Invasion of the Diaper Elves: The Stutterer, One (Patreon)

Sorry guys! This one got away from me again, so I'm splitting it in two. Second Part will be up soon.

“Amid-st the mis...the mis...mis...” Paige struggled out, trying not to spit.

“The mists.” said Aunt Bethany, with her perfect, cut-glass enunciation.

“Amidz...A-midsss...”

“Amidst.”

Paige wanted to scream. Why did Aunt Bethany imagine that saying the word correctly was going to help her? Hearing her aunt repeat the words in her West London accent wouldn't stop her from stuttering, any more than watching a Jet Lee movie would turn her into a martial artist. She had told her aunt this hundreds of times, of course. She had been a stutterer all her life, and struggling her way through tongue twisters had never been helpful before.

“Amid-st the missst...”

“Amidst.” repeated Aunt Bethany, an edge of irritation evident in her voice.

“Dammit! This is...iss... isn't helping!” spat Paige.

“You can pronounce words properly if you'd only apply yourself.” responded her aunt coldly, as she had many times in the past.

“I need aggja...ag...”

“You need to keep at it and try harder.”

“...agjual speech therapy!” finished Paige, desperate not to be interrupted. It had always been easy for people to talk over her and ignore her because of her speech impediment. That was the main reason she was currently unemployed, and that, in turn, was why she was forced to tolerate her aunt's “help”.

“I'm not going to waste money on a so-called 'therapist' when I can provide the same service free of charge.” explained Aunt Bethany. “especially considering that you refuse to put the effort in to actually improve.”

“I've been at this two hours a day for mon...muntz...for mun..!” Paige had to fight the urge to stomp her feet in frustration. Her stuttering always got worse when she was angry, just when she needed to make herself understood the most. It was so unfair.

“Months?” asked Aunt Bethany. “and yet you can't manage the first line reliably. Why is that, do you imagine?”

Paige inhaled sharply “Maybe we could try som-th...somth...a different technique!”

“That's what you've been doing all your life, dear. Just like you did with that sentence. You try something, find it's trickier than you imagined, and then abandon it and try something else. You won't make any progress like that. You need to keep trying and trying until you get it right.”

Paige bit her cheek. There was no point in arguing. Even if she could get a sentence out without mangling half of it, her aunt would never listen to her. The worst part was, Aunt Bethany genuinely was being generous. The older woman had taken her under her wing when she lost her job. Of course, her aunt was a scion of an old money family, from which Paige's own mother had been disinherited. She could easily afford to be generous. She just seemed blissfully unaware that life had dealt her an extremely easy hand, and refused to accept that her comfortable position was anything but the inevitable result of intellect and virtue. Paige was long since sick of her overbearing attitude. Sadly, until she could find another job, she had little choice but to bear it.

“Now. Try again.”

“Amid-st the misss...

“Again.”

Paige felt like ripping out her own tongue and throwing it in the garbage. She spat and sputtered her way through the lines on the paper in front of her again and again. It wasn't wholly clear to her why her aunt needed to be here at all while she practiced. All it did was make her nervous, which was most of her problem to begin with. Back in high school, when she had had a good circle of friends who were patient and understanding, her stuttering had all but disappeared. Ever since she had moved out to Vermont to find work, however, it had been back with a vengeance.

Her stuttering was the reason she had lost her job, although of course that wasn't the stated reason. She had been trying to come to the defense of one of her co-workers, and had ended up being the subject of a particularly verbose customer complaint. She had tried to explain her side of the incident, but her stuttering essentially meant that anyone who didn't feel like listening to her didn't have to.

So, here she was. Sitting like a prisoner at her aunt's kitchen table, staring at a sheet of printer paper with a few lines of bad poetry written by some twisted sadist. Her aunt had found this little nugget of misery on an internet site, and had promptly decided that this was enough to qualify her as a speech therapist.

She heard a slight scraping news from upstairs, as though someone was opening and closing a set of drawers.

“Amid-st...amid...did you hear that?”

