Sissy Room

Many years ago I checked to see if Consumer Reports had rated adult diapers. I was a little surprised to see that they had. I found their review, which at the time consisted of adult diapers exist and my cousin's maid said they work. They did no testing, no examination, nothing but a couple of anecdotal stories of use. I will have to read the new review.

One of the rooms where I grew up, as in many older houses with upstairs chldrens' rooms, smelled like pee that had dried, when I was little there was also the smell of a rubber sheet that had been my blankie when I was 4 and 5. Also, when I stayed overnight at Anne and Linda's from age 6 to a bit before I turned 10,  their room also smelled like that. Linda was a bedwetter and I was put in diapers for the night since you had to go outside to get to the bathroom and Linda and I slept right on the rubber sheet while Anne slept in a separate bed. That did all kinds of things to me feelings as a little girl

Excellent chapter! Like all the previous chapters, very well-written. Seems like Alice is really losing patience with George.

5 minutes no heat.  Here’s one Lunar Cub out of the pack and another after fluffing in the dryer.

Here is the next chapter.  I plan on trying to get one more chapter out before the New Year.  Enjoy.. Chapter 55 - Victim, Not Accomplice Darlene and Laurisa stayed quiet while Avery slept, the heavy, sterile silence of the hospital room settling around them like a cloak. As they sat, Darlene continued to sit close to Avery’s bed, her hand resting lightly on the blanket near his hand, close to his chest, a gesture of silent anchoring. Her mind was a whirlwind of the recent conversations: the harrowing sight of Christy in her coma, Laurisa’s shocking revelation about Christy’s past trauma, and the monumental, life-altering commitment she was willing to make to Avery. She felt the physical reality of her decision—the throbbing pull of her body's denial and the fierce, protective instinct that had surfaced now entirely devoted to this young man. She couldn’t deny it. She wasn’t sure where it was coming from.  Was this all from the recent event with John that somehow triggered this, but when did she develop this towards Avery? Laurisa, across the room, was seemingly calm, scrolling through her phone, but her posture was rigid. She was building the mental framework for the difficult conversation they were about to have with Avery—a clinical approach to delivering a devastating truth while simultaneously offering a lifeline of support. She knew the conversation about Christy was necessary to preserve Avery’s long-term psychological integrity, but it felt cruel to introduce another trauma when his defenses were already shattered. She kept her mind sharp and keen on how to structure the coming conversation. Playing it over in here head.  She was also playing the next conversation over in her head on the regression with Avery approaching from a psychological benefit for Avery so that he would accept it.  She knew how delicate these conversations could be. The quiet was broken by the soft, rhythmic click of the door opening. A young nurse, Maya, who was there yesterday, followed by the neurosurgeon, Dr. Patel, whose quiet confidence was instantly reassuring. “Good morning, everyone,” Dr. Patel said, his voice a low, steady rumble that seemed to respect the fragile atmosphere of the room. He moved to Avery's bedside, his movements efficient and focused. “We’re going to slowly bring him up now and check his progress and status this morning.” Maya gently began the process, speaking to Avery in a soft, encouraging tone as she adjusted his IV. “Avery, time to wake up for us. You’ve had a good, long sleep.” Avery stirred, a low, guttural groan escaping his lips. His eyes fluttered open, blinking slowly against the soft room light, a slight panic began to fill his chest. He looked immediately for Darlene, his gaze hazy and unfocused, but finding her seemed to offer a measure of peace as he seemed to calm when he locked eyes with her. “Good morning,” Darlene murmured, moving closer. “We’re right here. Time to talk to the doctor.” Dr. Patel leaned in. “Avery, I need you to tell me where your pain is, okay? On a scale of one to ten.” Avery’s voice was a dry, raspy whisper with his mouth still filled on one side with cotton. “Head… six. Hand… six. Side… four.” The neurosurgeon began a careful examination, shining a penlight into his eyes, checking for pupil response, and asking basic questions to confirm his cognitive function. “Do you remember what day it is, Avery? Who is this lovely woman next to you?” “Wednesday,” Avery mumbled, his brow furrowed in concentration. He tilted his head slightly towards