given the fact that we kissed for so long after, and given that she had playfully tugged at my manhood later when she changed me into the fresh diaper, that seemed unlikely.

She had been playing with me. She was taking her time and working me up.

I groaned as her fingers took a tighter grip on my shaft through the diaper.

“Do you like that?”

“Y-yes.”

“We’ve never done this before, have we?” she asked.

“No…”

“But we wanted to, I think. That tension was always there. I’m not the only one who thought that, right?”

“No,” I said. “I felt it too.”

“But we were such good girls. We never gave into that.”

I nodded my head. It was getting harder to speak–her hand was doing amazing things to me through the diaper.

Her voice dropped to a sultry whisper as she leaned closer to my ear: “I’m not going to be a good girl anymore.”

“Unh,” I moaned, quickly followed by an even more humiliating: “Unnnnnnh…”

She had successfully milked me, squeezing every drop of my naughty juices into the already wet diaper. Her hand remained on the damp padding as I recovered, moaning and twitching.

“I think we can start our day now,” she chirped. “Don’t you?”

—

I was sitting on the floor, my legs splayed out before me. A clean diaper. Emmy insisted on putting the dress back on me. My pacifier was back in my mouth, and I had already grown accustomed to its soothing presence.

The TV in front of me was on, playing some children’s show. I couldn’t even say what it was; animated puppies ran around a town while somehow teaching the alphabet. The show, itself, wasn’t important. I was sitting like a child, in a diaper, watching a children’s TV show while Emmy ‘prepared’ lunch–that was what was important.

“Hungry?” she cooed from the kitchen.

I sighed, nervous about what she was going to subject me to. I wanted to trust her–she had given me no reason not to up until this point. But I imagined an open jar of some putrid babyfood. It wouldn’t have been the first time that happened–I could recall the early days of Betsy, sitting on her lap while she fed me tiny spoonfuls of mushy carrots.

But I was trying something new today. Yesterday I had been a tourist in Betsy’s world, getting reacquainted with how she lived. Today, I was Betsy. And Betsy was very thankful that her big sister was making her lunch.

“Yeah-huh,” I finally responded.

“Excellent,” she said. “I have quite the treat for you.”

She sat down next to me, laying out everything she had brought with her. A plastic plate with a handful of chicken nuggets on it. A little knife and fork. My old sippy cup filled with an amber liquid.

Maybe they were just obvious choices for feeding a little girl, but for many years of my childhood I had almost lived entirely off of chicken nuggets. I was thankful that I had outgrown that picky-eater phase, but nuggets never stopped being the ultimate comfort food for me. They were yet another thing I had gone without in London. Maybe they just weren’t as good there; though I think the most likely answer was that I, a 26-year old man, didn’t want to be seen eating children’s food.

Betsy, on the other hand, had no qualms about eating chicken nuggets. I reached towards the plate to grab one, only to have my hand swatted away by Emmy.

“I don’t want you choking on these,” she said. “I’ll just have to cut them up and feed them to you.”

“But…” I stopped myself. She was right: Betsy needed help with her meals.

Emmy smiled as she methodically cut each nugget into smaller bite-sized pieces. I suspected that I could probably devour an entire nugget at once without issue, and so it was a little embarrassing to see her cut each in half. More so when she then split each of those halves again.

Again, I was tempted to remind her that she didn’t need to do that. But of course she did. This, this embarrassment, was exactly what she wanted me to feel. And it was exactly what I wanted to feel.

“Here,” she said, guiding a small chunk of chicken to my mouth with the tiny fork. “Eat up, Betsy.”

She fed me the entire plate, one little morsel at a time. Every so often, she’d hand me the sippy cup so I could take a swig of apple juice.

“I had an idea,” she said, as she slipped another bite into my mouth.

I was already nervous. Rarely did a good wholesome time start with the phrase ‘I have an idea.’

“Okay?”

“Do you want to go out tonight?”

“Out?”

“Yeah. We’ll get out of here. Hit up the town. Get into some trouble or something.”

“Trouble? We’re getting into plenty of trouble here as it is.”

“You want to be cooped up in this house all week?” she asked.

“You keep feeding me and changing my diapers, I’d stay cooped up in this house for a year.”

