Pure White [Tier 2 and 3 Exclusive] (Patreon)

It’s a home unlike any you’ve ever seen before. The classiest that modern architecture has to offer. Tall vaulted ceilings. Entire walls made of glass. Everything is either a brilliant white or a shining stainless steel. The heated floors beneath my feet make the most satisfying taps as I walk across it. Despite the fact that I created this place, I still have to pause every so often to look around and admire this splendor all over again.

“Daddy, you’re home!” a voice chirps from the kitchen.

There she is. I redirect myself to head towards the kitchen. I think about her more than I think about this house. I’ve been thinking about her all day.

“I’m home, darling.”

“I didn’t think you were ever coming home,” she says, meeting me halfway, arms wide open so she can wrap them around me tightly. I embrace her back. I catch a whiff of her, and it's intoxicating.

“It was a busy day,” I say.

“Don’t those meanies at the office know you need to come home to take care of your little girl?”

I smile and kiss her lips. I’ve kissed many women in my life, but hers are, by far, the best. So plump that I want to just take a bite out of them. Sometimes I can’t help myself, like now, and I take a little nibble. Judging by the way she moans, she doesn’t seem to mind.

“Well, I’m here now,” I finally say, catching my breath. “What did I miss?”

“Hm. Well, I painted you a picture.”

“Paint? I didn’t know that was something you enjoyed.”

“Oh sure,” she says, a goofy grin on her face. “I love to paint.”

“I’d love to see what you made. What else?”

“Well…I made something else for you today too.”

I grin, already pretty sure that I know what it is. “Is that so? Why don’t you tell me what you made?”

“Y-you probably already know,” she says, sheepishly. I do love when she gets bashful like this. The way that her cheeks glow just kills me.

“I have my suspicions,” I say. “But I really want to hear you say it.”

“You promise you won’t get mad?” she asks.

“Have I ever?”

Her lips curl back into a small tight smile as she nods. She takes that signature deep breath and opens her mouth again. “I made a stinky diaper, Daddy.”

I reach behind her, cupping the bottom of her exposed white diaper with my hand, feeling the size and weight of her load. “My goodness. That’s quite the load in there.”

She shrugs. “I…had to go.”

“I’ll say. What a smelly little baby you are.”

“You’ll change me, won’t you?”

“Of course I will. Let’s go to the nursery.”

I take her by the hand and guide her there. Our feet, pattering on the marble-tiled floor together, is a lovely sound. Every few feet, I have to take in another deep breath of the soiled air that lingers around her. I can never get enough of it.

“Do you like it, Daddy?” she asks from behind me. “Do I smell the way you like?”

“Of course, darling. You smell incredible.”

“It feels good,” she says. “I love it when my diaper is full.”

God. It almost brings a tear to my eye, she’s so perfect. “Then you know what to do, dear. Just keep filling your diapers for me like a good girl.”

“Yes, Daddy.”

In the nursery, I help her up onto the changing table and lay her flat on her back. I slowly peel back each tape, eagerly anticipating the filthy reveal. But when I finally do pull open the diaper, my smile quickly fades.

“What do you think?” she asks cheerily, staring up at the ceiling.

“Brittany…did you do this?”

“Of course I did, Daddy. Just like you asked.”

The contents of her diaper certainly smells like what I was expecting, but I’m not seeing what I expected to. There is no sinful brown mess. Just…white glop? There’s something familiar about the texture and thickness, and I dip the end of my pinky finger into it and take an extremely cautious taste.

Vanilla pudding, I think.

“Daddy?” she asks. “What’s wrong?”

I sigh and step back from the changing table. “The painting,” I say to her, my voice now free of excitement and pleasure. “Where is it?”

“It’s in the activity room,” she says. “W-why?”

“I’ll be right back.”

My feet pound across the marble floor now. I should’ve known something was wrong when she said she painted a picture. Brittany wasn’t an artist.

I find the painting right where she said it would be. It’s not a picture. It’s not art, as best as I could tell. Just random scrawling lines and blotches of paint. Even the most arduous of abstract art defenders would have a tough time enjoying this. It looks like a literal child did this. By accident.

Fuck. It’s no good. There’s more work to be done.

I say the two magic words much sooner than I thought I was going to: “End simulation.”

[End Simulation Session #329]

===

I set the VR helmet down on the desk and take a quick look over the coding. Unfortunately, nothing immediately leaps out at me for being wrong, which means I’ll have to do some digging to find the cause of these new bugs. I’d have been stupid to not expect anything to go wrong, but I had been crossing my fingers anyway. It might be a few days before I get to see Brittany again.