“Don't try to distract me. Just say the word properly. Listen to me: Amiiidst.”

“No really. Is...is...dammit, is somebody upstairs?”

“Don't curse, dear. It's vulgar. Now, try again. Amiiidst.”

“Seriously. I heard something. Are you sure no one is upstairs?”

“Better, but still not the lines I gave you.” said Aunt Bethany, tapping the sheet on the table.

“Helooo? Anyone home?” came a voice from upstairs.

Paige and Bethany both turned their heads suddenly.

“Who is there? Show yourself!” demanded Aunt Bethany.

And show themselves they did. Two feminine figures came down the stairs and drifted gracefully into the kitchen like two snowflakes caught in a light breeze. Paige and Bethany's eyes widened as they came. There was no question that the two visitors were otherworldly, supernatural beings. Their ears were pointed. Their eyes shone an impossibly vivid blue. Their bare feet never showed any inclination to come near the floor. One had her black hair tied into a set of pigtails. She had rich, dark skin and wore what appeared to be a race-car driver's bright red jacket. The other was taller, and had wispy brown hair at neck length. She wore what appeared to be a child's Halloween costume, blown up to adult size. She wore a hot pink cowgirl's hat on her head, her pink jacket and white gloves were festooned with white tassels, and she had a silver sheriff's badge pinned above her left breast.

“What are you doing in my house?” shouted Aunt Bethany angrily. “And are those...nappies?”

“Looking for black licorice...and, obviously, yes.” said the one in the racing jacket.

Now that she had a closer look, Paige saw that the logos that dotted the jacket were all brands of diapers, toys, and other childish products. The two women were indeed wearing nothing below the waist but thick disposables. One had race-cars across her front panel to match her jacket, and the other had pink ponies chasing one another across hers. Paige felt herself blush intensely at the sight of them. She could imagine how utterly mortified she would be to be seen wearing such a thing. The very thought made her heart race and her ears burn. And yet these two were hovering in front of her totally unashamed. If anything, they seemed quite pleased with themselves. Their eyes had a far-away quality, as though everything they saw was just a pleasant dream.

“Liquorice? What nonsense! Get out, both of you!” shouted Aunt Bethany.

“Oh my gawd! I love your accent!” gushed the one with the cowgirl hat.  “You sound like Maggie Smith!”

Aunt Bethany's face reddened. This was not the first time this had happened. By British standards, her accent was only moderately on the posh side, but here in America, she may as well have been the Dowager Countess of Grantham. This prompted most people to take her more seriously than they might have otherwise, but some people chose to treat her like a character from a television show instead of an actual human being. She took an extremely dim view of such people.

“Typical.” she spat under her breath.

Paige turned to her. “T-typical of...ffflying women in diapers?”

The two hovering figures looked at each other. “Huh.” said the one in the racing jacket. “I guess that is what we are.”

“Well in any event, I haven't got any liquorice, and you two would have no right to demand any from me even if I did. Go away.” said Aunt Bethany.

“No can do, I'm afraid.” said the one in the racing jacket.

“Are you suuuure you don't have any?” said the one with the cowgirl hat. “Because you really, really want some right now, if you catch my drift.”

Aunt Bethany was not amused. “I do not, as you say, 'catch your drift'. What on earth are you babbling about?”

“No licorice, and we have to punish you.” clarified the one in the racing jacket.

The one with the cowgirl hat spun around in mid-air and wagged her glossy padded ass in the air. “So unless you want to find yourself in one o' these suckers, I suggest you check around for some licorice.”

Aunt Bethany blanched visibly. Her eyes darted from side to side.

The one in the racing jacket blew a raspberry. “Lemme guess...are you gonna run out the door? Or maybe call the cops?”

“Ooh, ooh remember that guy who stabbed you with a butcher knife?” said the one with the cowgirl hat.

They shared a chuckle at the memory. “Oh, man! He's not gonna try anything like that again, believe you me!”