“C’mon,” she said. “Don’t be a party pooper.”

“But…”

“I know, I know,” she said, reading my mind. “You’re wearing a diaper. You can poop whenever you want to. But it’ll be fun to go out. I promise.”

“Do you want to go out with…Ben? Or Betsy?”

“I don’t care who it is,” she said. “So long as they’re in a diaper.”

“Really? I have to?”

“Don’t want any accidents, do we?”

“But I…”

“Did you, or did you not, come crawling into my bed this morning with a soggy diaper on?”

“Well…”

“I rest my case.”

“Fine,” I said.

“I like how you play it off as this thing you’d do just to appease me,” she said with a smirk. “You can’t really expect me to believe that you don’t want to go out in a diaper, right? You love it.”

I felt my cheeks warm and I couldn’t help but laugh. “You don’t know that.”

“You don’t think I know my little sister? Need I remind you that I created my little sister?”

“Fine,” I said once more, smiling this time. “Maybe you’re right.”

—

We left town entirely. Maybe we were being extra-cautious, but that seemed like the smart move.

Of course, that yielded the question: Why did we feel we needed to be extra-cautious? It might have been the diapers, but that was doubtful. For as large and crinkly as the diapers were, I still felt pretty confident that we weren’t going to cause a bunch of strangers to suddenly suspect that I was a big baby.

The answer dawned on me as we drove down the highway. Emmy drove, but her hand had reached across the middle console to my lap where she gently pawed at my diaper. The bigger risk, it seemed, was someone in town seeing us together–and seeing how we were interacting with each other. I could just imagine word getting back to Judy that the two of us were spotted, hands all over each other.

“Do you drive a lot in London?” she asked.

“No. I pretty much take public transportation anywhere I can’t walk to.”

“The tube,” she said in a mock-accent.

“You watch too much TV.”

“Why didn’t you come back with an accent?” she asked. “That’d have been cute.”

“I’ll work on that when I go back.”

“Ugh,” she groaned.

“What?”

“You have to go back. That sucks.”

“I mean, I live there. I work there. I kinda have to go back at some point.”

“I’m going to miss you.”

“I’m here now.”

“I know, I know.”

“I can make an effort to come home more often,” I said.

“Yeah, you better. Or I’ll go out there and get you myself.”

“That doesn’t sound so bad.”

We have no plan, and I’m worried that we’re going to end up endlessly driving around all night. Thankfully, Emmy is a decision-maker, and her eyes light up when she a small hole-in-the-wall tavern just off the highway.

“Let’s get a drink.”

It shouldn’t be crowded, given that it’s a little off the beaten path and it’s not the weekend. Yet there’s a surprising number of patrons here–a good mix of sports enthusiasts watching a basketball game, and post-work drinkers in need of a pick-me-up. Far from crowded, but just enough people to trigger some anxiety. More ears to potentially pick up the sound of crinkling.

Emmy ordered us some drinks. Some clear cocktail over ice for herself, and a beer for me. I was tempted to ask what she got me, but I let it go. I liked the feeling of her making that sort of decision for me. We found a table in a quieter section of the bar and sat down.

“No girlfriends?” she asked.

I shrugged. “Not really.”

“I’m not sure what that means.”

“I was seeing a girl for a while,” I said. “But it was kind of a…friends with benefits sort of thing?”

“Did you like that?”

“I thought we were dating,” I said, laughing. “Then she told me that she just wanted to fuck.”

“So what did you do then?”

“I kept fucking her.” We both laughed. “What about you? What was the deal with Kyle?”

She shrugged. “We weren’t all that compatible. I think I fell in love with the idea of a big serious relationship. I wanted to move out and be in love and work towards all those big adult things. So I kind of glazed over the fact that he had all the personality of a cardboard box.”

“He seemed nice,” I said.

“He was nice, sure. But not exciting.”

“Is that what you want?” I asked. “Excitement?”

“Yes.”

“What’s exciting to you?”

“Men willing to get dressed up like a baby girl. Men willing to use a diaper. Men willing to wear my panties.”

“People would probably frown at our getting married,” I joked.

“I don’t know what I really want anymore,” she said, sighing. “I feel like a loser sometimes.”