Darlene. “Darlene.” The simplicity of his answer made Darlene's heart clench with a complicated mix of relief and disappointment as she secretly wanted to hear “Mom” but knew it was too soon and out of place. Dr. Patel nodded, satisfied. He then moved to the metallic brace encasing Avery's dominant right hand. “This little piece of high tech is protecting your reconstruction. You're lucky to have such a prototype. We need to check the structural integrity before we decide on your next steps.” He picked up a small, hand-held electronic device—a sophisticated, custom-built electromagnetic scanner—and began passing it slowly over the surface of the cast. The device emitted a series of rapid, nearly inaudible clicks, instantly generating a 3D structural image on a small embedded screen. The doctor was looking for any internal shifts or complications in the complex wiring and plates supporting the shattered bones.  He then plugged it into a small port and also gathered some additional data. “The hardware looks stable,” Dr. Patel confirmed, turning the screen slightly to let Darlene and Laurisa see the skeletal images. “No signs of shift or localized inflammation in the hand, which we can’t manage. The bone is where it needs to be, and the micro pins are holding. That’s excellent news. The surrounding hand tissue is also taking to the new hardware fine.” He turned back to Avery, his expression thoughtful. "We've reviewed your progress, Avery, and everything is looking good given what you have gone through. Given the stability of your hand, the management of your other injuries, and your improving status..." He paused, turning to the nurse and Darlene. A brief discussion followed between the medical professionals. “Nurse Maya and I have confirmed that, pending a final consultation tomorrow morning, and good pain management through the day,” Dr. Patel paused, letting the silence hang in the air for a moment as he looked from Darlene to Avery. He then concluded with a warm, professional smile gracing his lips. “We feel you’ve progressed well enough that we can transition your care. We can remove the head and mouth gauze now and have you set up for discharge tomorrow morning.” A powerful wave of relief washed over Darlene. The hospital felt like a cage, and the thought of having Avery safe and sound under her own roof was a balm to her soul. This immediate relief, however, was followed immediately by a spike of intense anxiety. Avery is coming home. The true weight of the commitment—the long-term care, the constant vigilance, the responsibility for his emotional and physical recovery—settled heavily on her shoulders. She met Laurisa's gaze across the room. Laurisa, who had seen Darlene through so much in her life, gave a small, unwavering nod of reassurance, a silent message that said, We are in this together. Avery, sitting propped up in his bed, seemed to have missed the entire undercurrent of hope and anxiety. He just looked confused, his eyes wide and uncertain. "Go home? But... I can't do anything with this," he said, holding up his hand encased in a metal brace that stretched from his fingers to just past his wrist. He gestured with his chin towards the IV pole near his bed. "And John is still out there." His voice cracked with genuine fear, the underlying panic over the man who had put him here suddenly palpable and overriding any excitement about leaving. Darlene immediately reached out, taking his uninjured left hand, her grip firm and grounded. "You’re not going home to your apartment, Avery," she stated clearly, leaving no room for argument or negotiation. "You’re coming home with me. Laurisa, Ashley, and I have already worked out a plan for your recovery. We are going to have a nice room set up for you, and someone will be with you all the time. You’ll be safe with me, I promise." She squeezed his hand again, trying to pour her own resolve into him. "You just focus on resting, okay? We’ll handle everything else." “I... I don’t want to leave,” Avery started to stutter, his eyes darting from Darlene to the calm, white-coated figure of the doctor. His breathing became shallow, and a wave of raw terror washed over him, momentarily paralyzing his nerves. The fear was so intense that his bladder betrayed him, involuntarily letting loose a warm, shameful gush. A deep blush crept up his neck as he felt the immediate warmth spread across his crotch, followed by the surprisingly soft and absorbent sensation of his diaper rapidly taking in the liquid. “I am not well enough. I can’t... I need to stay here.” The hospital, with its locked doors and constant presence of security and staff, represented a physical barrier that John could not breach in his mind. His apartment, and even