PeculiarChangeling

Chapter 31 Two weeks later (Hazel, on your right!) Daniel called the warning automatically, eyes half shut and flitting from side to side as he tracked the motion of his coven and team. He’d grown to enjoy Voxavin more than he’d ever expected. Not only was it the best demonstration of how much he’d grown–from struggling to levitate an orb, to matching volleys of goop and raising shields with the okayest of them–but it was a chance to enjoy some good, old-fashioned, masculine dominance. His coven may have only been first and second years, but amongst that peer group, they were pretty damned good. Sitting in a coven, just providing power, Daniel didn’t particularly care for being the familiar, but Voxavin was different. Here, the familiar wasn’t just a relay, or even just a source of information. He was more like the tech guy in a heist movie, directing all the pieces into place. Conceptually, he was playing a video game, it’s just that instead of controlling a little collection of pixels on a screen, he was instructing his teammates on where to go. Or…at least, trying to tell his teammates where to go. Hazel heard his warning, but instead of following his command and ducking to safety, she turned left and snapped her wand in an attempt to counter attack the approaching girls from the opposing coven. Instead of taking them by surprise, though, she walked right into a volley of mana and Daniel lost his connection to her mind. (Hazel’s down. Mathilde, you’ll have to play defense over there, we can’t make progress on the left.) Mathilde’s mental response came back with confidence. (Got it.) (Cassie, Asami, two girls just took out Hazel, they’re pushing towards me now. See if you can get behind them in a pincer move. Radha, it looks like that left corridor is totally open. Wait for my signal, but you might be able to make a dash for their base.) They didn’t acknowledge, but they didn’t need to. When the two of them moved, Daniel saw it happen. He was learning all the different ways to approach the game. Sometimes, the hex would be a mostly-open courtyard, a six-sided play field with long unobstructed lines of sight. Other times, the cover and pathways would be dense and winding, a maze that was difficult to navigate, let alone make a mental map of. Having the whole coven work together could create a powerful, nigh-unstoppable force, but that also created a massive point of failure, and if they got pinned down, they were easy to flank. Splitting up made them vulnerable to being picked off one by one, but with coordination, they could control the whole hex. Either way, it was his choice: as the familiar, he was the chessmaster controlling the whole game. It wasn’t a matter of out-dueling the opposing coven, it was a matter of out-thinking and out-communicating them. Every match started by surveying the terrain, learning the layout of the random array of walls that made up a voxavin hex, and then deciding the best approach to steal the opponent’s flag and destroy their team. A surge of triumph rolled through Daniel as his plan unfolded. Even without Hazel, the rest of his team managed to coordinate what they were doing. Mathilde played the mouse to the other coven’s cat, leading the opposing pair of witches deeper into the hex maze, and once they were isolated, Cassie and Asami pounced and got behind them. In seconds, the game turned from a six-on-five to a five-on-four in their favor, but even better, the skirmish drew the other team’s attention. A brawl broke out between the remaining members of both covens, and in the chaos, nobody was counting heads. (Radha, go, now!) The last member of their coven broke into a sprint and got around the side of the arena unopposed. Only the opposing team’s familiar was there to fight back, and while she did manage to get her wand out and even fight back, it wasn’t enough: When the opposing familiar began to focus on a duel, she lost focus on the battle at large. Even though she managed to stalemate Radha, taking potshots from behind cover, the tide of the game turned as the rest of her coven melted without coordination or communication. Ten minutes later, the coven shared a round of giddy post-victory high fives. It was only a scrimmage, a practice game coordinated by coach Glinse, but that didn’t make it any less sweet to win. “Do you think we should try out to be a real team?” Cassie asked, as the six of them stretched and cooled down from PE. “We’re doing pretty good.” Hazel raised her head so she could look down her nose at Cassie, and spoke in a loose-but-recognizable imitation of their coach. “Excellence and success in Voxavin is a surefire path to academic achievement, you know.” “I’m not saying we would, like, go pro, but I wouldn’t mind at least playing the local games,” Cassie continued. “There’s several scores of covens, and only sixteen spots for teams,” Mathilde warned. “Most groups with only first and second years don’t make it in.” “‘Scores’?” Daniel asked. “Are you about to lead a battle against the Confederacy?” Before the quip could be acknowledged, Radha tossed in, “It can’t hurt to at least try out. Worst case scenario, what do we lose?” Asami chimed in, adding the final voice to the conversation. “If everyone is down, I think we should do it. Anyone against?” Daniel was about to voice his assent, when a familiar but frustrating twinge hit him and the humiliating spread of warmth and weight in the seat of his diaper told him it was about time to get back to his room. “I’m–um, I’m down.” Everyone reacted, though their responses were mild, sympathetic blushes or discreet glances away. It was too quick for there to be any smell, they’d just grown to recognize the way his voice wavered and his face flared red whenever he had an accident. As he shuffled his feet and waited for the accident to be over, Asami asked, “Who’s turn was it?” “Not mine,” Hazel said quickly. “I can go, if we’re not sure,” Cassie added. “I want to go back to my room anyways to get some books.” “Jen,” Daniel supplied, thankful that nobody commented on his subtly bow-legged stance or the new odor that wafted from beneath his skirt. “We have PE at the same time, so she’s walking me back to my room.” “Are you talking about me?” Jen added, half jogging over to them. As she got up by Daniel, her nose wrinkled, and she asked, “You want to get back pretty soon, I imagine?” “Yeah,” Daniel replied. Glancing back at his coven, he said, “See you all at dinner?” That got a round of nods, and he turned to waddle away with Jen, trying to avoid any squelching between his thighs so that cleanup wouldn’t be too difficult. As they left the gym, Jen asked, “How’s progress on the charm coming, by the way?” Daniel sighed and shook his head. “Rachel’s getting in the way. Professor Smyth was fine with me using the enchanting supplies, but she argued that it’s not a necessary tool for my education, so I shouldn’t be able to use school supplies to make it, and the dean straight up ignored me when I tried to get her to help.” “That’s stupid,” Jen said. “Why not just order one, though?” “Perfume