Abby – Chapter Seven
Days came and went, and none of it seemed important enough to catalog. I remembered waking up at ease, the pacifier still secured in my mouth. I was still dressed as I was when I went to sleep, but it no longer bothered me. Things seemed calmer. Everything was easier to accept. It was almost as if acceptance wasn’t necessary.
I never saw the maids again, or Daddy. Occasionally I would get glimpses of Alice, but she was so much taller than I remembered. I thought nothing of it, though.
It was easier to cry too. I realized that quickly. At first I would try speaking to Alice, but she couldn’t seem to hear me. When I discovered she would tend to whatever need I had if I began crying, I replaced the English language with sobs and whines. I never heard any of them though. There was no noise in my new world.
At first my knees would always hurt, but after a while the soreness dimmed. My bangs never fell in front of my face, either. I didn’t have to chew my food anymore or worry about spilling my drinks. I had been conditioned to stop crying when something was placed in my mouth. Even the urge to use the restroom didn’t surface. Everything had become simplistic.
However, something still didn’t feel right, as if a key component of my psychological makeup had gone missing. But that made no sense. Everything was wonderful. I hadn’t a care in the world. There were no worries or troubles or problems. Things were easy. Nonetheless, whenever I took a hard look at myself, I was never smiling. I couldn’t make heads or tails of this empty feeling. Even above all the simplicity, I had Alice. What more could I desire than the compassion she illustrated? One day was different than the others, though. Alice was back to her proper size and the soles of my feet took the pressure from my knees. I picked up the tray of drinks from the counter and carried them through the kitchen door toward the dance hall. The room was completely empty, but the lights were dimmed as if the dances had begun. I weaved my way around the dance floor. It made absolutely no sense, but my feet kept me on a specific route, dodging invisible obstacles, so it seemed.
The drinks gradually disappeared off the tray. I couldn’t explain the incidents, but I also didn’t care to. When the final drink vanished from the saucer I made my way back to the kitchen, walking this way and that to avoid crashing into nothing.
As I approached the doorway to the kitchen, a weight pressed down on my left shoulder. I was spun around, dropping the empty tray to the floor, and felt a gentle force against my lips.
Then in a sudden burst, noise brought havoc to my eardrums. The sounds were foreign to the silence I had grown so accustomed too. Simultaneously, the room became crowded with strangers in fancy outfits, including the boy who had his lips pressed to mine. Miles.
The empty void in my heart was sealed, but the simplicity was shattered. Just like the first time our lips met, I could feel my backside dampen. But this time was different. Instead of the warm sensation dripping down my legs it soaked between them. My butt felt wet, although I was standing upright, and I sensed the same moisture in the front. I had once again wet myself, but this time my dress was dry and Miles had no idea what I had done.
I couldn’t pinpoint how this could be possible, but at the moment it didn’t matter. What did matter was that I could kiss Miles without interruptions. Pulling his collar, I walked backwards until I was leaning against a wall out of sight from most of the guests. Miles had his hands on my hips and his lips on mine. He didn’t pull away until I ran out of breath. I couldn’t help it; after a few minutes of kissing him, my breathing was heavy. He laughed lightheartedly and flashed his symmetrical smile I’d missed so much.
“I thought you were ignoring me,” he admitted.
“No,” I responded, trying to catch my breath.
“I just didn’t see you.” It was the honest truth. Time had passed strangely since the last dance, but it seemed my awareness had returned.
“Flagging you down with my arms and screaming your name wasn’t noticeable enough?” he mocked.
“The kiss got my attention, didn’t it?” I countered, trying to keep the ‘you were invisible’ line to myself so he wouldn’t think I had lost my mind.
“I like the haircut,” he sincerely stated, keeping his hands on my hips.
“Haircut?” I nearly panicked, but I was getting better at maintaining certain casualness around Miles. Instead I smiled and shied away from the wall, leaning toward the hallway.
“Be right back,” I promised, thinking he’d leave if I stormed off again without giving an excuse.
“Bathroom break.”
“Idiot!” I yelled at myself as I nearly sprinted down the hallway.
“Bathroom break?” I questioned my own excuse.
“First of all, that’s a lie! I don’t want to start lying to Miles. Secondly, does he really care what my bathroom habits are?” I shut up. Talking to myself seemed crazy. Then I overanalyzed. The wet feeling after I had kissed Miles resurfaced in my mind. It didn’t take long for me to put two and two together.
“I suppose if he knew the truth” I mumbled aloud, “my bathroom habits may actually hold importance to him.” I sulked into the biggest bathroom in the house, the female guest bathroom. There were two unnaturally large bathrooms near the front room, one for males and the other for females, which were used as the guest bathrooms during the dances. They were strange because more than one person could occupy them at a time. But despite the company I may encounter in the bathroom, I had to check out the haircut Miles had mentioned. I also needed some confirmation on what I had on beneath my dress, and pulling up the hem in the hallway was not an option. Unfortunately, the bathroom door was locked. I was dumbfounded. I have grown accustomed to every single door in the entire house being locked, but never before had someone limited bathroom usage from our guests. But as I started to walk away, the door opened and two women in beautifully fancy dresses strode out, chatting amongst themselves. I reacted quickly, catching the handle before the door shut. I slipped inside and let the door close behind me. Three other women were already inside, standing in front of some of the mirrors, mumbling to each other. Managing to sustain a low profile with the group of conversationalists, I crept to the full-length mirror on the opposite wall.
Miles was right about my hair. It had been cut much shorter, just above my shoulders, even all around. A small, pink clip held my bangs to the side of my head. It was a haircut you would only see on a child, and it upset me. I took the clip out of my hair, but my bangs fell over my eyes. With my long hair it wouldn’t have bothered me, but now I couldn’t stand it. I had grown accustomed to having my hair out of the way, so I clipped it back into place.