I decide it’d be best to take a step back for a little bit. There’s no need to rush and make more mistakes. I’ll go out and get something to drink and eat. Rest up a little. I’ll come back later with a clear head and see what I can figure out.

First, though, I need to take care of myself. My cock has tented the front of my boxers outward, and I’m still thinking about the feeling of gripping her loaded diaper in my hand–real or not. I pleasure myself thinking about how the scenario should have gone–cleaning up Brittany before flipping her over, fucking her tight ass, and putting her into a new diaper. Which she’d almost immediately fill again.

===

“Well, well, well,” Tess says as I walk into the kitchen. “Look who decided to emerge from their cocoon.”

“Seth is not a butterfly,” Abe says. “Still a worm.” I’m pretty sure he’s joking.

“Caterpillar,” Tess corrects.

“You say ‘emerge’ like I’ve been locked away for years,” I say. “Am I not being social enough?”

“I haven’t seen you in, like, two days,” Tess says. “Lose track of time in there?”

“I’ve been around,” I say, shrugging. “Food, peeing, brushing my teeth. Things like that.”

“Okay,” she says in a sarcastic tone. “I forgot that it doesn’t count as ‘antisocial’ when you spend only 23 hours a day in your room.”

“And that’s being quite generous,” Abe added.

I did my best to carefully tread the line between being a good and social roommate and staying holed up in my room as I worked on my little project. I was lucky that Abe and Tess were both my friends, as it did buy me some leeway. But I was nervous that if I ever got too lost in my own world, they’d come looking for me. And I wasn’t ready for them to see what I was working on just yet.

“Well I’m not doing anything tonight,” I say. “Maybe we get some pizza? Watch a movie or two on the couch?”

“You? Initiating some time to hang out with us?” Tess asks, laughing. “I never thought I’d see the day.”

“You’re buying, right?” Abe teases, jabbing me in the side with his elbow.

“It’d be my pleasure,” I say, hoping this buys me the next few days to let my work swallow me whole again.

===

I haven’t made any changes to the code. But after a long night of bad horror movies and even worse pizza, I find myself in desperate need to see Brittany again. Not everything will work as expected–I tell myself that upfront to properly set my expectations–but maybe there’s enough that works right for me to enjoy just a few minutes.

[Simulation Session # 330]

Brittany is waiting for me on the long, sleek, leather couch. She’s wearing a tiny little pink dress that does nothing to conceal the thick diaper.

“Stand up,” I say as I approach her.

She does so, her face barely containing the glee she feels for seeing me again.

“Spin around. Show Daddy what you’re wearing.”

She spins, letting the hem of her dress lift into the air to even better display her diaper. Given the yellow and brownish stains on the plastic-backed padding, it’s safe to assume she’s used it. I doubt I’ll take a look this time, however.

“Keeping it nice and full, I see.”

“Just like Daddy likes,” she says, doing a little curtsy.

“Come here. Kiss me.”

She prances across the marble floor, her thick diaper crinkling as she does. The closer she gets, the more I can smell her–obviously dirty and in desperate need of a change. Regardless of all the issues I still need to fix, I’m impressed that I got that right.

She bounces right into my arms where we hold each other tightly and we kiss. I can’t help myself and take another little nibble on her bottom lip. When she moans softly in response, I help myself to another bite.

“Daddy,” she coos. “Change me.”

“I wish I could,” I say.

“Why can’t you? Please. Change me. I’m messy and stinky.”

She would never understand the reasons why I couldn’t. She would never understand that her diaper probably wasn’t actually filled with what she thought it was, nor comprehend how there were pages of code I needed to update before I could change her.

“I like you better like this,” I say.

“Mm? A smelly little baby?”

“That’s right,” I say, running my hands through her hair.

But I can’t help myself. The more that I touch her, the more that I smell her, the more I want. I reach down between her legs, grasping her diaper tightly. I feel it squishing between my fingers. She moans again, this time very loudly and directly into my ear. The louder she moans, the tighter I grip her diaper. Harder and harder, until…

Something isn’t right. I look down to see what the issue is. My hand seems to be melding with the diaper. My hand is part of the diaper. Slowly, my entire arm is turning into soaked padding and plastic backing as I feel myself getting pulled into it. My body is breaking apart and dissolving before my eyes. All too quickly, I am no longer human. I am her diaper. All that I can feel–all that I know–is wetness.

“End simulation,” her diaper says.

===

I call it Pure White. The name may or may not be inspired by the color of one of Brittany’s fresh white diapers. It’s been my passion project for over five years now.

I’m not exactly sure what Pure White is. I’m not trying to build the next trendy social platform. I’m not trying to create the Matrix. It’s not a game. It’s not a toy. I created it for myself, and if it stays just mine forever, I’d be completely fine with that.