Darlene's house, felt dangerously exposed in comparison. Avery, looking so desperately nervous, wasn’t something Laurisa had fully thought about. In his mind, the hospital offered him a tangible, physical sort of security that protected him from John—a fortress. The clean, sterile environment, the rules, the nurses constantly coming and going—all of it contributed to a sense of order and safety. Darlene’s place, no matter how loving and secure, might not offer that same feeling of invulnerability. He wasn't just afraid of pain management or logistical issues; he was afraid of being an easy target again. The trauma of the attack was still a raw, open wound. Laurisa quickly stepped in. “Avery, look at me,” Laurisa said, kneeling beside his bed, her voice soft but firm. “We hear you. We understand that this feels like losing your shield. But we’re not going to let anything happen to you. We won't leave you unprotected.” Avery’s eyes, wide with fear and tears running down as he clutched his stuffed dragon subconsiously, flickered to Darlene, then back to Laurisa. “But… It’s a hospital. There are cameras and security guards. At Darlene’s house, it’ll just be… open. I have been there, and you can’t lie to me.” He said in a panicked voice.  “It won’t be ‘just open,’ Avery,” Darlene interjected gently, stepping closer. “My place might not have flashing police lights, but it has us. And we’re going to be smart about this. We'll set up a plan. We’ll make it as safe, or safer, than this room. I promise” “She’s right, Avery,” Laurisa affirmed, taking his hand. “We’ll figure it out. We’ll find a way to make you feel safe, truly safe. We can put alarms on the doors, a tight security system in, keep the blinds closed, have a code word—whatever you need. This isn't a final decision, it's a transition, and we’ll manage it one step at a time. It’s okay to be scared. But it’s going to be okay because we are all in this together, and we won’t stop until you feel secure.” Darlene quickly replied. “I already have a security system, but I will send someone out today and have it reviewed and beefed up.” The doctor, who had been quietly observing, nodded. “That’s a very important point, Avery. We can ensure all medical safeguards are in place, but your emotional security is paramount to your recovery. A supportive environment can sometimes be the best medicine. We’ll coordinate with your loved ones to ensure all safety measures are addressed before you’re discharged. I can talk to the local police department to see what we can do.” Avery looked at the faces around him—Laurisa’s steady compassion, the doctor’s professional concern, and Darlene’s fierce, protective love. A tiny, almost imperceptible knot of tension eased in his shoulders. “You really think we can?” He said softly, not looking all that confident about it, but accepting their response as he kept the dragon close to his chest, his heart still racing in fear. “I know we can,” Laurisa whispered, squeezing his hand. “No one is getting near you. We promise.” A powerful wave of emotion washed over Avery, the news of discharge being an unexpected, overwhelming relief that broke through his remaining defenses. He leaned into Darlene, burying his face against her side and crying for a while, clutching the stuffed animal to his chest. His voice was muffled when he finally spoke, "I'm scared, Darlene, but I trust you. I feel your warmth." Avery looked at her, his eyes wide and vulnerable, a silent question passing between them. He simply nodded, the fear in his eyes slowly receding as the absolute promise of safety Darlene represented settled over him once more. Dr. Patel offered a final, reassuring nod. “We’ll see you tomorrow morning, Avery. Keep up the good work.” With a respectful inclination of his head to Laurisa and Darlene, he exited the room, leaving Ashley, the nurse, to manage the immediate next steps. “Alright, all the big decisions are made,” Nurse Maya said, her tone professional but warm, as she pulled up a rolling stool next to Avery’s bed. “Now for the part that will make you feel a bit more like yourself.” She gently began to snip the tape holding the thick, sterile gauze in place around the crown of his head. “This is coming off, and then we’re going to get this awful gauze out of your mouth.” Darlene watched, holding Avery’s hand tightly as Maya meticulously unwound the layers. The removal of the head bandage revealed a clean scar that arced along his forehead and disappeared into his hairline. It was healing now.  