charms are stupid expensive,” Daniel admitted. “I borrowed a catalog from Cassie, and a decent one is like…two weeks of my summer job. I get that it’s a one-off expense, but come on.” “Yeah, welcome to being a girl. Makeup in general isn’t cheap.” Jen paused, then said, “Or…I’m not saying you’re a girl, just that that’s a girl-related thing.” “No, it’s fine, I know what you meant,” Daniel assured her, before putting two and two together. “Did you talk to Cassie about our conversation a couple weeks ago?” “No, but I talked to Ismella,” Jen explained. “I finally went to go talk to her about using other people’s bodies without permission, and she said you’d already gone over it with her, plus her apology seemed sincere. You did make a pretty girl at our entry exams, by the by.” Daniel rolled his eyes. “I don’t know if saying ‘thank you’ would just compel you to make another joke, so I’m not going to dignify that with a response at all.” “You just did,” she teased, and they both laughed. They made small talk until they’d returned to the dorms, at which point Jen hesitated, lingering by his door. “I know you need a bit of time to clean up, but…I’ve got a free period, and your next class isn’t for like an hour, right?” Daniel nodded, excited at the possibilities she was implying. “Yeah, why?” She bit her lip and batted her eyelashes, then dropped an especially corny line. “I thought you might want some tutoring.” Nodding a second time, Daniel enthusiastically said, “I just need ten minutes.” “Last time you barely needed one.” “Ouch.” “Sorry, too mean?” “Nah, you’re fine.” “Get changed, I’ll just be out here. Let me know once you’re all clean.” “Absolutely.” … Another week later Daniel, Cassie, Mathilde, Radha, Asami, and Hazel stood together in rapt uncertainty, along with several-score other covens all sharing the same emotions. They were all sticky with sweat and goopy mana, their uniforms dirty from a day of exertion and play. Daniel’s diaper felt especially heavy with mana that’d dripped down his back and soaked in, but there hadn’t been time to clean up before the announcements were made, and he wasn’t about to miss this. “We’re not gonna make it,” Radha said. “I screwed up those passes at the end, and Glinse noticed.” “It’s fine,” Mathilde assured her. “Don’t worry about it.” “The team name we submitted was stupid,” Hazel added. Coach Glinse stalked up onto the great hall stage, looming over the sixty-odd covens who’d tried out to play in the Voxavin League. Radha was probably right, the odds of a team composed mostly of first years getting into the school league were low, but Daniel was glad they’d tried out anyway; the last week of practice had been especially focused and intense as their goals gave them a reason to practice hard. “The following teams will be competing in this year’s Voxavin League,” Glinse said, floating a scroll in front of herself. “As always, these results are based purely on merit. Covens who formed teams in previous years were not guaranteed a spot.” As she said it, she glared over the scroll at a particular segment of the great hall, and Daniel sat up slightly so that he could peer over the other covens and see who she was focused on. Unable to follow the situation, he quietly asked, “What’s going on there?” “The Thunderbolts,” Asami explained in a whisper. “The same coven, minus one woman who graduated, made it to the Quadra Cup last year. I heard they didn’t like that they had to still try out.” “They bombed, didn’t they?” Radha asked. “Got totally crushed by the other schools?” “That might be a reason why Glinse doesn’t like them,” Asami confirmed. “The Marigolds,” Glinse announced. “Congratulations. As a new team, you’ll be asked to decide your jersey colors, please see me once this assembly is concluded.” The team name appeared above her, flickering with magical light, sparks like fireworks glimmering around it. A group of girls near the front of the hall cheered, and the other covens applauded with a mix of jealousy and praise. “Fifteen more chances,” Cassie whispered. “It’s fine if we don’t make it,” Mathilde promised her. “There’s always next year, once we have more experience.” Daniel shifted uncomfortably. He wouldn’t be here next year, this was his only shot at joining a voxavin league, and other than the general witchiness of it, he’d been enjoying the sport. He didn’t raise the point, not wanting to be a buzzkill. Glinse read off more names, and each was accompanied by a lightshow of their name. The Lions. The Riverdance. The Indigo Stars. A mix of teams who’d made it in years past and new groups, looking to make their name. With every announcement, a different pocket of witches cheered. “The Showdowns,” Glinse said, and Daniel winced. “That’s Rachel’s team, right?” Cassie asked. He nodded. He’d hoped they wouldn’t have to play against her, that she’d not be around in this part of his life. Then again, he was assuming they would make it, which looked more and more unlikely with every team other than them who got announced. As the available slots dwindled to eight, and then to six, Cassie slipped her hand into Daniel’s and squeezed it. He was surprised, and looked down at his hand, but saw she’d also taken Mathilde’s hand on her other side. It wasn’t directed at him, she just wanted someone to hold onto. He took the gesture further. Hazel stood on his left, and he reached over, squeezing her hand. She almost scoffed, but saw the gesture for what it was, and took Radha’s hand in turn. Asami was the last to join the line, and they stood together in a silent wish for their name to be called. Notably, Daniel listened for the Thunderbolts to be named, but they weren’t on the list yet. He wondered if Glinse had moved them to the bottom just to make their coven squirm, or if she’d really canned a previously-successful team of mostly fourth years. Through it all, he listened carefully, but their chosen team name wasn’t called out. Three names were left, and the Fireballs were called out. Two teams were left, and Glinse congratulated the Hurricanes. Just one. Cassie’s grip tightened on Daniel’s hand. Glinse stared over her scroll, glowering down at the Thunderbolts. “And, finally, congratulations to…” She sighed and paused, taking a moment to pinch the bridge of her nose in frustration. “Mother Earth, I don’t even know how to pronounce this. ‘Enchant’?” Daniel froze, and his eyebrows shot up as he heard their team called. Next to him, Cassie gasped, then threw up her hands in triumph, a gesture that dragged Daniel’s own arm up with her as she cheered. “YES!” Above Glinse, their chosen team name spelled out in the air: *NCHNT. Hazel was right, they’d picked a stupid name, but as the coven cheered and hollered in celebration, Daniel couldn’t help but join in. ... I could not resist the worst pun title of all time, now you all get to experience it. Support the author! I've got early access, exclusive fics, all kinds of perks for just a few bucks a month! https://subscribestar.adult/peculiarchangeling https://reamstories.com/peculiarchangelingabdl