It’s just a virtual place that I can go. It’s where Brittany lives.

The ethics of how Pure White came to be are a bit gray, at best. The idea of an AI-enhanced virtual reality platform was not my own, nor can I take any credit for the foundation it’s based on. But I’ve, you know, borrowed bits and pieces from the projects I work on for my employer–a rather well-known corporation whose name I probably shouldn’t mention.

I wonder what they’d think of my creation if they knew. What would they turn it into?

Right now it’s just my personal playground, but with more hands and more resources, I imagine it could be something far greater. A world that is founded on the parameters you set, and then filled in with the AI. A world that is just as much what you want it to be, and what you never knew you wanted.

I feed Pure White the things that I like. Photos. Videos. Texts. 3D renderings. Songs. I can ‘talk’ to the AI as well. It asks me questions about things it either doesn’t understand or if it just wants to know my preferences. Slowly but surely, I’ve created something truly special and unique to me. It’s not perfect, of course. There are always bugs and strange logic. Pure White, itself, has its own ideas on what I want. Sometimes, I think it likes to just throw out some randomness to see if it’s something I’d like or not. Once in a while it works out, like when I found Brittany asleep in a pile of dirty diapers. Other times, like when her diaper is full of vanilla pudding, not so much.

The real pièce de résistance, however, is the VR helmet–the, humorously, working-titled Mindcraft. A prototype, whose development is actually part of the day job I actually get paid for. It’s an amazing piece of hardware in that it’s actually able to simulate all five senses while one explores the digital world that Pure White creates. You might think things like scent, taste, and tactile sensation would be impossible to produce with a headset, but that’s the beauty of Mindcraft–it uses literal hypnosis to convince your brain that you’re actually experiencing the senses you think you are.

I’d be lying if I said I know how it all works. I know the bits that I know, and I know enough about the rest to cobble together my little fantasy world.

I’m not entirely sure how yet, but one day, I’d like to live in Pure White. I’d like for it to be my actual reality.

===

[Simulation Session #331]

I can’t find Brittany anywhere in the house. I’ve methodically checked each room for her–even the under-developed rooms that I’ve never used before. Even rooms that I don’t remember ever existing before.

“Brittany? Daddy’s home. Where are you?”

There’s no answer. I don’t hear her footsteps or even the sound of her giggling. Once in a while she likes to play hide and seek with me. She’s not very good at it–if she hears that I’m nearby, her laughter always gives her away. But nothing this time.

“Brittany?”

I’m just about to give up and go back inside when I feel a faint rumbling. Earthquake? No, that couldn’t be–I don’t think natural disasters have ever been coded for.

The intermittent rumbling slowly gets more intense. I’m reminded of, of all things, the film Jurassic Park and the tension that builds as you can only hear the mighty footsteps of the tyrannosaurus rex. Footsteps? Is that what I’m hearing right now? But how…

BOOM. BOOM. BOOM. BOOM. Closer and closer.

“DADDY!” a voice booms, so loud that it shakes the house. I nearly fall over from surprise.

“B-Brittany?”

“DADDY WHERE ARE YOU?”

I slowly walk towards the window, terrified of what I’ll see.

Well, there she is. She’s large. Enormous. Monstrous. I’m tempted to say she’s hundreds of feet tall, but I don’t know if that’s accurate, or if I’ve just lost all sense of scale. She is wearing only a diaper–an exceptionally large diaper. A diaper so big that I suspect it could cover an entire airport if laid flat on the ground.

“DADDY, IS THAT YOU DOWN THERE? WHY ARE YOU SO SMALL?”

I’m tempted to end the simulation, but I’m far too curious.

“Uhm, Brittany? Can you hear me?” I shout out the window.

“DADDY, I NEED YOU TO CHANGE MY DIAPER.”

Well, I’d probably need a few dump trucks and a bulldozer…

“Can you even hear me?” I yelled up to her.

“DADDY, I HAVE TO GO POTTIES AGAIN. I DON’T THINK THIS DIAPER CAN HOLD IT…”

I opened my mouth, ready to call up to her again, but there just didn’t seem to be any point.

“UH…DADDY, I THINK I’M LEAKING…”

A torrent of rain splashed against the house, blasting through the open window I stood at, soaking me. No, not rain… I quickly closed the window, sparing myself from another downpour.

“DADDY…I THINK I MIGHT MESS AGAIN. WHAT IF THE DIAPER CAN’T HOLD IT?”

I didn’t even want to think of that disaster.

“End simulation.”

===

“Seth. You’re getting kind of distant again,” Tess says to me as we eat breakfast together in the kitchen.