It was a stark reminder of how close he had come to a different, more permanent kind of injury. Next, Maya carefully began to remove the wads of gauze from the inside of his mouth, a necessary precaution following the surgery, but one that made talking agonizing. Avery flinched, biting down instinctively on the last piece before letting Maya coax it out. The instant it was free, he took a deep, shuddering breath, the first truly unencumbered breath he’d taken in days. “Better?” Maya asked, handing him a cup of water with a straw. He nodded, managing a small, pained smile. “So much better. Thank you.” He took a slow, deliberate sip of water, the liquid feeling cool and foreign. Maya rested a gentle hand on his arm, her expression softening with genuine concern. She let a moment of quiet settle, giving him space to adjust to the physical change. “Just sit with that for a minute, Avery. I know we’ve thrown a lot at you—surgery, discharge plans, and a lot of conversation. How does all of this actually sit with you right now? No need to be brave, just tell me how you’re feeling, talking to Darlene and Dr. Malaise.” Avery looked from Darlene, who squeezed his hand, to Laurisa, who gave him a supportive, clinician’s smile. “I’m… relieved about going to Darlene’s. It’s hard to think about going back to my apartment with John still out there.” He swallowed hard, his eyes briefly flicking to the empty spot where the gauze had been. “And I’m just trying to keep up. My head is still ringing, but… I feel safe. Having them here makes it feel less… jagged.” He met Darlene’s eyes. “It feels right.” “That’s exactly what we need to hear, honey,” Darlene whispered, stroking his hand. After Nurse Maya left, the room fell into a tense, anticipatory silence. Darlene and Laurisa exchanged a brief, weighted glance—a silent agreement that the time for difficult honesty had arrived. Avery clicked the morphine buttons a few times as he felt relieved to have the cotton out of his mouth. Avery, now feeling the first subtle waves of his morning pain medication, looked more settled, but the vulnerability in his eyes remained. He had just adjusted to the news of his discharge and the unexpected comfort of staying with Darlene, and a small, hopeful smile had just touched his lips. Darlene gently settled onto the edge of the mattress beside him, and Laurisa pulled her chair closer on the opposite side, forming a protective, inescapable triangle around him. Darlene gently stroked Avery's hair, her touch a comforting anchor in the storm of his anxiety. “I will do absolutely anything and everything you need to feel completely safe and secure in my home. I know, I truly know, that leaving this place is terrifying. It's a massive, frightening step, but it is a necessary first step on the path to recovery, a step we absolutely have to take.” She paused, looking into his eyes with deep empathy. “You can’t stay here forever, my dear. And I understand that going back to your apartment alone right now is not just scary—it’s unthinkable. I would never, ever expect you to face that kind of fear on your own. I wouldn't want you to, even for a moment. Please, let me be your shelter. I want you to come home with me. We will face this transition together, at your pace. My house will be a sanctuary, Avery. I'll put locks on the doors you choose, we can keep the lights on all night—anything. Just say the word. Just say you’ll come.” A powerful wave of emotion washed over Avery, the news of discharge being an unexpected, overwhelming relief that broke through his remaining defenses. He leaned into Darlene, burying his face against her side and crying for a while, clutching the stuffed animal to his chest. His voice was muffled when he finally spoke, "I'm scared, Darlene, but I trust you.”  Laurisa watched the embrace for a while as she sat there close by, ready to say something if needed to.   Once the calm came back to the room after about 30 minutes of silence. Darlene finally spoke, her voice hushed and cautious, the words difficult to force out as she struggled to keep her composure. "Avery, honey, we have something we need to talk to you about," she started, while Avery was still leaning against her chest, clutching the stuffed dragon. Avery looked at the two of them, sensing the shift in the atmosphere—the sudden, focused gravity—and his nervous system immediately went into high alert. “What is it?” he asked, the newly ungauzed voice shaking slightly. “Did something happen with John? Did they find him?” Laurisa leaned forward, her expression moving from sisterly warmth to clinical seriousness, ready to anchor the truth. “It’s not about John, Avery, but it’s about someone else, too. Someone you know from work. Christy.” Avery blinked, his confusion deepening. “Christy? She’s okay, isn’t she? She’s the nicest person. Is she coming to see me… is she worried about me?” Darlene took a shaky breath, her fingers stroking the back of his