Aunt Bethany backed away, a look of terror settling over her. As silly as they looked, it was becoming clear that these were powerful, dangerous beings. Paige glanced between her aunt and the two floating apparitions. Would they really make them wear diapers, just because they didn't have any black licorice? Paige's heart raced, and her cheeks were blushing so intensely that it was almost painful. She felt...funny. Bethany turned and began opening and closing cupboards. As her Aunt began rifling through the pantry with increasing desperation, Paige found herself contemplating what being put back in diapers would feel like.

The one with cowgirl hat plucked the paper off the kitchen table and read it aloud. “"Amidst the mists and fiercest frosts, With barest wrists, and stoutest ...what is this? A poem?”

“It...it...it is a prac...a prac...goddammit, a prac-tice line. To help with my st...st...my problem.” said Paige.

“Oh, I get it.” said the one with the cowgirl hat. “All those S-T sounds. And this helps with that?”

Paige gave a sigh of exasperation. “Apparently. Sometimes.”

“Oof. There's a long story there, I'd wager.”

“More frus...frus...annoying than long.” said Paige wearily.

“Annoying and frustrating for me, perhaps.” said Aunt Bethany. She had returned from the pantry with a look of vicious triumph in her eyes. She presented a small rectangular tin to the two hovering visitors. “Now stop bothering my niece about her speech difficulties. Does this satisfy you?”

The one in the racing jacket took the tin from her and examined it quizzically. “Licorice-flavored breath mints...” she announced dubiously.

“Ooooh!” said the one with the cowgirl hat, sounding strangely excited. “A marginal case!”

“Hmmm. A judgment call, then. We might decide to accept these...or maybe not.” said the one in the racing jacket. She shook the tin. “Full...”

She turned it over and began reading the ingredients. Bethany crossed her arms and tapped her foot impatiently. “It says 'Black Liquorice' right there.” she muttered.

Paige looked preoccupied as the offering was examined. She jumped when she realized that the one with the cowgirl hat had drifted beside her without her noticing.

“What are you looking at?” she asked softly.

Paige blushed and immediately straightened up. “Huh? Oh, um, nothing.”

“Cuz it really looked like you were staring at my friend's butt.” whispered the hovering woman.

Paige's eyes went wide.

“Noticed you didn't exactly run off looking for licorice when I told you what might happen. One might almost suspect...” She let her voice trail off. Paige felt like her cheeks would burst.

Luckily, Bethany was too involved in tense negotiations to be aware of these proceedings.

“'Black Licorice-Flavored' it says. That's basically code for 'does not contain licorice'.” said the one in the racing jacket.

“What the hell could possibly taste like liquorice other than liquorice!” demanded Aunt Bethany

“We definitely don't accept any old anise-seed bullshit.” said the one in the racing jacket.

The one with the cowgirl hat floated behind her companion and rested her elbows across her shoulder. “Hmm, it does say 'natural flavors'.” she said in a suggestive tone.

“All flavors are natural.” muttered the one in the racing jacket. “Even monosodium glutamate.”

The the with the cowgirl hat cleared her throat noisily. The one in the racing jacket glanced over at Paige. Paige immediately glanced away. Aunt Bethany narrowed her eyes.

“What was that? What are you conspiring about?” she asked.

The one in the racing jacket straightened up. “I think we can let this...dubious offering slide through...this time.” she said carefully.

Aunt Bethany rolled her eyes. “My, how gracious of you.”

“We may have to adjust the rewards a bit to account for the...abnormality.” said the one with the cowgirl hat. Paige looked back and forth between the two visitors. They seemed to have completely traded sides in the argument. She wondered if they were communicating telepathically, or if they simply had the kind of unspoken understanding that long-time colleagues sometimes develop.

“Rewards? No one mentioned a reward.” said Aunt Bethany.

“Well, as we mentioned, it's sort of a marginal offering, so we couldn't do anything big. Still, here goes!”