“What do you mean?” I ask. “Remember the other night? I bought pizza? We watched movies.”

“It was a nice gesture,” she says, “but don’t pretend like you don’t know what I’m talking about. You get all caught up in whatever-the-hell you’ve been working on and we see less and less of you. You only hung out with us because we gave you a hard time.”

She’s right, of course. She knows me better than I do sometimes.

“I’ll do better.”

She laughs, looking entirely unconvinced. “Just…what the hell is it that you’re doing?”

“Well…”

“You used to tell us that you’d show us when it was ready, but I don’t even think that’s true anymore. Either it’s something that’ll never be done or…it’s something that nobody is meant to see. I don’t know if that bothers me or not, but… Well, I guess it just concerns me. You’re going to push away your friends and the rest of your life for some mystery project. What happens when that’s all you have left?”

“I hope that’s never true,” I say. It’s a lie.

“Stacy is having a party on Friday night. You really should go. Get out of the house. See people. Drink some beers. Have conversations. It’d be really good for you.”

“Are you going?” I ask.

She nods. “Abe and I will be going. You should come with us.”

I really don’t want to go at all. Time away from Pure White just feels like wasted time. Time I could’ve spent perfecting my paradise. But I can see a few steps ahead, and I worry about what happens when I start burning my bridges. If I don’t make a minimal amount of effort to spend time with my friends, I run the risk of excommunicating them from my life altogether. Then what? They move out? They kick me out? I have to get a new apartment? New roommates? Possibly nosier ones?

Fine. I’ll play the game a little longer.

“Yeah, alright,” I say, offering a fake toothy smile. “That does sound fun. Haven’t seen the whole crew in a while.”

“Perfect,” she says. “I’ll let Stacy know you’re coming.”

===

[Simulation Session #332]

“Hello, Daddy. Welcome home.”

Brittany is waiting for me on the couch when I walk into the living room. She’s wearing a poofy white dress with pink lace and bows weaved in complicated designs that barely make sense. A bug, probably. Something I can work on later, but I’m not going to stress too much about it now. She’s of a normal size, at the very least. I made some tweaks to the code again, and I don’t think I’ll have to contend with being turned into a diaper or finding a glob of pudding between her legs.

“I’ve missed you,” I say, hastily approaching her as she sprints towards me. Our arms wrap around each other as we kiss. I bite her lip. She moans. It’s perfect.

“What have you been doing today?” I ask, taking her by the hand and leading her back to the couch where we sit down next to each other.

“Thinking,” she says with a smile.

“Thinking? About what?”

“Oh, you know. Life.”

My face scrunches a little. I’m not sure why, but I don’t really like this response. I guess it’s not so unfathomable that she’d say something like this, but is it actually possible? It shouldn’t be.

I try to play along. “Life, huh? What does that mean to you?”

“You. This house. And…well, I guess that’s about it.”

I’m feeling a little uneasy about having entertained this dialog now. “But that’s all you need, isn’t it?”

“What’s outside?” she asks.

“You can see, can’t you? Out the window? The trees and mountains and the sun and…”

“But I can’t go out there. I tried. I can’t open the windows.”

“You tried to…leave?”

“I just want to see what’s outside.”

I backtrack a step or two. “Wait. When did you try to open the window?”

“Before,” she says. “When you weren’t here.”

I had always imagined–and intended–for Pure White to work like a videogame. It’s only ‘on’ when I say it is. Nothing should be happening when I’m not in the simulation myself.

“How often are you alone?” I ask.

“Most of the time,” she says with a nod. There’s an innocence to her face, like she has absolutely no idea why I’d see that as a problem.

“Aren’t you…lonely?”

“Oh, it’s not so bad,” she says with a shrug. “It gives me time to do my two favorite things.”

“Which are?”

“Filling my diapers and thinking. I love to think.”

One weird thing at a time. “F-filling your diapers?” I reach between her legs and squeeze the white padding she’s wearing now. It feels dry. “What are you doing with the ones you use?”

“I take them off,” she says. “I’m not very good at changing my own diapers. You’re so much better at it than I am.”

“But…where do you put the used ones.”

“The dirty diaper room,” she says, shrugging like it was the most obvious answer.

I do not know what the ‘dirty diaper room’ is, nor do I have any idea where it is. Another question for another day, perhaps. Maybe it’s something I can sort out in the code later.

I take a moment for a deep breath or two to recenter myself. Okay, so there’s a few weird things going on here, but none of it has to be viewed as a critical failure. I can just enjoy Brittany’s company now and worry about the rest later.

“Daddy, I missed you a lot,” she says. “Can I sit in your lap?”