“A loser? You?”

“I’m 25 and I live with my mother. I’ve graduated college, but I still work at the same office I was working at while I was still taking classes. Meanwhile, look at you.”

“Look at me? You think I am successful?”

“You moved away. You got out of the country. You have a career!”

“I picked up my stuff and ran out of the country to escape the fact that my Dad died and my birth-mother didn’t want to be around me,” I said. I live in an apartment the size of a shoebox. I have a job, sure, but I could probably have an even better job in the States–not to mention a better apartment–if I just came back home. I’m no more together than you are.”

She took a deep breath and then swallowed a good portion of her cocktail. “Thank you. I needed to hear that.”

“And I needed to say that.”

She laughed and quickly changed the subject: “How many more beers do I need to buy you for you to wet your diaper?”

“More would help. But…I’d probably be able to do it without any additional help.”

“You’re such a baby.”

“Should I wet myself like one?”

“Surprise me,” she said. “I’ll check in a little bit and see what I find.”

My eyes scanned the bar again–a paranoid little habit that came from the extra bulk in my pants. Everyone was minding their business. Of course they were.

Except for one guy. He was watching us from the bar. No–he was watching Emmy.

“Heads up,” I said in a hushed tone. “Guy to your left at the bar is undressing you with his eyes.”

I imagined that she’d do a subtle turn of her head and pretend to scan the room herself. Instead she sharply turned to face the man, staring directly at him. He was a young guy with a boyish, naive, face.

“What do you think?” she asked. “Should we have some fun?”

“Fun?”

To my surprise, and horror, she waved to the man. “Hi.”

For a moment, the man glanced around awkwardly in a ‘Who? Me?’ sort of act. He quickly spun around on his stool, looking anywhere but in our direction.

“Aw damn,” she said.

“What, exactly, were you hoping to have happen?”

“I hadn’t thought that far ahead,” she giggled. “Maybe he’d have come over and I’d have flirted with him a little. And then I’d have pointed out that you were not my boyfriend, but my little sister. And he’d, of course, be really confused by that. And I’d have to show him your diaper.”

“You think I’d have gone for that?”

“Yes,” she said. “I do. Because you love being a little girl, and the idea of getting caught by a stranger in your diapers is very exciting for you.”

I laughed. “I wish you were wrong. But you’re not.”

“Finish your drink. We’ve got another stop to make.”

“Where now?” I asked.

“We’re going to make you a memory. A little something you can take home with you and think about later.”

“You don’t think my trip back hasn’t had enough of those so far?”

“Just finish your beer, little girl.”

—

The concept of humiliation was baked into everything Emmy and I had ever done together. It was so fundamental in the creation of Betsy, in fact, that I often forgot it was there at all. It was never a mean-spirited sort of humiliation–it was a thrilling and playful shove into spaces I wouldn’t have allowed myself to go otherwise.

She was a mad scientist in the Laboratory of Humiliation. She’d stumble onto a successful formula, but she wouldn’t be able to leave well enough alone. She needed to tweak it. Expand it. Change the variables. It kept me perpetually nervous, even if she had yet to lead me to disaster.

“Really?” I asked, as she pulled into the parking lot of the big-box department store.

“What? We need to pick up something.”

“Like what?”

“Come on, let’s go in,” she said with a smirk.

No sooner than I had closed the car door, I found her waiting for me with her outstretched hand waiting for mine. I took it, feeling my face burn a little as I had. She led me into the store by the hand.

“Stick by my side, little girl,” she said playfully.

In a store like this, which sold just about everything, the possibilities seemed endless. As we walked through the store, I tried to predict where she was leading me. I saw the baby section approaching and my heart raced quickly, yet we just walked right past it.

“Did you think I was going to get something babyish?”

“I assumed…”

“This is even better,” she said.

Ahead of us now was women’s clothing. I swallowed hard. “Are you…getting me a new outfit?”

“You’re in desperate need of some more clothes,” she said. “If you were staying longer, I’d say we get Betsy an entire new wardrobe. But seeing as you’re leaving in a day or two, maybe we’ll just start small.”

I had no idea what ‘start small’ meant, but as we approached the lingerie section, I began to suspect that I might have an inkling of an idea.