Chapter 17: Red Handed Melody checked her phone in the garage, sitting in her car for a few minutes as she let the song on the stereo play out and transitioned her brain from Customer Service Work mode to Regular Melody. She needed to do more drives, but she was getting antsy sitting in her car all day, and Skip had texted a few minutes ago to say they were awake. Now was a good time to get back, take a break, and work on something fun before she went back out for the Wednesday evening surge pricing. As the song faded out, she sighed, got to her feet, and wandered from the detached garage behind the Waster household to the back door. Pearce was in the kitchen, loading the dishwasher, but he glanced up and stopped when Melody came in. “Oh, hey.” “Hey,” Melody replied, glancing at the job he’d done with mild curiosity. He shrugged, noting Melody’s absent inspection. “If you don’t tell Grace I put cups on the bottom rack, I won’t.” “I could care less, but it would be very difficult.” Melody rolled her eyes. “As long as the dishes get clean, it’s all the same to me.” “You got a package,” Pearce added. “I opened it because I thought it was for us ‘cuz of the packaging, I didn’t check the label until I noticed they were a size up. Sorry.” “No worries.” Melody raised her phone, finally texting a reply to Skip’s ‘I’m awake’ message. ‘Morning! I’m home from driving for a while.’ Since setting up the protocol, Skip hadn’t missed a beat on the check-in texts. Perfect punctuality, which aligned with Melody’s expectations. She didn’t even have anything specific she needed to work on with Skip, there were no chapters waiting for review or segments that critically needed input, but she wanted to work on something more engaging than an unregulated taxi service, and Skip’s presence helped her focus. She meandered her way to the front of the house and glanced at the package, a case of the bunny print diapers she’d ordered, already opened and sitting out. Rolling her eyes, she scooped up the box in both arms and headed to the stairs, detouring to deposit it in her bedroom before she returned to the hall and knocked on Skip’s door. There was no immediate response, but she could hear fans whirring loudly inside and didn’t see any light shining underneath. Skip was probably still lounging in bed with headphones on, or just couldn’t hear over the fans. Melody knocked again a little louder, waited a moment, then just turned the handle and stepped inside. Skip was splayed out in bed, blankets tangled around their body, chest rising and falling in time with slow, quiet snores. As the light from the hall fell over their face, they blinked and slowly came awake, groggy and surprised. “Hmh…uh?” they mumbled. “Melody?” “Oh,” Melody said. “Did you fall back asleep?” “What?” Skip rubbed at their eyes and sat up a little more, wincing back from the light like a vampire. “Oh, yeah. Sorry.” Melody stepped back, half closing the door to keep the searing light from falling on Skip’s eyes. “Need a minute to wake up?” “Yeah.” “Cool, see you soon.” She shut the door and stepped out, feeling hesitant and awkward. She didn’t like to wake anyone up from a comfortable sleep, but at the same time…something felt off. Skip hadn’t been groggy in a ‘I fell back asleep after hitting snooze’ way. They’d been out. Uncertain and paranoid, Melody checked her phone. The message from Skip had been sent at 2:17 PM. ‘Good morning.’ Simple, generic, but that’s all the rules demanded: A ‘good morning’. Dismissing the paranoia, Melody put her phone away and went back to her room. Pulling open the box of diapers, she began moving the plastic ten packs into her closet, stowing them between her shoes and her vibrators. (You’re overthinking it.) She knew Skip had a habit of playing coy, even just flat-out lying, but all the same…Skip wouldn’t lie about this, would they? She took out her phone and checked the message again. ‘Good morning.’ Scrolling up, she checked the previous messages. ‘Good night.’ ‘Leaving work.’ ‘Arrived at work.’ ‘Good morning.’ Sent at 2:17 PM. Brow furrowing, she checked the previous day. ‘Good Morning.’ sent at 2:17 PM. The other texts, too. Every ‘Arrived at work.’ had the same timestamp. The ‘Good night’ and ‘Leaving work’ texts were more variable, but the others were sent like clockwork. Almost as though they’d been sent on a timer. It was possible Melody was overthinking things. If Skip had a wake up alarm and always sent the message at the same time, it would look like the message itself was on a timer, and their shift at work always started at the same time as well. But… Melody paced in her room, inspecting the evidence in her mind like a TV detective. Skip was a liar. That much was known, Melody didn’t doubt their capability to be deceptive. However, they wouldn’t just lie for no reason. It was always for a reason, even if that reason was oblique. So…what would the reason be? It wouldn’t be pure laziness. If Skip didn’t want to be working on the book, they’d just give up on the book, they wouldn’t stick with it to try and avoid hurt feelings. Besides, the task they’d chosen was designed to be trivial, just a few texts a day. ‘Not wanting to fail’ struck Melody as a slightly more plausible option. She’d talked up how trivially easy the task would be, it was possible Skip had taken that to heart and was now paranoid about forgetting, to the point they’d set up a way to cheat just to make sure no failures were possible. Melody almost settled on that option, but it didn’t ring fully true. Skip was bulletproof, they didn’t care about messing up like that. There was only one other option she could think of, and the thought made her smirk. She waited, planning her confrontation like a serpent in ambush. This was all part of the process, part of the game, and Skip was pushing her. Melody’s only choice was to push back, and she wanted to get it right. After a bit of consideration, she walked to her closet, retrieved a couple things, then texted Skip. ‘Whenever you’re up and awake, come to my room?’ In the few minutes she had, she sat on the side of her bed, took a breath, and prepared herself, shifting into Performance Melody mode. She could have handled this with a frank conversation, but this felt better. Skip knocked on the door a moment later, then pushed it open without waiting for a response. “Morning, good…morning.” Immediately, their eyes fell onto the diaper Melody had placed on the bed. Since she was already watching, Melody caught the way their eyebrows raised a fraction, the hitch in their step, the subtle sharp breath. If Melody had harbored any doubts about Skip’s guilt, those uncertainties vanished. They’d been caught, and they knew it. “I just fell asleep again,” Skip said, glancing side to side nervously. “Mhmm,” Melody replied, nodding with patronizing assurance. “Come here.” Skip shut the door and crossed the room. Once they stood in front of Melody, they stopped and glanced down, hands in their hoodie pockets, avoiding eye contact by staring at their own socks. “What?” Melody looked up at them. “Really now? You’re going to keep it up?” “Keep