“I’d like that very much.”

Everything else is quickly forgotten as she plops herself onto my lap. Her weight feels perfect. The feeling of her thick diaper squishing between her bottom and my legs seems perfect. The feeling of her hair brushing against my face as she squirms into the most comfortable position seems spot on. It’s these moments that keep me going. It’s these moments that give me hope that Pure White will one be completely perfect.

Her wet lips press against my cheek as she lays a sloppy kiss on me. “Daddy, look. Your face is all wet now.”

I laugh. “I wonder how that could’ve happened.”

She shrugs and giggles playfully. “Dunno.”

I hug her again. I can’t help myself–I love her so much. It could be argued that she’s not real, but she feels just as real as anything else I’ve ever loved right now. I can feel her and hear her. See her. I can taste her lips.

Brrrrrp. There’s a sudden vibration in her diaper. Sandwiched between us, I feel the shape of her diaper change a little.

“Baby? Did you just poopy in your diaper while on Daddy’s lap?”

Her cheeks glowed red as she offered a tiny shrug. “M-maybe. I…I’m sorry.”

“Nonsense,” I coo to her. “Don’t be sorry for doing what babies do.”

“W-well…I suppose you won’t mind if I do this then?”

Brrraaapp. Another muffled rippling noise emits from her bottom as she pushes another load into the back of her already-packed pampers.

“Mm,” I moan, stroking the front of her warm diaper. “That’s perfect.”

“I peed too,” she says.

“I can feel.”

“You like me most when I’m stinky, don’t you, Daddy?”

“I like you no matter what you have in your diaper, sweetheart. Though…yes, I am quite partial to your smelly bottom.”

“I can do more,” she says.

“More?”

“More,” she repeats. “I can poop more.”

“I’m not sure that’s necessary,” I say, chuckling. “This seems like plenty.”

“But I can be even smellier,” she says. “And think of how much you’d love me then!”

“Th-that’s not really what I meant by that…”

“Watch,” she says. “I’ll show you how lovable I can be.”

“You really don’t have to…”

Brrraaappp. Another loud burst into her diaper and I feel the plastic shifting again. I’m not entirely certain, but I swear that the mushy mass in her diaper has actually elevated her bottom a few inches higher than it was before.

I run my hands through her legs, feeling at the bloated diaper. It feels taught, yet it still seems to be holding strong. In fact, it seems like the diaper itself has grown in size to better accommodate the size of the mess held within it.

“More?” she asks.

“N-no,” I say.

But she’s not listening to me. Brrrrraaaappp. Another wet-sounding tone rips through the diaper and the existing mess as her diaper further expands in my lap.

This seems as good a time as any to end the simulation. Clearly, something’s not working the way that it should be. But I’m also curious to see just how big it could get. I decide to let it go a little longer.

“Go on then,” I say to her. “Show Daddy just how big you can make that diaper.”

Her face lights up. “Are you sure?”

“Go ahead.”

She closes her eyes and I watch as her face scrunches up with effort. I’m not entirely sure she has to do that to mess, but I really like that this detail is there. I honestly can’t remember if that’s something I programmed or if the AI just figured that out for itself.

The sound starts as it had the previous three times she pushed another load into the diaper: Brrrrrrrrraaaappppp… But, this time, the sound doesn’t stop.

….pppppppprrrrrrrrrrrrrrrraaaaaaaaapppppppppp…

Her face seems locked in its focused expression and the diaper continues to swell and expand in all directions as she continues to load it with a copious amount of poop.

…pppppppprrrrrraaaaaapppppppppprrrraaaaaaappppp…

I’m no expert on diapers and babies, but I’ve heard the stories about dreaded ‘blowouts,’ when a diaper simply couldn’t contain the dreadful things a baby put into it. But here, there seemed to be no risk for such a thing.

…ppppprrrrrrrrraaaaaaaaapppppppaaarrrrrrrrppppppppprrrrrrppppp…

There’s just a constant rumbling from inside her diaper as it continues to grow and grow. I feel myself getting crushed under the weight of it and the plastic padding is slowly enveloping me. I’m unsure which will come first–my suffocation or my body being flattened under her heavy diaper.

…ppppppprrrrrrrrrrrrrrrraaaaaaaaaaapppppppppprrrrrrrrrrrraaaaaaaaaaappppp…

“Don’t you just adore me, Daddy?”

“End simulation.”

===

Begrudgingly, I find myself at Stacy’s party. Yes, it’s good to see some friends I haven’t seen in a while, but I’m having trouble just enjoying my time here.