head. “Avery, John did something terrible. He didn’t just attack you. Before he got to you, he attacked Christy to get to her security badge to get to you.” The words hung in the air, heavy and lethal. Avery’s mind, already overloaded from trauma, seemed to stutter. He stared at Darlene, a tiny, disbelieving laugh bubbling up, quickly extinguished by the terror in their faces. “No. No, you’re lying,” he shouted, the words tearing through his throat. He tried to pull his hand from Darlene’s grip, but she held firm. “He wouldn’t! Christy? Why? She never did anything to anyone!” “He did, Avery,” Laurisa confirmed, her voice staying level, a steady drone against the rising panic. “He found her in the garage in her car before anyone arrived at work, and he attacked her. She’s in the hospital. She’s in a coma.” The word 'coma' detonated in the small room. Avery’s face drained of all color, going stark white against the dark bruises that still marked his jaw. A low, wounded sound, not quite a cry, escaped him, and he violently kicked the covers off his legs, a furious, helpless gesture of rejection. He scrambled backward against the headboard of the hospital bed, as far from their truth as he could get. “No! It’s my fault! It has to be my fault!” Avery was shaking uncontrollably, his nineteen-year-old body dissolving into a child’s tantrum of pure grief and fury. “He was coming for me! He did this because of me! If I had just stayed quiet! If I had just left my job! If I hadn't made him mad! I should have quit.” Tears, thick and hot, finally broke, streaming down his cheeks and soaking into the pillow. He screamed a raw, incoherent syllable of rage, slamming his brace onto the mattress with a heavy thud. Pain shivered up from his hand through his shoulder from this, but it still did not stop him as he cried out in pain. He kicked off the thin hospital covers with a sudden, restless movement, as if trying to free himself from a heavy weight. The action immediately exposed the thin, pale blue hospital gown, which had ridden up past his stomach. The material clung damply to his skin, revealing far more than intended, including the full outline of a large, soaked diaper beneath. The plastic backing of the incontinence brief was visibly strained and swollen with moisture, a stark, humiliating testament to his current vulnerability and lack of control. “Avery, stop. Listen to me,” Laurisa commanded, cutting through his distress with the sharp, professional clarity she reserved for acute crisis. “This is not your fault. John is a predator. He made his choices. You are his victim, Avery, not his accomplice. Do you hear me? You are a victim!” “No, you’re wrong—it was my fault!” Avery shouted back at Laurisa, the raw frustration in his voice echoing off the sterile hospital walls. He shoved the bedside tray table with an unnecessary amount of force, the plastic wheels squealing in protest as it rolled rapidly away from him, clattering against the door frame of his private room near the ICU wing. The sound was sharp and jarring, a perfect accompaniment to the storm brewing inside him. "Everywhere I go, I cause problems. It is me. I am the problem!" he roared, the final words cracking with a pain that went far deeper than his physical injuries. He threw his head back against the pillow, his jaw locked tight, every muscle in his body rigid. The tantrum, fueled by fear, guilt, and the crushing weight of his near-fatal accident, was escalating rapidly, pushing him to the brink of hysteria. Tears of furious self-pity stung the corners of his eyes, blurring the edges of the brightly lit room and making Laurisa's heartbroken face an agonizing smear of color. He just wanted to be left alone with his self-hatred, but his body was betraying him with this pathetic, uncontrolled outburst. Laurisa took a slow, steadying breath, her clinical training kicking in to override the personal pain his words inflicted. His current state was a classic defense mechanism, a desperate attempt to regain a sense of control by assuming all the blame. "I understand you feel that way right now," she said, her voice low and even, cutting through his roar without fighting it. She took a step closer, maintaining a non-threatening distance, and kept her hands visible and relaxed. "But I need you to listen to me for a moment. You are safe. What you are experiencing—this guilt and fear—is a completely normal psychological response to trauma. It's called catastrophic thinking. Your mind is trying to make sense of something terrible by assigning a reason, and right now, it's chosen you. It's not the truth, but it is how your brain is trying to protect you." He didn't open his eyes, but his rigid posture softened