what up? I didn’t–” Melody raised one finger in a wordless shush and shook her head. “I didn’t expect that I would catch you bratting, but really, I should have seen this coming. You were testing the limits of our rules, seeing how much they could be bent.” She stood and put a hand on Skip’s shoulder, a subtle motion, a step in between what she really wanted to do. “And that’s fine, Skip. I’m not mad at you for breaking the rules. It’s a game, and you played it how you wanted to.” Skip had no words, no reply, but Melody could feel them tremble under her touch. Now for the finishing strike. Gently, she moved her hand from Skip’s shoulder to their chin, gently pushing their face up, compelling them into eye contact. Though Skip stood several inches over her, in that moment, Melody felt as though she were towering, and as Skip raised their eyes and looked back, Melody knew they felt it too. “But,” Melody finished, “You still broke the rules, and for that, you need to be punished.” Skip’s expression resembled a prey animal about to break into a run, but below that panic, there was craving as well. Skip hadn’t just done this for the book, they hadn’t done it as clinical research, they were having fun with it. Of course they were having fun with it. Melody had created a game of trust, a game of deception, a game of personas and candor, and that was catnip to Skip. They couldn’t help but get invested, to try and play to the best of their ability, and Skip never played to win: they played to prove they were better than the game. Turning to the side, Skip’s face still in their hand, Melody rotated them so that she faced the bed and they could sit. Pulling her hand away, she commanded, “Down.” Skip sat immediately, without even questioning the instruction. Melody could see the subspace swimming in their eyes, bubbling to the surface in the way their lips quivered. “Is this how you want to play it, then?” she asked. “You try and break the rules, and I have to catch you?” Skip still seemed frozen, and Melody wondered for a moment if she had pushed things too hard, but after an uncertain breath they nodded. No words, but a solid affirmation. “We’ll need a protocol for this, a way for me to know for certain when I’ve caught you,” Melody considered. “If I ask you a direct question, you need to answer me honestly, okay?” Skip looked down, thought for a moment, then looked back up. “Only if you have proof.” That was fair. “You scheduled your texts to send automatically, didn’t you?” Melody asked, cementing what they both already knew. Skip nodded. “How many times?” “Every wake-up and arrival at work,” Skip said. “Seven.” “And we only have this game set up for three more days,” Melody said. “I’ll let you decide, since we never accounted for this. You can be sent to bed in a diaper for seven nights in a row–adding one more every time I catch you cheating again–or you can be kept in them until the end of the week, except when you’re at work, and we’ll add half a day for each lie.” Skip looked up at her, thinking for a long moment. “If I choose the consecutive time…” “You can use the bathroom if it’s not for pee,” Melody assured them, guessing at the question before Skip had to ask more directly. “I don’t think this little infraction needs you to be punished quite that harshly.” “Then I’ll take until the end of the week,” Skip said. “And get it over sooner.” “Good.” Melody smiled. The thought of being on diaper duty didn’t bother her, it was just pee and sweat. Even poop was just a bit unpleasant, it wasn’t as though she’d never had things go wrong during anal or had a mishap with an enema before, but that was a problem for later. What made her want to sing was the surge of power, the surge of winning, and at the same time, the surge of giving Skip what they wanted: Stakes. And…this was an opportunity to indulge in a part of domination that she rarely could. “Lie down, then, and we can begin your punishment. And don’t forget, the rules still apply; you still have to send me check-in texts, and I will be checking to make sure they’re real.” Skip swallowed and laid back, but Melody saw the defiance and excitement in their face. They were already looking for a way out, or a way to beat Melody and cheat just for the hell of it. The game was on. ... Is this technically the end of the first act? Seventeen chapters in? Oof, my pacing needs work. 😅 ... 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Chapter 30 Daniel yawned over his homework, displaying a sleepy sentiment shared by half his coven. It was getting to the sleepy hours of the evening, not quite late enough for bed, but late enough that the drain of a full school day was starting to wear on him. “She’s like my cat watching a fishbowl,” Radha snickered, nodding to the side of the common room. “She’s so mad.” Daniel didn’t need to follow the direction of her nod. He knew that Rachel had taken up a vigil near the side of the common room, pacing circles over by the crackling fireplaces, watching and waiting for a moment when Daniel went off on his own. Daniel’s coven had ensured she would remain disappointed, and the plan was working so far–more or less. They were only a day into it, and there’d been a couple close calls. One issue, ironically, had been bathroom breaks–Daniel didn’t need to go find a bathroom, but the coven-mate escorting him did, and so they had to make sure to get him to another member of the group before rushing off to pee. Daniel wasn’t a fan of being brooded over by a half-dozen mother hens, but it beat being bullied by Rachel. And, as a bonus, he’d discovered that the common area was a rather nice place to be. Unlike the library’s sterile study tables, the common area bustled with friendly sounds, smells, and other sensory delights. Snacks and hot cocoa were available on tap in the evenings, replacing light pastries and coffee available in the morning hours, and circles of comfortable chairs, low pillows, and even rings of bean bags were all arranged so that coven-sized groups could sit together. He’d received a few odd looks upon first arriving, but any strangeness had faded quickly, and now he was just another student in the shared space, working on homework with the rest of them. “I need to grab a book from the library before I retire for the night,” Daniel commented, stretching out his hands and packing up his book bag. “Is it alright if we head there a little early, so I can get in before it closes?” “Sure,” Cassie supplied, looking up from her workbook. “I need to run by there anyway, so I can fill in. How soon do you want to head out?” “Any time,” Daniel said, glancing over to ensure Rachel hadn’t left her pacing spot by the hearth. “Not yet,” Hazel interjected, passing over a parchment scroll marked with runes. “Fix this first.” Daniel looked down at the paper, then glanced over at Mathilde. She was a second year and so was Asami, either of them would have been a good candidate for homework help. Hazel had asked him instead, and Mathilde just gave a silent, approving nod before returning to a quiet conversation with Asami. He studied