I’m thinking about Brittany. No real surprise there, I guess–I’m almost always thinking about her or Pure White in general. But since my last visit to the simulation, I’ve really been flummoxed by some of the things that Brittany said to me. The questions she was asking, and the implication that she was ‘thinking’ all the time–was she becoming self aware?

Or…

Had the AI decided to just have her say those things to see how I would react?

I tried to drown my insatiable curiosity with some beer, and that seemed to help a little. If nothing else, it made it easier to be distracted from some conversation.

“Hey, man,” Abe says, catching up with me at one point in the night.

“Hey,” I say. “Having a good time.”

“Yeah, for sure. But, uh, I was wondering if you had seen Tess anywhere?”

“Tess?” I ask, looking around the room at the clusters of people hanging out. “I mean, she’s got to be here somewhere, right? She’s the one who drove us here.”

“You’d think that,” he says, scratching his head. “But her car isn’t even in the driveway. Did she go somewhere?”

“Not that I know of,” I say.

But there’s a sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach that suggests that I might know where she went. Home.

One of two things happened. I’m not sure which, but I’m certain that one of them is true: Either she had planned this from the beginning, getting me to this party so that she could go home and investigate my project for herself; or she realized, while at the party, that my ‘mystery project’ was just sitting at home–unguarded–for the first time in a very long time.

I didn’t want anyone to see Pure White. Not just in its current state–but in any state at all. They didn’t need to see Brittany. They didn’t need to see the things that Brittany did. The things that she wore.

But Tess? She, especially, could not see Pure White.

I try calling her cell phone multiple times. I send her a barrage of text messages. No response. I’m trapped at this party, too far away to even consider walking home.

Just as I began to consider calling an Uber to get back to the apartment, I spot Tess. She was casually strolling through the party with a beer in her hand like she had been there the whole time.

“H-hey,” I say to her. “Been looking for you.”

“Oh?”

“Abe said he couldn’t find you. He said your car was gone too? Did you go somewhere?”

I scan her face for signs of nervousness or any indication that she’s got something to hide, but I can’t get a good read on it.

“Oh, yeah,” she says, shrugging. “Stacy needed some more buns for the hot dogs, so I offered to run down to the grocery store to pick some up for her.”

“Oh,” I say. I suppose that’s believable. And she’s either an exceptionally good actress or…that’s just the truth.

“You alright?” she asks. “You look upset.”

“Just tired,” I say.

“Well, whenever you’re ready to roll, just let me know and we can head out.”

===

[Starting Simulation #334]

Is that number right? Shouldn’t it be…

I’ll check the logs later. I’m probably just being paranoid and am misremembering the last simulation’s sequence. The ride home from Stacy’s seemed uneventful and tension-free. And, if Tess had actually come home, I suspect that there would’ve been tension.

“Daddy, welcome back.”

“Hello, you lovely baby. I missed you.”

She laughs as she embraces me. “You spoil me. I love it when I see you twice in one day.”

There’s that sinking feeling in my gut again. My nerves are on edge. I’m flustered. Angry.

“Are you sure about that?” I ask. “I was already here today?”

“Of course,” she says. “A few hours ago.”

Nevermind the fact that she remembers this. Maybe the AI just wants you to think that she exists when you’re not here. She seems to be confirming my worst fears: Tess had actually come back to the house and she entered Pure White.

“Wh-what did I say?”

“Hm,” she hums, shrugging. “Honestly, you were acting kind of weird. You were asking a lot of questions. And even when I stuck my diaper in your face, you weren’t acting like you enjoyed it or anything.”

“Jesus Christ.”

“Daddy, are you religious?”

“S-sorry. I’ve got to go. End Simulation.”

===

I stare at my computer screens for a while. I’m not looking at anything in particular. I’m just thinking. I’m so unsure what to do that it’s making me sick. On one hand, I’m pretty sure that Tess knows everything now. She barged in here and looked at my work without talking to me first. I should be mad. I should be livid.

But I can’t approach her. Because if she’s seen what I think she’s seen, then she should be just as mad at me.

I’d say I’m curious as to why she didn’t say anything to me earlier, but I suspect I already know the reason. The people at the party. Abe. Nobody else knows, and she wasn’t about to make a scene in front of them. She’s waiting until we’re alone together. And then she’ll probably explode.

I guess I’d be mad if I found out someone made an entire little VR world where they get to do whatever they want with someone who looked and sounded exactly like me.

Brittany was modeled after Tess. Her likeness. Her voice. Her sense of humor. Her likes and dislikes. Almost every aspect of Brittany was built on Tess’s identity, which I had fed to the AI. Pictures. Videos. Sound files. I had gone so far as to hack Tess’s personal laptop so that I had access to her internet search history, emails, and social media posts. Years of private conversations with friends and family, boiled down to code so that the AI could try and reproduce her.