infinitesimally. "Don't... don't give me your textbook bullshit diagnosis, Laurisa," he ground out, the words laced with exhaustion. "It's not just a textbook diagnosis," she countered gently. "It's a lifeline. It means what you're feeling is temporary and treatable. You didn't cause the storm, and you're not a problem. You're a patient who went through a terrible accident, and now you are healing. Physical wounds and emotional ones. Can you just breathe with me? Just one deep breath, right now." She waited, her own breath deepening in an exaggerated, calming rhythm. She knew that meeting his emotional outburst with calm, factual reassurance was the only way to pull him back from the edge. The words struck him with a sickening, audible force. Avery made a small, choked sound, a low, keening noise of pure devastation. His body tensed, a full-body tremor shaking him violently against Darlene. He wasn’t just upset; he was emotionally shattered, the news compounding the existing trauma and tearing the fragile sense of safety he’d just found. The rhythmic beeping of the monitoring machines suddenly seemed too loud, too insistent. As he recoiled from the news, a new, sharp wave of distress hit him, a deep-seated shame that manifested as a desperate, childish thrashing. “No! No, no, no, no!” he cried out, his voice raw and strangled, the denial a desperate scream against reality. The physical motion, combined with the spike of fear, forced a hot flush of immediate, crushing shame through him as the hospital bed's sheet quickly darkened beneath his hips. He was in a wet diaper, and the adult Avery, the one who was supposed to be a genius and an independent man, was fully present for the humiliation, compounding the agony of the news about Christy. He tried to pull away from Darlene, his face contorting in an effort to hide the evidence of his regression and his distress. Darlene, however, did not flinch, not even for a fraction of a second. The sight of the wet patch and the smell of the urine were completely irrelevant, lost against the monumental pain in his eyes. Her love and fierce protectiveness, a feeling she had just decided to fully embrace, superseded all other concerns. She simply held him tighter, cradling his head against her shoulder, shielding his panicked face from the world. Her own heart was a tight, agonizing fist of worry, but she knew she had to be the immovable anchor. He is safe, and I will not leave him, she repeated in her mind, adopting Laurisa’s protocol. Laurisa acted instantly, her voice cutting through the noise with calm, steady precision—the voice of a regulator. She leaned in, focusing only on him, blocking out all else. “Avery. Look at me. Avery, look at my eyes,” she commanded, not harshly, but with a deep, non-negotiable authority. When his terrified eyes flickered up to meet hers, she continued, her voice dropping to a low, rhythmic murmur. “Your body is betraying you right now, and that’s terrifying. But I need you to focus. We are going to breathe. Only breathe. You are safe. You are right here.” She held up one hand, demonstrating. “Follow my hand, Avery. Deep, slow, long breath in through your nose for four seconds.” She moved her hand up, slow and steady. “And hold it for one second… and let it out slow, slow, slow through your mouth, pushing all the dark, scary air out for six seconds.” Her hand moved down, a languid, guiding motion. Avery, his logic-driven mind desperately seeking any kind of external control, was involuntarily captured by the rhythm. His breath was ragged, hitching on residual sobs, but he obeyed. In… two… three… four… Darlene, holding him, felt the tremors in his body gradually lessen. She took her own breath, mirroring the rhythm, her hand stroking his hair, her own panic subsiding as she focused entirely on being his calm, warm presence. The image of the soaked diaper, the messy reality, vanished under the absolute purity of her protective instinct. He needs me. That is all that matters. The fear for him was still immense, but it was now a focused energy—the resolve of a mother, not the paralysis of a friend. Laurisa kept the hypnotic rhythm going, her voice unwavering. “Good, Avery. You are doing so well. Feel Darlene’s warmth. Anchor to her. She is your safety. Again. In, two, three, four…” Slowly, agonizingly, Avery’s breathing smoothed out, his chest rising and falling with the rhythm of Laurisa’s voice. He was still pressed into Darlene’s side, the wetness an unspoken, accepted reality, but the screaming denial was gone. The genius was quiet, the child was exhausted, and all that remained was a nineteen-year-old man, psychologically regressed, whose deepest comfort was the undeniable, physical presence of his mother-figure. He