“You can’t be serious,” I said.

“You know what you’ve never done?”

“Probably a lot of things…”

“You haven’t worn panties over your diaper before.”

“Oh.”

“And, honestly, I think you should. It’d be a good look for you.”

“I…I guess.”

“Usually, little girls need to earn panties, right? They have to prove that they’re big girls and that they aren’t going to have accidents in their pants anymore. But I’m just not sure that you’re ever going to grow out of that habit.”

I felt my lips curl up into a pout. “I’ve only ever worn, and used, diapers because you wanted me to. It’s not like I have actual accidents in my pants.”

She stopped, pulling me to a stop as well. “Shall we take a look?” she asked.

“What? Right here? Right now?”

She didn’t answer that question, nor did she have to. Of course she was going to check my diaper in the middle of the store. And of course I was going to let her. I had expected her to tug open the waistband of my pants to peer in at the status of my diaper–a little stunt she used to use. Instead, with a hand on either side of my pants, she gave a firm downwards tug, pulling my pants right down to my knees so that my diaper–my very wet diaper–was on display.

“Emmy! Hey! Y-you can’t just…” I quickly grabbed my pants and pulled them back up over my diaper.

Meanwhile, her hands were clutched at her face as she laughed uncontrollably. “I’m sorry,” she said. “I couldn’t help myself!”

I quickly looked in every direction to see if anyone had witnessed that little incident, but it seemed that the coast was clear.

“For the record,” she continued, “those diapers are soaked. See? This is why you’re in diapers.”

I huffed, shaking my head at her. My heart was beating out of my chest, but I quickly realized that I was far more excited than I was humiliated. Or, perhaps, excited by being so humiliated.

“Panties,” she said. “We need to find some for your diaper.”

“D-don’t say that word so loud,” I pleaded, looking around again.

“Which one? Panties? Or diaper?” Her voice hadn’t lowered even a smidge.

“Ugh, you’re the worst.”

She grabbed my hand, pulling me towards the racks of panties. “Come on, Betsy, we need to find you something.”

It was hard to say what she was looking for. She flipped through pairs of panties, quickly vetoing almost every pair she found.

“What, exactly, are you looking for?” I asked.

“Well, we need something that will fit over your big diaper. But it has to be cute too, you know?”

I shrugged, sorting through some panties myself. It felt especially naughty, touching all these undergarments. Regardless of what I actually was, I felt like an imposter. Women would show up here later, picking out things for themselves without any idea that some diaper-wearing pretender had touched the same panties.

“These,” she said, suddenly thrusting a pair into my hands. “I think these might be what we’re looking for.”

Lavender, with the word “Princess” laid out across the ass in glittery silver letters. They were humiliating to even look at. Therefore, perfect.

“Yeah, okay,” I said.

“But let’s just make sure,” Emmy said.

“Make sure? Make sure of what?”

“We should have you try them on.”

“I don’t think you can try these on…”

“Let’s ask.”

My face went white. “Ask?”

She pointed to an associate, a middle-aged woman a few aisles from where we were, tidying up the racks of clothing. “We’ll ask her.”

“I…I don’t think I could do that.”

She took me by the hand again and began to pull me towards the woman. “You’ll be amazed at what you can actually do.”

“Excuse me,” Emmy said, drawing the attention of the employee. “My sister has a question for you.”

The woman scratched her head as she looked at me. “Uh, sure, okay. What can I help you with?”

“Go on,” Emmy said to me with a wide smile on her face. “Ask your question.”

“I was just wondering if I could…uhm…”

The woman looked back to Emmy, as if to say ‘I probably don’t have all night for this.’

“Betsy, spit it out!”

The woman’s eyes were back on me again, once more looking a little perplexed.

“Could I try these on?” I finally asked, holding the panties out in front of me.

The woman took a moment to reassess the situation again. I watched her eyes jumping back and forth. Young woman. Young man. Panties. He wants to…try the panties on? To her credit, she kept her cool.

“Well, it’s against store policy to allow people to try on undergarments,” she said. “It’s, uhm, nothing personal. Just a health code thing.”

Nothing personal. It made the statement feel more personal than if she hadn’t said that at all.