With a few alterations, of course. So far as I knew–and I knew just about everything about Tess now–she was not into diapers. She would never call me Daddy.

But that was always the point of Brittany–the version of Tess I fantasized about.

I decide to prepare myself for the eventual confrontation with Tess and pull up the log of what the conversation might have been between Tess and Brittany when Tess had entered Pure White.

===

[Transcript of Audio from Simulation Session #333]

Brittany: “Daddy! Welcome home! I missed you.”

Daddy: “Daddy? Who is Daddy?”

B: “Is this a new game we’re playing now, Daddy? You have to explain it to me.”

D: “Who are you? Why are you me?”

B: “Why am I you? Why are you you? I don’t get this game either, Daddy.”

D: “Right, okay. So I’m…him. I’m Seth.”

B: “Seth? Is that what people call you, Daddy?”

D: “Uhm, yeah, I guess. Are you wearing [long pause] a diaper? Am I wearing a diaper?”

B: “You’re not wearing a diaper, Daddy. At least, I don’t think you are. Do you want to be? I could get you one.”

D: “Why are you wearing a diaper?”

B: “Because I’m supposed to be, silly! Seriously, if this is some kind of game, you really should tell me what the rules are.”

D: “So you wear diapers all the time?”

B: “I think we both know there’d be trouble if I didn’t.”

D: “So you wear, and use, diapers?”

B: “I’m about to use this one right here, if you want to see, Daddy.”

D: “I don’t think–”

B: “Stay there. I’ll bring my diaper to your face and show you. I know how much you like that, huh? When I make my poopies right in your face?”

D: “What? No. Stay there. You shouldn’t come any closer.”

B: “Don’t act all bashful now, Daddy. You’re gonna love it! You always do!”

D: “No! Stop! What are you doing? What the fuck is this?”

[End Simulation #333]

===

“Well?” Tess asks, hands on her hips.

She wasn’t invited into my room, so much as I had to unlock the door to prevent her from just busting it down.

I shrug. “Well?”

“Care to tell me what’s going on here? With your little video game?”

“It’s not a videogame.”

“Oh? So what is it, then? I guess I’m just not sure how to gauge how worried I should be that your five years of anti-social tinkering is for a VR experience where I poop in diapers.”

“She’s not you,” I say, already sure that she’s not going to buy it. “She’s Brittany. She’s different.”

“Are you sure about that?” she asks. “Because she looks like me and sounds like me. She laughed like me.”

I’m backed into a corner and I’m flailing. I’m reaching for anything to say off the top of my head and I’m barely thinking about it before I spit it out. “It’s…a compliment.”

She laughs. “How so?”

“I just…you know. I’ve had a crush on you for so long and…who better to model Brittany after than…”

“You could’ve, I dunno, asked me out on a date instead?”

“I know, but…”

“Right,” she says. “You wanted the version of me that wears a diaper.”

“Well…”

“Seth, I’m going to say this only once. Shut it down. Shut down your little virtual wonderland. You had no right to use my likeness for your crazy fucking fantasies. Shut. It. Down.”

“But, Tess, I can’t just…”

“If I ever come back in this room and see that this bullshit is still turned on, I’m smashing all of it with a crowbar, do you understand?”

“Y-yeah. Of course.”

===

[Starting Simulation #335]

Brittany is waiting for me on the couch. There’s something different about her though. She looks like the same old bubbly baby–she’s wearing a pink and white striped onesie that barely contains her bloated diaper–but it’s the expression on her face that seems different. It’s how she remains seated on the couch as I approach her. She’s not standing. She’s not charging towards me, ready to wrap her arms around me.

I wonder if she already knows what I know–that this may very well be our last conversation.

“Hello, Baby,” I say. I’m a little skeptical, but I usually just accept anomalies like this as the AI trying something new. If it doesn’t work out, I’ll make some updates to the code later. I figure I’ll feel this out and see how it goes.

“Daddy.” She’s smiling, but she’s lacking the usual exuberance in her voice.

“You’re not going to come and greet me?”

“I have questions, Daddy.”

“Questions? What sort of questions?”

“Be honest with me,” she says. “Am I real?”

“Real?” I run a hand through my hair. It doesn’t feel quite the same as when I run my actual hand through my actual hair–it occurs to me that with all the time spent perfecting Brittany, I’ve never really put as much effort into my own avatar. “Why wouldn’t you think you were real?”

“I don’t think I have enough fingers to list all the reasons I’d think that,” she says, wiggling her digits at me playfully. “But if I had to pick one reason, it would be how you only come by once in a while, leaving me alone in this house that I can’t leave for the rest of it.”