The colorful diapers that the two women wore flared to life. As she watched, Paige realized that the shine they produced was not mere glossy plastic, but an active glow. Eerie bluish light poured over Paige and her aunt, as they stood transfixed. The two diapered women drifted dreamily around the kitchen. They divided the box of tiny white lozenges between them, chewing them up and swallowing them with an audible crunch and visible delight. They performed the motions with fluid grace and practiced ease, as though it were a choreographed dance or a ritual. Then they settled their diapered rears on each of Paige's cheeks. Bethany's face twisted in disgust, but she seemed unable to look away. Paige felt her heart race and her vagina moisten as the smooth plastic backing rubbed against her skin. She could feel the strange power of the two women settle over her, even as she felt their warm butts through the thick padding of their diapers.

“Your tongue is now free as the wind.” said the one in the racing jacket.

“Graceful as a dove” continued the one with the cowgirl hat.

“Sweet as honey.” said the one in the racing jacket, sighing with pleasure.

“Effortless, Smooth, and Fluent.” finished the one with the cowgirl hat.

Gradually, the strange light faded, and the two strangers withdrew their glistening butts.

“That was utterly revolting. What a shameful display. Are you alright, Paige?” asked Aunt Bethany, scowling at what she at just just witnessed.

“That was...interesting.” said Paige. Her eyes shot wide with shock at what she had just heard. Her voice was almost completely different. “Stupendous. Stratospheric.Statistical. Holy shit!”

Her tongue glided over every syllable perfectly. It was as though she had had a nail through her tongue her entire life, and it had just fallen out. "Amidst the mists and fiercest frosts, with barest wrists, and stoutest boasts, he thrusts his fists against the posts, and still insists he sees the ghosts." She recited, not even needing to look at the paper after struggling through the words for so long. Her tongue leapt from S to T and back again without the slightest tremor or tickle. It was utterly fluid and effortless.

Paige ran to the two hovering women and embraced them, pinning them against herself. Tears were in her eyes. “Thank you, thank you, thankyouthankyou!” she repeated.

“...don't mention it.” said the one in the racing jacket, chuckling and patting Paige's back.

“Is that it? Is that all we get?” asked Aunt Bethany.

The one with the cowgirl hat winced. The one in the racing jacket arched an eyebrow. “Oh? Is her highness not satisfied?”

“Of course not! I didn't get anything!” she spat.

“You just said how annoying and frustrating it was trying to deal with her speech impediment.” pointed out the one with the cowgirl hat. “Now you don't have to. A 'thank you' wouldn't kill you.”

Aunt Bethany crossed her arms. “All that means is that I have wasted a lot of time trying to teach her proper pronunciation for nothing. Where is my thanks for all that? And once again, your problem is solved without any meaningful effort on your part. You must be so proud.”

“Auntie! Stoppit! They were being nice!” said Paige insistently.

“Seriously.” said the one in the racing jacket. “You ought to be thanking her, as well. If it was just you here to meet us, we would have had you in pampers before you could say 'Yorkshire Pudding'. It would have taken a lot more than some breath mints to save you.”

“Then you are disgusting, reprehensible creatures!” said Bethany. “Paige, get away from those freaks!”

Paige looked uncertain for a moment, but she didn't budge an inch.

“Paige...just out of curiosity...” said the one with the cowgirl hat. “How would you feel about...joining us?”

Paige would have stuttered if she still could. “Join you? You mean...I could fly around, and wear...”

“Nappies. As your auntie would say.” confirmed the one in the racing jacket. “It's a pretty sweet deal. You don't get paid, but the hours are good, room and board is covered, you get magical powers and immortality, and free coffee. What do you think?”

“Absolutely not! Paige, how could you even consider such a thing? Look at these two reprobates!”

Paige did look. The two visitors were literally unearthly in their beauty. She wondered what it would feel like to fly through the air in a big, fluffy diaper. And what if this was her shot at living forever?

“...yeah, that sounds...good. Where do I sign?” she asked. She was surprised to hear herself say it, but the answer seemed obvious.