rested his cheek against her shirt near her breast, his small, shaky breaths falling into a new, safe cadence. He was calm, anchored, and utterly dependent. “But… but she was so kind to me,” he choked out, his voice now a desperate, raw whisper that broke Darlene’s heart. “She’s the one person who… who always talked to me. She was nice. And now she’s… alone?” He looked at Darlene, his eyes wide and pleading. “I have to see her! I need to see her right now! I need to tell her I’m sorry. I have to tell her… I have to tell her I didn’t mean for this to happen!” Darlene immediately placed a stabilizing hand on his chest. “Whoa, whoa, hold on, Avery. You are not going anywhere right now. We are not apologizing for being a victim. And you are not seeing her yet.” “But you said… You said she’s alone! We can’t let her be alone!” he pleaded, his breathing ragged, fighting against her hand. “I need to go! Now!” “You will see her, Avery, I promise you, but not right now,” Darlene insisted gently but firmly, meeting his panicked gaze. “First, we need to clean you up, and you need to eat breakfast, and then we will talk about the best, safest way for you to go. You need strength, not panic, to be there for Christy. We are going to put a safety plan around this, and that starts with you eating something.” Laurisa backed her up, her voice calm and absolute. “She is stable, Avery. A few more hours will not change her condition, but it will change your state. We are doing this our way: with control, not chaos. You need to process this first. We will go after breakfast. That is the final decision.” Avery sank back into Darlene’s chest, defeated, his chest heaving with sobs. He squeezed his eyes shut, his entire body trembling as the full, awful reality of Christy’s fate—and his supposed role in it—washed over him. The immediate urgency to move was gone, replaced by a profound, agonizing grief. He lay there, his fragile mind struggling to integrate this new, horrific trauma. "Now, let's get you out of that old diaper and into a nice, fresh one," Darlene announced, her voice cheerful but firm. She was careful to say it right in front of Laurisa, trying to normalize the situation for Avery, as he was going to get changes more regularly around her. The goal was to help him grow accustomed to the fact that both she and her sister were fully aware of his need for diapers, and she may need her help handling his changes on occasion. Avery, still feeling the deep embarrassment of the situation, remained silent, his gaze fixed on the ceiling, wishing the floor would swallow him whole. Laurisa stood quietly nearby, offering a supportive presence, hoping her calm demeanor would help ease the awkwardness for the young man. Avery, still feeling the deep embarrassment of the situation, remained silent, his gaze fixed on the ceiling, wishing the floor would swallow him whole. Laurisa stood quietly nearby, offering a supportive presence, hoping her calm demeanor would help ease the awkwardness for Avery. As Darlene efficiently unfastened the sides of the wet diaper, a profound wave of heat washed over Avery's face. His body was a cage of tension, his muscles rigid as he lay utterly exposed. It was one thing for Darlene, his rescuer, to see him like this, but another entirely for Laurisa, a professional stranger, to be a silent witness. The sound of the plastic backing crinkling, the gentle, swift slide of the soaked padding being removed, and the immediate rush of cool air on his sensitive skin made him feel smaller and more helpless than he had since his ordeal began. Every part of him screamed to disappear. Darlene, ignoring his silent distress, began the meticulous cleaning process. With practiced, gentle movements, she took several soft cloths and thoroughly wiped him down, ensuring every patch of irritated skin was clean. She then carefully applied a small, thick layer of rash cream to a few sensitive areas, a cool, soothing sensation that offered him a fleeting moment of relief. Following the cream, she picked up the container of baby powder, its scent instantly familiar, and carefully shook a small cloud onto him, delicately smoothing the excess into his skin. Laurisa, meanwhile, focused intensely on the corner of the room, on a small crack in the ceiling tile, anywhere but the bed. She kept her hands clasped in front of her, her expression intentionally blank and professional, a fortress of calm. This is a clinical observation. He is a patient. He is a child in this moment, she thought, repeating the mantra in her mind to maintain her sisterly support without causing him further shame. She needed to convey, through her deliberate lack of focus, that this was simply a routine, unemotional procedure—a