“Well, maybe you should explain why you want to try them on,” Emmy said to me, grinning. She was so cavalier about it all. Unflappable. Was it bravery or did she just not care? Either way, I was jealous.

“I…” I laughed. I shouldn’t have laughed. I actually kind of surprised myself by laughing. But looking at Emmy’s face again, she seemed to transfer some of her mojo to me. This moment didn’t matter. We’d laugh about this later. I’d probably stroke my cock to it later. “I…need to know if these panties would fit over my diaper.”

“I’m sorry,” the woman said. “Fit over your what?”

“Diapers,” Emmy said. “Like, things a baby pees and poops in? My little sister wears diapers and we want to be sure that she can wear these panties over top of her diapers.”

The woman looked back at me, seeming to look me over from head to toe. Trying to see if she could spot my diapers? Trying to get a better handle on who she was dealing with?

“It doesn’t really matter why you want to try them on,” the employee finally said. “That’s just the policy. I don’t make the policy.”

On one hand, I totally felt for this woman. She probably wasn’t making a lot of money and she had to deal with weirdos like us. On the other, I was riding a high right now–powered by Emmy and diapers. I wanted the entire world to know I was a little diaper-wearing princess, starting with this random stranger.

“I’m sure the panties will be fine,” I said. I meant to say that to Emmy, but I was looking at the woman.

“Okay…” she replied.

“Have a good night,” Emmy said to her. We began to briskly walk away from her.

“Do you really wear diapers?” the woman asked behind us.

“Is that so hard to believe?” Emmy said, stopping and turning around.

The woman shrugged. “That’s just…different, I guess.”

Emmy looked back at me and smiled before glancing back at the woman again. “Want to see?”

The woman looked around the area quickly. Satisfied we were essentially alone, she nodded.

—

“Holy shit,” I exclaimed as we got back into Emmy’s car. I didn’t walk across the parking lot so much as I had floated across it.

“Spontaneity looks good on you,” Emmy said, leaning across the car to kiss me. I kissed her back, and her lips were like a roadmap of our evening. Lip gloss, alcohol, and traces of the mint gum she was chewing when we pulled up to the store’s parking lot.

“What now?”

She tapped the dashboard’s clock. “It’s almost 10.”

“Is your car going to turn into a pumpkin soon?”

She laughed. “It’s going to take us about an hour to get home. I’m not saying we have to go home. I’m just saying we need to keep that in mind.”

“Home,” I repeated with a disgruntled huff.

“You don’t like home?”

“No, it’s not that. It’s just that…home is where we have to do all of our pretending. I mean…I know I’m not actually Betsy. And I’m not, like, dressed up like her right now or anything. But being out with you tonight, and being free about who I want to be and what I want to do…it feels really liberating.”

“Well we’re not home yet. Oh, and you have to put your panties on!”

My eyes lit up and I immediately started unbuckling my pants. She helped me, and we pushed the pants down my legs, kicking them off entirely into a heap on the floor of the car. Then I stepped into the new panties, pulling them up my wiggling body until they made it over my diapers. They did just about nothing to conceal the padding underneath, but they did fit over it. It seemed better this way.

“That is so fucking cute,” Emmy said.

I felt myself pout. “Not hot?”

“Hot?” She laughed. “No, baby girl, I’m sorry to say. Cute. Just completely and utterly adorable.”

“Hrm.”

“But I think that’s perfect.”

Her hand was on my swollen diaper again, stroking the thick padding and summoning my cock to life.

“Fuck,” I muttered.

“Naughty language, Betsy! I’m supposed to be a positive influence on you. Teach you not to use words like that.”

“Is this a ‘positive influence?’” I asked, motioning down to where her hand was rubbing my diaper.

“It feels positive, doesn’t it?”

I couldn’t argue with that.

“Maybe we change your diaper before we go home,” she said.

“You think? Where?”

“Here?”

“In the car.”

She shrugged. “I see no reason why not. Get in the backseat.”

Tonight’s best moments were the ones where I shut my mind off and let Betsy take hold of the figurative wheel. I took a look around the parking lot. We were in a quieter section of it. A few cars came and went from the lot, yet they all seemed miles away. The world at large seemed miles away.