And my outfit didn’t dispute the childishness. The pink dress I wore had no sleeves or frills or lace like my common dresses. Instead, it was designed in a little girl’s style. The loose floral printed fabric covered my shoulders, back, and chest. A matching sash tied around my stomach, and below it the flowery fabric fluttered past my hips. From where the floral material cut off, a white inner layer of silk descended a few inches lower. I was the perfect depiction of an overgrown toddler.
By now the guests at the mirror had noticed the unmistakably childish-looking girl staring at herself in the mirror, so I sulked into one of the stalls. I listened for a minute until their conversation continued, then reached for the hem of my dress.
My suspicions proved accurate, and I began to pout. The reason my backside still felt damp, the reason behind my slight waddle, and the reason why Miles wasn’t aware that I had wet myself was because underneath my dress I had on the same type of oversized diaper Alice had put on me a month ago.
My first instinct was to take it off, but after analyzing the situation I decided against it. Firstly, if I was in this diaper, it was a sort of punishment. If Alice or another maid found me without it on things would get worse, and I didn’t want to go back to the way I had been for the past month. Next, it’s not as if I had a pair of underwear handy, and I was not about to go back to Miles without something on under my dress. Lastly, and possibly most importantly, it seemed that I hadn’t overcome wetting myself when I kissed him. The diaper, although severely damaging my pride, permitted me to kiss him without the public humiliation. I concluded that it was best to get back to Miles. I didn’t know how long it had been or how far along the dance was. I flushed the toilet so the girls at the mirrors would believe my make-pretend bathroom session, and then went to the door. Of course, the handle wouldn’t turn, so I jiggled and twisted until my hands felt sore.
“What are you doing?” a woman behind me asked in an impatient tone. She had to have been one of the three that were occupying the mirrors.
“The door’s jammed,” I mumbled, turning the handle a little so she knew I wasn’t kidding. But she reached past me, spun the handle, and pushed the door open. I caught it with my foot before it closed again and blushed.
“I must have been turning it the wrong way,” I defended, but she rolled her eyes and went back to the mirrors.
“Stupid doors!” I mumbled to myself as I paced down the hallway. They never seem to open for me, and irritation was understating how I felt. When I got back, Miles was positioned against the wall where I had left him. The corners of his mouth were still held up. I returned a smile and attempted to diminish the waddling in my steps.
“Welcome back,” he commented politely.
“Glad to be back,” I honestly answered, since my many troubles seemed to melt away at that point.
“Care to dance?” he asked as he outstretched his hand toward me.
I shook my head, knowing full well the added thickness of the diaper wouldn’t allow me to dance properly. His smile faded, so I came up with another suggestion.
“I sort of wanted to talk to you,” I said, attempting enthusiasm. It didn’t work, so I added, “I missed you.”
“Okay. I have to talk to you anyway.” His smile didn’t come back. That made me anxious. I wouldn’t know what to say if he wanted an explanation for what happened on the balcony last month or why I got my haircut or why I was walking funny, but I did manage to lessen my nervousness a bit by telling myself that Miles is too much of a gentleman to bring up things like that. I took his outstretched hand and followed him to the staircase where we first met. Then we took a seat beside each other on the sixth step staring out at the crowd.
“So,” he began hesitantly, which nearly drove me to a panic attack.
“Do you remember the arrangement we made to see each other?” I did remember. On the balcony, before we kissed, we decided that three days after the dance he was going to visit me at noon and I would wait for him on the front porch. It was a date, one I didn’t show up to. Instead I was lost in my silent world of simplicity. That’s probably what he wanted to talk about.
“I’m so sorry!” I burst out, trying to keep my tears from slipping down my cheeks. It seemed so natural to cry.
“I forgot! Please don’t be upset!” He looked at me bewildered, which only added to my anxiety. Holding back my tears became increasingly difficult.
“What are you talking about?” There was no cruelty in his voice, only curiosity.
I spoke quieter, avoiding eye contact.
“I wasn’t on the porch at noon. I blew you off.” I shifted my eyes toward the ground just as my vision blurred and tears came down my cheeks. I didn’t deserve a boy like Miles; a boy so astounding, so elegant, so perfect. And what was I? The childishly dressed server at the local dances, who wouldn’t even bother showing up for a date she had arranged. Of course Miles would prefer someone else. He would prefer someone who behaved like an adult.
But, to my surprise, his laughter broke the silence. I didn’t understand, so I raised my head out of curiosity.
He was staring at the dance floor rather than at me, a first for Miles. I took the opportunity to wipe my eyes before he noticed I’d been crying. He was smiling again and I didn’t want to be the reason he stopped.
“I thought you were mad at me,” he explained, oppressing a chuckle.
“Perhaps you waited all day for me to arrive, and then finally gave up on me entirely, giving you reason not to acknowledge me on the dance floor. But you never showed up at all.” I was thoroughly confused. Had he not shown up? Had he forgotten as well? My puzzlement must have been apparent since he explained without me having to ask.
“I tried to come,” he sighed sincerely, turning his head to meet my eyes.
“I really did try. But when I was halfway through the forest on the same path everyone takes to come to these dances, a brown haired woman in a white gown stopped me. She said to turn around, and not return. I protested but…” I waited impatiently for the story to continue, but all that escaped his lips was a distant remark before we were interrupted.
“She had your eyes…”
The End of Abby – Chapter Seven.
If you want to read more stories about ABDL girls you can find a list here: Diaper Girls – Index
The story originally came from: https://www.dailydiapers.com/content/stories.html