necessary part of his healing that held no judgment for her. But even as she tried to detach, she couldn't help but register the soft sound of Darlene wiping him down, the faint, clean scent of the baby powder that followed, and the palpable tension radiating from Avery. It was a stark, humbling image of absolute dependency, and a powerful confirmation of the profound psychological work they were about to undertake. Darlene, oblivious to the silent battle of wills and shame, finished the task with a loving, decisive pat to the new, thick padding. “All done, sweetie. Now, wasn't that better?” she cooed, her tone light and affirming. Avery finally dropped his gaze from the ceiling, meeting Darlene's eyes for a fleeting second, the vulnerability and a flicker of gratitude a secret exchange between them. He offered a minuscule, almost imperceptible nod, still unable to speak, and let his head sink back onto the pillow, the clean, dry feeling a small, immediate relief he couldn't deny. A short while later, breakfast finally arrived. It was the same fare as before: a nutrient-packed smoothie and a small cup of smooth applesauce. Darlene carefully unpacked the tray and immediately began to assist Avery with the meal. The straw provided for the smoothie was notably large, designed to allow a substantial amount of the thick, fruity drink to pass through easily when he began to suck it. Avery, though still mortified by his lack of control and the need for constant assistance, was growing hungry. He reluctantly took the straw. Darlene watched him, gently encouraging him with soft words. Once the smoothie was mostly gone, she picked up the small plastic spoon and began to feed him the applesauce, offering each spoonful with a patience that was both comforting and, for Avery, a stark reminder of his current helplessness. After the simple, comforting food had settled in his stomach, a sense of quiet anticipation filled the small hospital room. Laurisa, who had momentarily stepped out, returned pushing a standard hospital wheelchair. Its metallic frame and padded seat seemed to signal the next, pivotal step. “You ready to go see Christy?” she asked gently, her voice low and encouraging. Darelen moved closer to Avery’s bedside, offering a steady hand to help him transition. “Let’s get you up, slow and easy,” she murmured. Avery nodded, his eyes wide with a mixture of fear and determination. Every movement had to be executed with careful precision to avoid snagging or kinking the tubing connected to his IV bag, which hung innocuously on its stand, a silent, essential companion. They helped him pivot and slide into the wheelchair, a small wince escaping his lips as he adjusted to the shift in position. Once he was settled, he gripped the armrests, his knuckles white. The reality of what they were about to do—to face Christy in her current, fragile state—hit him fully. A wave of nervous dread washed over him, making his voice shaky as he looked up at them. “What if I say the wrong things?” he asked, the anxiety palpable. “She’s been through so much. I don’t want to upset her or make things worse. What do I even say? You said she could possibly hear me in her coma.”  His worry was understandable. The gravity of Christy’s situation was a heavy shadow in the hospital halls, and the simple act of speaking to someone so broken felt like navigating a treacherous minefield. He was terrified of causing more pain with a clumsy word or an ill-timed silence. Darlene leaned close to his ear. “Just look at me, Avery. Just look at my face. You are safe. We are on a mission to help a friend. We’ve got this.”  Darlene swiftly pulled the bottom of his thin hospital gown down, smoothing the fabric over his lower body. Her action was quick, efficient, and wholly protective, aimed at ensuring that the thick, tell-tale bulk of the adult diaper remained completely concealed. It was the least she could do to preserve a sliver of his dignity.  “Just look at me, Avery. Just look at my face. You are safe.” Her grip on his shoulder was firm, a small anchor in the storm of his panic. "We are on a mission to help a friend. We’ve got this." Her eyes, usually sparkling with mischief, were serious, filled only with unwavering focus and reassurance, mirroring the strength he so desperately needed to borrow. “We’re right here, Avery,” Laurisa affirmed, her voice a steady balm. “And we are so proud of you for having the courage to do this for her.” They moved slowly down the silent hallway, Avery’s head resting back against the headrest, his eyes fixed on Darlene's profile. He was utterly terrified, but anchored, moving through a world that was suddenly and violently jagged, but held steady by the two women at his side.