“I…I need my diaper changed,” I said.

“Yeah?” she asked. “You dirtied another diaper, didn’t you, Betsy?”

I nodded.

I was suddenly in the backseat, and my new panties were around my ankles, holding my legs together like cuffs. She was standing outside of the car, leaning in through the open door, pulling the soaked diaper out from under me. Her big purse was opened up, revealing all the things she thought to bring with her. She pressed my pacifier into my mouth. Moist wipes slowly ran across my skin–she seemed to take extra care in cleaning off my stiff manhood.

“If you lived here,” she said, “just think of all the things we could do.”

My brain was lost in ecstasy and I was in no condition to think of the possibilities. “Tell me?”

One of her fingers poked at my tight asshole, just the very tip of it entering me. I let out a long soft moan. “Anything we wanted. Things not yet explored.”

I wanted to tell her that I’d stay. I wanted to tell her that I would never leave again and that we could stay like this forever. But even in my diaper-and-panty induced stupor I knew that’d be a lie. “I wish I could.”

“I know,” she said.

“But tell me more anyways? I want to hear about what I’ll be missing.”

“Mmm,” she moaned, delighted with the request. “Let’s see.”

She crawled into the car completely, closing the door behind her. She threw herself on top of me. It was cramped, but I didn’t mind; I liked having her on top of me. I was naked from the waist down still, my firm cock pressed into the front of her pants.

“I’d get you a bonnet. And a onesie.”

“So you want to start dressing me like a baby, not just a little girl.”

“Seems more appropriate,” she says. “Besides, you’ll be using your diapers more often. I’d keep you in diapers.”

“All the time?”

“All the time,” she said.

“What about Judy.”

“It’s a bit of a struggle at first, but we make it work. You’re dressed like a baby when she’s not home, but you keep the diaper on even when she is. She’s remains clueless about the fact that you don’t use the toilet anymore. But eventually we get a small apartment in town. Close enough that Mom doesn’t feel alone, but a space of our own.”

“You don’t think that would look weird? You and me moving out and into an apartment together?”

“This is the fantasy version of our future, silly.”

“Right, right.”

“Here, in our home, you’re treated like a baby girl at all times. We have friends who come over, but they already know you’re a baby. We just sit on the couch and giggle at you as you crawl around and play with your toys.”

A little satisfied groan escaped my lips.

“We have to buy so many diapers, because you’re using them all the time,” she continued. “I swear, everytime I check your diaper, you’ve used it again. Wetting yourself constantly. Making stinky little messes. But it’s no bother. I never get sick of changing you.”

“More,” I whispered. “Tell me more.”

“Sometimes I let you fuck me.”

“S-sometimes?”

“If you’ve been a good girl. Sometimes I fuck you.”

Her hands are nowhere near my ass, but it’s as if I can feel her fingers at my backdoor again, slowly pushing themselves into me. I moan again.

“We’re happy,” she finally says.

Neither of us says anything for a few moments. We lie next to each other in the backseat of the car, and I watch reflections from other car’s headlights periodically illuminate her face.

“You have to go back,” she says. “I know this.”

“I don’t want to.”

She laughed, a sweet-yet-condescending laugh. The laugh of a big sister who knows more than you. “We want things we can’t have. But there’s still a lot of things we’ll always have.”

It wasn’t what I wanted to hear, but it was what I needed.

“You’re right.”

“I’ll get off of you in a minute,” she said. “I’ll finish changing your diaper and then we can go home.”

I nodded.

“But first? Can you do something for me?”

“Anything?”

She reached down to the waistband of her tight black leggings, pushing them down her body. “Can I feel you inside of me?”

Friday

Emmy turns the TV on and sits down on the couch. I sit down next to her, wearing only a diaper and my new panties. I’m sucking on my pacifier. She smiles and pats her lap. I hesitate, and she pats it again. I sit down on her lap and this is how we watch TV together for the rest of the morning.

I wet myself once within the first hour, and wet myself again about an hour and a half after that. She waits a while before checking my diaper, though I suspect she’s already well aware of the state of it on warmth alone.