the paper for a moment. It was a fairly straightforward rune diagram, not for a particular spell, more like a base foundation that other spells would be applied to. “What class is this for? Thaumaturgy? I didn’t get any runework assigned this week.” “Extra credit,” she replied. When Daniel raised a curious eyebrow, her face pinked and she crossed her arms. “I’m having to redo the homework from last Friday.” “Oh.” Glancing down, Daniel thought up a few sick burns he could deliver, insults and quips, even highlighting the fact that the most brash amongst the coven was blushing, but he thought better of it and just focused on the problem. “Oh, I see where you’re getting tripped up, I think. Here, take a look at this.” Flipping the page, he turned it so that she could see while he gestured. She leaned in, squinting, and the rest of the coven watched with mild curiosity. “You’re mirroring everything,” he explained. “Spirit on the left, Mind on the right, all that.” “So? Orientation doesn’t matter,” Hazel objected. “And that’s how we usually sit, so it makes more sense for me to map out the runes that way.” “Yeah, but you still have the energy flowing in a clockwise pattern,” Daniel pointed out, tapping a finger on a small mark at the end of the ring inscribing the pentagram. “The direction you draw it doesn’t matter, you need to point this little carrot the other way, it dictates the power flow.” “God fucking dammit,” Hazel glowered, snatching the parchment back from him. “That’s it?” “It’s stupid easy to miss,” Daniel replied coolly. “I only caught it because I used to get that wrong for years. My mom’s left-handed, and so I copied the way she draws circles, but I didn’t get the difference, and…yeah. Ms. Thompson should really have caught this and just shown you how to fix it.” “And what do we say?” Radha teased, nudging Hazel. “Thanks,” Hazel grumbled. “I’m happy my mistakes are coming in useful now,” Daniel said, before seizing the opportunity for a quip. “It means I should have a lot of use going forward, because I’ve got a lot of mistakes behind me.” Zipping her backpack shut, Cassie asked, “Ready to go?” Daniel stood and nodded, stretching his back. Rachel was still by the hearth, glaring daggers his way, but she couldn’t do anything with a witness nearby. Probably. As he left the common room, making sure never to stray too far from Cassie’s side, he said, “So…I kinda lied about needing to go to the library, I need to stop somewhere else. Can you do me a favor?” Cassie raised her eyebrows. “Oh, sure. What’s up?” “I need to go talk to someone, but she’s…landlocked, I guess. And, wait, you need to go to the library for real, we can just do that and then go see her on the way back?” Daniel suggested. “Oh, I can just go tomorrow,” Cassie promised, looking around before she leaned in to whisper. “So you really have a ghost friend?” “I didn’t say it was–” Daniel started. “Uh, yes. I’m not going out broadcasting this to everyone though, okay?” “Oh sure, mum’s the word.” Cassie looked around. “So…where is she?” “It’s a side corridor kinda near the grand hall,” Daniel explained, leading the way. “Oh and, also, I’m going to need to have kind of an awkward conversation with her, do you mind waiting outside for it?” Cassie nodded, hesitated, then asked, “Is it alright if I meet her though? I’ve never met any ghosts.” “Neither have I.” Daniel shrugged. “But, sure–if she wants to meet you, she’ll probably say something anyway.” He turned down the side corridor that held Ismella’s room, after checking over his shoulder to ensure they weren’t being followed. He doubted Rachel would bother to stalk him that thoroughly, but all the same…he checked. Once he arrived at the door, he knocked and poked his head in. “Heyo, this is…my tenth visit, I think? I’m losing count.” She replied in a soft, quiet tone. “Eleventh.” “Eleventh time,” he confirmed. “How are you?” “I screwed it up with Jen, didn’t I?” she asked. “And…you brought someone?” Cassie leaned in, glancing around the room. “Uh, hi! I’m Cassie. Daniel asked me to walk with him, but I’ll just…wait out here.” “I’ll explain in a minute,” Daniel supplied before shutting the door and looking around. “I want to make eye contact, can you just…?” “I’m in front of you,” she promised. “Is this goodbye?” “What?” Daniel’s eyebrows shot up so quickly he worried they’d fly off his face. “No! Of course not.” “Okay. I just…I’m so, so, so sorry. I wasn’t thinking, and I just…it’s so nice having a body, you know? And…I thought Jen…I don’t know.” “Jen was getting defensive,” Daniel explained. “And…yeah, it wasn’t the greatest thing you could have done, but we’ve had time to cool off, and I’m past it.” “Okay. You promise?” She asked. “You’re not just going to walk out of here and never come back?” “I promise.” “I’m still going to be super anxious until you visit again.” “I’ll try to make it quick, then.” “That…doesn’t help.” He glanced around and leaned against the desk. “I guess I don’t really get how things work for you, like…time-wise. You seem to remember stuff okay.” “It’s like…” she paused, searching for words. “When I want to remember stuff, it’s like…you still get TV, right?” “Yeah.” “It’s like TV,” she continued. “Any episode of a show might air, but you never know if it’s going to be in the right order. Which especially sucks because it’s all two-parters, or three-parters, and I don’t even know if the show finished or if I’m going to get to the end of a story.” “That…I think I get that.” Daniel shrugged. “They’re making TV shows that actually have long running stories now, by the way.” “I know, Penny told me about ‘Who Shot JR’,” Ismella said. “So I figured you’d understand the metaphor.” Daniel looked down past the hem of his uniform skirt, searching the floor for some way to escape the awkward energy between them. He didn’t find anything. “I don’t think Penny goes here any more, by the way.” “I…kind of guessed that, but I’d hoped I was wrong.” Daniel cleared his throat, wishing he had something else to talk… “Oh! I should introduce you to Cassie.” “The girl who’s pressing her ear to the door to listen in?” Ismella asked. Out in the hall, Cassie yelped, then the door swung open with a slow creak. She raised one hand in a wave, blushing. “Hi. Sorry.” “Privacy’s kind of…not a thing around me,” Ismella said. “I think if I’m allowed to spy on you, I can’t get too mad if you do the same back.” Daniel threw up his hands, more in jest than out of serious annoyance. “What about me? I don’t get to spy on either of you?” His feigned protest lasted only a second, then the tension dissolved and they all laughed. “So, you needed her to come with you,” Ismella said. “Were you expecting a fight or something?” “You’re not far off,” Cassie said. “He’s got a bully problem.” Daniel exhaled, then set into the explanation, summarizing what had happened with Rachel. He stuck to the basics and only skimmed past what had gone down in his room the other night, but the important part–that he needed an eye witness on hand to avoid further abuse by Rachel–came through clearly enough. When he was