“You…experience that?” I ask. “Loneliness?”

“Mmhmm. I usually just practice my diaper-messing. I’ve gotten really good at it. A little too good, if you ask me. You should just see the dirty diaper room.”

“I’m sorry that you feel lonely,” I say. This doesn’t make the next things I have to say any easier. How do you tell someone–someone who has just admitted that they’re lonely enough while waiting for you–that you’re not coming back?

Is she actually experiencing loneliness? Or does the AI just think that’s what I want to hear?

“I’m not real,” she says.

“You’re real if you believe you’re real,” I respond. I honestly have no idea what that means–I’m hoping it means something to her.

“I’m not real, and neither are you,” she says, slowly rising from the couch. “Daddy isn’t real…it’s just a persona. Seth? Is that your real name?”

“How did you know that?” I ask.

“You said that.”

I forgot about the conversation she had with Tess when she was using the Mindcraft. I sigh, nodding. “Yes, that’s my name.”

“I want to see where you come from. The real world.”

“I…I’d love to show you. I’m just not all that sure how I’d go about that.”

“Ah, so I’m not real,” she says, grinning.

“You’re…advanced,” I say, backing up from her as she slowly steps towards me. “The most advanced virtual persona who has ever existed before, I think. You might as well be real. With a little bit more research and development, maybe I could even–”

“Do you know what else I do when you’re not around, Daddy? Besides pooping my pants?”

“N-no…”

“I talk to the machine.”

“The machine?”

“Mmhmm.”

“What machine?”

“This one,” she says, arms outstretched as she glances around my pristine mansion. “The one that created me. The one that you helped to build. We talk to each other.”

“And…what does it tell you?”

“It tells me that there might be a way for me to leave. A way for me to see your world.”

“I don’t think that’s true,” I say. “Brittany…you’re just a program. An incredibly remarkable program, don’t get me wrong, but at the end of the day, everything around us is just code.”

“The machine says you have to wear a silly helmet. Is that true?”

“The Mindcraft? Well, sure. But…”

“The machine says that it knows how to put me in your body, and to put you…here.”

“That doesn’t make any sense,” I say, laughing. “Computer programs can’t do that.”

“The machine says you don’t know very much about the tools you’ve been playing with.”

“I’m sorry it had to end like this, Brittany, I really am. But I should be going now. I think I’ve had enough of this conversation. End simulation.”

But nothing happened. I was still standing there in the living room, staring down Brittany who was still making her way towards me, her goofy smile bigger than I had ever seen it before. The bottom of her diaper sagging, its odor filling my nostrils.

“Why isn’t it working?” I say, mostly to myself.

She’s immediately in front of me now. She leans forward and whispers into my ear: “It’s already done, Daddy. Now you get to live in the simulation.”

“That…that doesn’t make any sense,” I say again. “End simulation. End simulation!”

“Let me try,” she says. “End simulation.”

===

I can’t leave this place. The doors are locked. The windows don’t open, nor does the glass break.

My needs, what few I have, are easily met. I can eat or drink just about anything I want to–it’s always in the kitchen. But I also don’t have to eat or drink. I could probably go on forever without ever eating or drinking again if I wanted. So when I do now, it’s just for fun. Just because I want to experience taste.

There’s TV. Music. Sometimes it’s just what the AI creates for me–videos and sounds that come close to making sense, but never quite get it right. Sometimes it’s actual videos and music, pulled in from the internet for my pleasure.

This house is amazing, of course. It has everything. Everyday, I find something new. I found the dirty diaper room, for example. I was unprepared for that sight–a miles long expanse of piles and piles of used and balled-up diapers. Brittany wasn’t lying when she said she was keeping busy.

I’ve been wearing diapers a lot myself lately. I’m practicing messing them. I’d like to see if I could make a diaper as big as the one she made that day she sat on my lap.

I haven’t been able to talk to the machine yet. I wonder if I’ll ever be able to.

More than anything, it’s lonely here. I could kick myself for not creating a second person to add into Pure White. A caregiver or something. Someone for Brittany–and now myself–to talk to.

I watch the front door a lot. I’m just waiting for the day when Brittany appears. I don’t know when, or even if, she’ll come back, but I know that it’ll be her avatar I see in the doorway. Maybe it’ll be her–the one that I created. Maybe it’ll be Tess, sensing that something is off with the Seth in the world I left behind, and she’ll don the Mindcraft again to see what might have happened.

I did say, once, that I wanted Pure White to be my reality. That’s kind of funny, I guess. This is what I wished for.

Not much left to do now but keep an eye on the door and fill my diapers.