Since the diapers arrived on Wednesday, Emmy and I have spent almost all of our time together–sleep aside. She says aloud what I’m thinking: that it’s probably been a while since I’ve had a bowel movement. Though she uses the cutesy phrase ‘made a boom boom.’

I hem and haw about whether or not I’m willing to do that–some aloud, and some to myself. It’s a vulnerable spot to put myself in, and it’s a lot to ask her to contend with.

She assures me that she can handle it. She’s done it before. She’d do it again.

Sitting on her lap, facing ahead towards the TV–where some puppets sing about the letters X, Y, and Z–I grunt and empty my bowels into my diaper while Emmy slowly rubs my belly. It’s surprisingly easy to do.

She doesn’t say anything. She doesn’t make fun of me or make any snide jokes. She runs her hands up and down my back, and we continue sitting there as if nothing had changed. She lets me finish the show, sitting on her lap in my stinking diaper.

She changes me when it’s over, right on the living room floor. She bags up the dirty diaper after, giving it to me to take outside and deposit in the trash while she prepares lunch. I almost walk out the door in just my new diaper, but stop myself at the last moment - running to grab some sweatpants and a t-shirt. Outside I see our neighbor, Mrs. Krepps. I wave to her, amused at her obliviousness to what just transpired in our house moments earlier.

For lunch, Emmy made me a peanut butter and jelly sandwich. Which, again, she insists on cutting into small pieces and feeding me piece by piece.

She helps me color another picture. This time, upon completion, she asks me to sign it. I do so: “Betsy,” and she tears it from the color book and hangs it on her wall, over top of poor Edward’s face on her Twilight poster.

We cuddle under the covers of her bed soon after. I can’t speak for her, but I fall asleep almost immediately, waking only when her phone’s alarm eventually goes off to remind us that Judy will be home soon. Most of Betsy is dismantled, and I’m left being ‘Ben, but with a diaper.’

Emmy teases her way through dinner, poking and prodding my diaper under the table throughout dinner. After dinner, the three of us sit at the table, talking and catching up some more. I begin to feel annoyed at myself for not coming back sooner. I’m annoyed at myself for taking Judy–more of a mother than my own mother ever was–for granted.

Later, we watch TV together in the living room. Even though Emmy is sitting next to me on the couch, I text her when I’ve wet my diaper again. We do our best not to burst into fits of giggles while Judy joins us.

It might be one of the best days I’ve ever had.

—

“Do you have a minute?” Judy asked.

“Of course.”

Emmy had excused herself to soak in the bathtub for a little bit. There was a time when I was really anxious about spending time alone with Judy. It got easier over the years, though our time apart had set us back a little. If I was to guess the reason for it, I’d that a part of me always felt like I was betraying my own mother. When I distanced myself from her, however, it got much easier to let Judy in.

“I’m really glad you came back,” she said.

“I am too. Thank you for having me.”

“We’re not ‘having you,’” she said with a laugh. “This is your home too. You’re not a guest.”

I nodded. “Thank you. I really should think about it like that more often.”

I watched her bite her lip, she was looking for the right words to say what she wanted to say. “Look…I’m not going to pretend to understand the relationship between you and Emmy.”

My first instinct was to take her words as an attack. She knew too much. Or just enough.

“But I’m glad that you have that relationship,” she continued, a warm smile on her face.

“Y-yeah?”

“That was my biggest fear when your father and I got married–that you and Emmy wouldn’t get along. But you two are like two peas in a pod. You two click on a level that I don’t always get. But it’s…magical.”

I released an epic sigh of relief. It didn’t sound like she knew anything she wasn’t supposed to. She just saw our closeness. And if anyone was to look at the two of us, that was probably the best I could’ve hoped for.

“Emmy would probably be pretty annoyed at me if she knew I told you this…”

“I won’t tell her you said anything,” I said.

She laughed and continued: “But I think she’s been kind of depressed lately. She doesn’t talk about it much, and I don’t like to pry about it. I’ll tell you what, though. This week, with you back in the house? I haven’t seen that girl smile so much in two years. You brought life back to her. Thank you.”

“Oh…you don’t have to thank me.”

“One request, Ben?”

“Of course.”

“Please come back more often. For her sake?”