done, Ismella addressed Cassie. “So you’re his babysitter?” He groaned and pinched the bridge of his nose, once again feigning more annoyance than he actually felt. Cassie smirked, though it didn’t rise to a full giggle. “I’m not going–no, sorry, that’s too mean.” “If you were going to make a quip about changing diapers, you may as well say it.” Daniel rolled his eyes. In spite of that, Cassie shook her head, more somber than the moment deserved. “No. This is still because Rachel’s being a jerk, I don’t want to add to that. Teasing you because of a curse she laid on you isn’t any different from making fun for anything else she’s done, is it?” She wasn’t wrong, but it didn’t sit right with Daniel to leave it there. “Okay, but…this is funny. I’m claiming that much, at least. I’m a dude in a dress, wearing a diaper. That’s funny, and as long as I’m laughing along, she can’t get to me with that.” Cassie shrank back by a fraction. “Right. Sure.” “Come on, I want you to joke about it,” Daniel pushed. “Not in a mean way, but it’s okay. When I make a big deal around you, it’s because I’m playing into the joke.” “And you’re sure it’s all a joke?” Cassie asked. “Well…” Daniel started, but he felt uncertain that he and Cassie were on the same page. “Ismella, back me up here.” “I would, but…hold on.” Ismella paused, hmm’ing while she thought. “But…I’m not getting anywhere near your back side? Sorry, that’s not a good one. I can’t joke on demand!” “I…Cassie,” Daniel said, saying her name for want of something better to fit into the conversation. “Just…play me straight, okay? Whatever you’re thinking, I’m not a mind reader, especially not when it comes to girls.” She looked away, then back at him. “Are you sure you want to talk about this around Ismella?” He paced in a circle, actual frustration rising slightly. “I don’t even know what ‘this’ is.” “Well…” Cassie began. “It’s just that, you’re at a women’s school, you seem comfortable wearing women’s clothing, you’re always focused on acting manly, but I wonder…is it just an act?” “So you’re saying I’m girly,” Daniel surmised, raising an eyebrow. “Is this part of the teasing?” “No! Absolutely not.” Shaking her head emphatically, Cassie said, “Danny…do you feel like you might be a woman?” Daniel blinked once, then twice, then just for good measure, he blinked a third time. His first impulse was to laugh, but she wasn’t joking, he saw nothing but sincerity in Cassie’s eyes. His second impulse was to deny it. It wasn’t true, full stop, and he didn’t want to give the wrong impression. But…Cassie’s face didn’t just say ‘I’m trying to help you’. It said ‘I’ve been there’. And that meant… “Oh.” His eyes widened. “You were…oh. Oh. You’re…” Cassie nodded. “Yeah. And I think you are too.” “Um…” Ismella said. “Someone want to clue me in and explain what you two are talking about?” “It’s kinda personal,” Daniel said. “I’m not sure if–” “It’s okay,” Cassie interrupted. “I don’t mind sharing. I’m transgender.” “Oh, cool.” Daniel chuckled nervously, uncertain how to respond to that. Did he make it into a big deal, or play it cool? Then again, she was making this about him. The awkwardness felt enhanced by Ismella’s presence, but Daniel also wasn’t sure if this was meant to be some major confession, or just a data point Cassie was offering in order to convince him that he was in the same boat as her. Unsure what else to add, he just finished with, “Well…I’m definitely not.” “Oooh,” Ismella added. “Okay, gotcha.” Cassie’s posture slackened slightly and relief flashed in her face. She didn’t seem like she’d been preparing for anything in particular, but the two affirmative responses defused any fears about how the conversation would go. “Are you sure you aren’t? Most girls come out before applying to Alphabeta, but, like, you seem to get along really well as a witch, and…it’s easy to convince yourself of something that isn’t true.” “I’m not convincing anyone of anything,” Daniel replied. Ismella snorted, which was impressive given her lack of nose, but she quickly followed up with, “Sorry.” It took Daniel a moment to realize the accidental punchline he’d set up, and he rolled his eyes but let it move on without further comment. “I mean, when I act like a guy, it’s because I am a guy. You don’t get it, because you’re a girl.” Cassie smirked and blushed simultaneously. “Okay. If that’s where you’re at, I won’t keep pushing about this, I just didn’t want you to be stuck feeling like you had to pretend.” “Sure.” Danny nodded. “And…thanks for trusting me, too. I appreciate that a lot.” “You’re welcome,” Cassie replied. “You seemed like a person who’d be cool, and you were, so, thanks for that too.” ... Thank you for reading! If you want to support me, I do early access, exclusive stories, and all that jazz. Y'all know the drill. A couple bucks a month to me, more fiction for you! I wouldn't be able to write half as much as I do without my awesome supporters. https://subscribestar.adult/peculiarchangeling https://reamstories.com/peculiarchangelingabdl

Chapter 16: Partners ‘So when do we want to do our next scene?’ (Play it cool. Play it cool.) Skip watched the typing bubble on their phone, hands shaking with uncertain eagerness. In their bed, with the blackout curtains drawn, no lights on, and a box fan whirring off to the side, they were in a sensory void. The only thing in their reality was the phone screen, Melody’s messages, the conversation with their…research partner. ‘This weekend? And we can write up the last one over the week.’ Melody replied. Five days away. Skip would have to get through a whole work week with…whatever those feelings were, swirling around in their head without resolution. That wouldn’t do. They needed closure, or at least answers. If this was a crush, if they’d somehow caught feelings, they needed to know for certain so that they could nip them in the bud. And if it wasn’t, if it’d just been a giddy response to hormones followed by an equally intense crash, they would breathe easier knowing it’d just been another unwanted physiological consequence of having a body. Even so, they didn’t want to look too eager. Melody couldn’t know about even potential feelings; if she got the sense that Skip wanted a relationship it would kill their friendship. Worse, Skip would never live it down. It would be better to gently prod, to make Melody be the one who suggested they act faster. With that in mind, Skip replied, ‘Sure, that’s probably smart. We don’t want to be too ambitious and do more than we can handle.’ An immediate pang of guilt struck Skip. It was a tiny manipulation, so subtle as to be almost negligible, but it felt wrong. Melody replied a moment later. ‘I was just assuming you’d be too tired from work to fit anything in. You’re working like fifty hours a week right now, right?’ ‘I’m fine. Your energy levels are really the only thing that could–’ Skip backspaced, erasing the message and typing out a new version, a more direct one. The manipulation had already been enough, they didn’t need to lay it on thick and turn the conversation into an accusation. ‘Yeah, but it’s pretty easy work. I’m not worried about my energy levels.’ A second passed, then ten, and no typing bubble appeared. Distantly, over the sound of a box fan, they heard footsteps, then a loud rapping on their door cut through the void of inputs. Reaching to the side, Skip flipped the switch on their power strip, killing power to the box fan. Sitting up in bed, they called, “Yeah?” Melody opened the door, silhouetted by blinding hallway light. “We’re texting while like ten feet apart, this is silly,” she said. “Can I come in?” Fumbling, Skip pressed the button on their bedside lamp, realized it had no power, turned the power strip on again, unplugged the fan, and, finally, turned on their lamp. The show was particularly awkward, and by the time they returned their gaze to Melody, they were blushing. “Yeah, come in.” Walking into the now-lit room, Melody sat on the edge of the bed. Skip drew their legs up to their chest to make room. “So, scene,” Melody stated. (You’ve done like three of these already,) Skip told themself. (It’s not a big deal.) But…it was. A scene would give proof that their feelings were just euphoria and sub drop with a hint of fatigue. “What’s next in your outline?” Skip asked, though they’d read the document Melody had written a dozen times and knew what was next on the list. The bullet points were pretty clear: Sado-masochism was next, followed by denial and sexual control, then engagement with social groups. Each was more terrifying than the last, for different reasons. Melody didn’t need to check the outline either. “I think next would be physical punishment and pain. Spankings, e-stim, breath play, there’s…kind of a lot. It’s a big chapter, and it takes a lot of focus, it’s probably not something to try and squeeze in during the week. I want this book to be a universal primer of sorts, but I don’t want to gloss over stuff because we went too fast.” “Okay,” Skip said. “So, what’s after that?” “Denial, but we need to come up with a plan for that, and I might just have to write that on my own,” Melody pointed out. “Because, like…what’s the point in locking you in chastity?” Skip had thoughts in that regard, but Melody didn’t seem to like it when they tipped their hand to having done independent research. Playing dumb, they mixed up their terminology. “I guess to just practice with how the belt works?” “Well for you it would be a cage,” Melody corrected. “And, sure, but that’s less about denial and more like…safe cleaning and maintenance.” (Perfect.) “Sure. Not the next thing we need to handle, anyway.” Skip wasn’t thrilled about anything focused between their legs, but on the scale of ‘it doesn’t matter’ to ‘they needed to nope out’, the idea of a cage ranked somewhere around a doctor’s visit. (Crap, that means…) “Was there something else in the list?” “You’re not ready for that,” Melody said simply. “But, okay, something that’s not a specific bullet point in the outline…we could try some more general protocol stuff?” That was promising. A connection, a test, that wouldn’t be too intense. Ensuring they had the right idea, Skip asked, “What, like the poses and commands you taught me?” “More, day-to-day type protocol,” Melody explained. “People who are into lifestyle type kink do this more, where their long term partner might have rules about what they’re allowed to do.” (So, not something you have any experience with either,) Skip thought. They could have said it aloud, and soured the conversation, nipping their opportunities in the bud. Or, they could have just said that was beyond the scope of what they’d planned, or anything else to keep from handing over any control or power to Melody. Instead, Skip said, “Sure, that’s pretty much what Grace and Pearce do, right?” “Exactly, though in a pretty specific niche.” Melody smirked. “They kind of stumbled ass-backwards into it, and they don’t really do protocols in an official way though.” “So, what, you’re going to feed me and dress me and give me a bedtime?” Skip suggested, scoffing immediately. “Obviously not, usually it’s like…okay, we’re not going to even try a ‘no masturbating’ rule with you, because, duh.” Melody shrugged. “Since we’re doing this more to get the logistics of it, we don’t really need to do anything kinky at all. It’s more…you know, it’s one thing to say, ‘Oh, you have to follow this list of instructions at all times’, but it’s another thing to actually practice it and see how practical it is.” “Yeah, I understand the project we’re doing,” Skip said, before they could bite back the acerbic remark. However, instead of playing it off, or ignoring it, they tried to claw back some friendliness. “Sorry.” “Sorry,” Melody repeated back to them. “I’m not trying to patronize you or anything.” “It’s all good,” Skip assured her. Shifting the way they sat, so that their legs weren’t bunched up quite as tightly against their chest, they said, “So, what kind of rules?” “Let’s keep it simple. How about…always say ‘Good morning’ and ‘Good night’ whenever you wake up or are about to sleep, same with telling me when you’re heading to and leaving work?” “So, treat you like an overbearing parent?” Skip asked. “...is that part of ‘mommy dom’ stuff?” Melody snickered. “I’m just thinking of things that are routine, but still take a little memory.” “Right.” Reaching for their phone, Skip checked their notifications, purely to give them an excuse to fiddle with something. “Should that be it?” “Was there something you wanted to add?” Skip hesitated. This wasn’t the full blown scene they’d wanted to audit their emotional response, but it was something, and Melody had been the one to suggest it. Their apparent aloof attitude was preserved, and some kind of experiment was better than a week in pure limbo. “Nah, that should be good to start. It might be a little too easy, but we can always ramp it up later.” Melody smirked again. “Well, if it’s that easy, you won’t have an excuse if you screw it up, will you?” Skip chuckled, and tried to make it sound amused rather than nervous. “Obviously.” “So, punishment?” “Skip?” They blinked. “What?” “You spaced out for a second there,” Melody explained, eyebrows raised in mild concern. “You okay?” Glancing away, Skip came up with a hasty excuse. They’d fully blanked, train of thought lost at Melody’s last question. “Oh, sorry, I was just trying to think of a better joke to follow up.” “Punishment,” Melody repeated. “Maybe there’s something with ‘pun’ there?” “No, bad puns are too harsh for me,” Skip quipped, re-entering the conversation as smoothly as they could. “That kind of ‘pun’ishment is too far.” “Then, let’s just go with the old reliable,” Melody said. “Any day you forget, you have to wear a diaper to bed.” “That seems pretty harsh,” Skip pointed out, though their heart began to race at the thought. Not because of the diapers, but because of the possibility of screwing up. Melody had made it out to be trivial, but even trivial tests could be failed. “Well, you were the one who said it would be ‘too easy’.” Melody rolled her eyes. “Don’t mess it up, it won’t be a problem. Most subs don’t get