“Judy, I promise you, I plan on coming back much more often.”

Saturday

“I wish you didn’t have to go,” Emmy said, hugging me for what feels like the 110th time that day.

“I know.”

“Just one week off?”

“I wish I could’ve taken more, but…” I’m tempted to make an excuse about work being especially busy. But the truth is that I only ever requested a week off just in case I had come home and realized that I didn’t want to be here. “Next time I’ll take more time off.”

“Please?”

“Promise.”

“How’s your diaper?” Emmy asked, patting me on the ass. A faint crinkling noise could be heard above the airport hubbub.

“Dry. For now.”

“Think you’ll make it back to London like that?”

“I doubt it.”

“Well, don’t worry. I packed some extras in your bag.”

I laughed and shook my head. “You know I have to put my bag through security right? There’s no way that they’re not going to see the diapers.”

She shrugged. “Oh come on. You live for that sort of embarrassment.”

She wasn’t wrong, and I was already blushing just thinking about it. It felt like it was my turn to say the thing she had been saying all day: “I’m going to miss you.”

“But you’re coming back? Sooner than later?”

“I’ve been thinking about it. Maybe I need to…prioritize the things that are important to me?”

“Oh? And what do you think is the most important thing?”

“Family,” I said with a smile. We both leaned in, kissing each other’s lips.

“Don’t tease me like that,” she said.

I shrugged. “I’m not making promises. I’m just saying that maybe it’s time to come back home.”

“What do you think things will be like next time you come back?” she asked.

“You’ll have a boyfriend. You won’t be living at home.”

“You make it sound like you’re not coming home again for ten years.”

“No, no,” I laughed. “I just have faith in you.”

“I don’t want a boyfriend,” she whined. “I want Betsy.”

“You already have her, silly.”

Emmy sighed. “You’re not supposed to sound like my big brother. You’re my little sister, remember?”

“Yeah, I know.”

“Go on, get to your plane. Call me when you land?”

“Of course. Oh, and one more thing.”

“Yes?”

“I’m wetting my diaper…right now.”

Ten Months Later

The doorbell rung, stirring me from the couch.

“I’ll get it,” I called out.

“It’s just your sister,” Judy said from the kitchen. “I don’t know why she insists on ringing the doorbell everytime she comes over. She can just walk through the door.”

“She can’t help that she’s weird,” I said.

Though, I knew the reason why she rang the doorbell. I positioned myself on the other side of the door. “What’s the password?”

A muffled giggle came from the other side of the door. “Carrots.”

I opened the door. “I would have also accepted: King Ben, Champion of the Entire Universe. Or, preferably, Princess Betsy, the…”

Emmy stopped laughing long enough to clear her throat obviously. I now saw that her new boyfriend, James, was standing behind her.

“Princess who?” James asked Emmy.

“It’s a, uh, little in-joke of ours,” Emmy said. “James, I want you to meet my brother. Ben, this is my…boyfriend, James.”

“That hesitation can’t bode well for me,” James said with a laugh, taking my outstretched hand and shaking it.

“I guess it’s the first time I said it aloud,” Emmy said with a laugh.

“Come on, get inside,” I said, waving them in. “Mom is making dinner. Should be ready in a few minutes.”

“Aw,” cooed Emmy. “You call her ‘Mom’ now?”

“I figured it’s the least I can do now that it’s just me and her living here.”

Emmy handed the bottle of wine and box of cake she was carrying to James. “Can you run that into the kitchen for me? It’s straight ahead that way. I’ll be there in a minute.”

“Of course,” he said, accepting the items and marching off.

Emmy and I looked at each other for a moment–just staring into each other’s eyes. We finally embraced, trading one quick kiss on the lips.

“How’s Betsy doing?” she asked.

“You’ll have to check for yourself.”

“I have to go introduce James to Mom. But I will, you can count on that.”

“I know.”

I watched her trot off to the kitchen, where I could already hear Judy and James talking.

I was home again. Emmy may have moved out, but she was close enough that I saw her just about every day. She saw Betsy often.

James, or someone like him, was an inevitability. It was the next big test for whatever it was that Emmy and I were doing. Things were going to get weirder. There was more at stake now than there ever had been before.