punished unless they’re trying to earn some punishment, and we’re not to the ‘bratting’ chapter yet.” Skip exhaled in a half-laugh. “Okay, sure. Text first thing when I wake up, before I go to bed, and when I am about to leave for work and when I get home?” “Sounds good,” Melody said. “Okay. Rewards?” Skip asked. “If there’s punishment, there has to be a reward, too.” Melody cocked an amused eyebrow. “You’re just trying to get more free breakfast out of me.” Before Skip could object, she laughed to show she was joking. “I don’t mind buying you lunch, it’s cool.” “No, I was thinking something more minor.” Skip played it cool. Their last reward had been no big deal, nothing worth breaking their persona over, but when Melody had them on the bed, working the tension out of their shoulders, explaining that they’d done a good job… They didn’t need to play it too cool. Trying to sound as though they’d picked an idea at random, they suggested, “Maybe just another massage? That definitely helped my shoulders some, I wouldn’t mind another one, and it’s not as big a deal as going out to eat.” “You know if you’ve got a knot in your shoulders, you can just ask, right?” Melody asked. “I’m happy to help a friend out.” “Well sure, but you’d also buy me lunch if I was broke,” Skip pointed out. “We’re not picking things that you only do under duress.” Reaching out, Melody put a hand on Skip’s knee, patting gently. “Okay then, that works for me. Keep it up all week, and on Saturday you’ll get another back rub. Deal?” “Deal.” Skip took her hand and they shook on it. “You need to get to work soon, don’t you?” Melody asked. “Not for another couple hours,” Skip replied. “But I should probably get up and have some food before I go.” Sitting up, Melody moved as though to get to her feet, but didn’t quite get off Skip’s bed yet. “Do you have a minute to read over the latest chapter? I typed something up this morning, I think it’s ready for a second set of eyeballs.” “Yeah, send it over and I’ll check it out once I’m fully out of bed,” Skip promised. Smiling, Melody finally got up. Shooting Skip a set of finger guns, she said, “Sure thing, writing partner!” Skip blinked. “What was that?” Melody turned pink and rubbed at the back of her neck, radiating awkwardness. “I don’t know, just…I’ll send that chapter.” A pang of sympathetic discomfort rang through Skip, and they raised their arms, returning the awkward finger guns, exclaiming, “Writing partners!” It was dorky, and stupid, and Melody giggled at the release of tension. “Okay, I’ll email that link to you.” She left, and once Skip was certain they wouldn’t be overheard, they giggled too. ... Chapter 17 is already up in early access for my subs! Support helps me write more stories like this one. https://subscribestar.adult/peculiarchangeling https://reamstories.com/peculiarchangelingabdl

I had a consultant advise me on this! 😤 I will have to revoke their fee. Edit: Also technically the story is set in the US, just somewhere in the northeast, like Vermont or upstate New York. I hadn't pinned it down specifically, but since it gives me the opportunity to make this joke, it's set in Albany. You see, it's a regional dialect. What region? Not Utica, no, it's an Albany expression.

Chapter 15: Penny Drop Melody didn’t want to brag, but she was a damned good dom. Or, at least, that was half-true. She did want to brag. Her aftercare game with Skip had been on point, and she hadn’t even needed to give them a halfhearted handjob first. After identifying what was going on, she’d responded quickly, made sure Skip’s needs were met, and left them in better shape than she’d found them. Their reaction had admittedly been a bit of a surprise, given Skip’s general resilience and how well they’d handled their previous scenes together, but Melody didn’t take that in a negative way. Upping the intensity had been the point, but Skip wasn’t a robot, and a more intense scene naturally led to a more intense response. Regardless, Melody had handled it like a champion. (Let’s see someone try and criticize me over this.) Lounging on the couch, she drafted a post, thinking how best to word it. Skip had made it clear they didn’t want to turn this into a public performance or get other people involved, so Melody focused on herself. … @MelodyMelody Aftercare queen :nail-care: When you do a scene with me, you get the full package. No sub drop here! … Satisfied, she sat back, sipped her coffee, and put her legs up on the table. Skip was sleeping–a well earned rest, even if they weren’t a natural night owl–but Melody didn’t want to lose the pleasant afterglow buzz of the morning, so she made some more notes on her phone, trying to capture the energy of what they’d done together. (We need at least a full chapter on aftercare–probably a whole section.) While working, Grace waddled by, smelling of baby powder and hair product. It was the weekend, and she was in a particularly garish outfit, a pastel pink pair of elastic shortalls that clung to her body and emphasized her curves, both natural and padding-induced. Noticing Melody’s drink, Grace paused and said, “You did a Horton’s run?” “Skip and I had a morning meeting,” Melody replied. “Sorry, I didn’t think about picking up donuts for everyone, I was kinda preoccupied.” “It’s alright,” Grace said, though Melody caught Grace biting her lip in snacky disappointment. “Oh, and I saw your text, do you need more diapers?” “I don’t want to hassle you about it, I’m sure I can find them myself,” Melody replied. Skip’s stance had been clear, so she tried to downplay it. “But thanks.” “I really don’t mind sharing, especially if they’re not going to be wearing all the time,” Grace asked, cheeks turning pink. “I have…a lot.” “We put you and Pearce on permanent trash duty for a reason.” Melody snickered, which drew out an even stronger blush from Grace as intended. “But no, seriously, it’s fine.” “Sure. So…” Grace looked away, and Melody wondered if she was actually trying to hide her insecurity and failing, or if she just wasn’t bothering to be coy. “You two…liked it?” “Oh, no, definitely not.” Melody smiled, but immediately recognized the whiplash on Grace’s face and sat forward, correcting herself. “It’s a punishment, you know, so it’s like…an effective-but-unwanted thing. Like when Pearce puts you in time out.” “Right.” Grace nodded, relaxing a bit and leaning against the wall. “Well, I’m glad you like-don’t-like it.” “I’m not trying to piss on your dynamic,” Melody assured her. “It’s just not our thing. Or, well, we don’t really have a dynamic, it’s all play-acting, but you get it.” Grace nodded. “Oh, of course. I wasn’t expecting any playdates or anything. Just let me know if you want any diaper recommendations, I know some other good brands. I’m gonna go make coffee, do you want any?” “No thanks, I shouldn’t double up on caffeine or I’ll get the jitters.” Melody leaned back, raised her coffee cup in a mock toast, and checked her phone. … @LilSadie (Alt for LilSusie) Replying to @MelodyMelody Wow, I guess telling people how the shower works counts as ‘aftercare’ now … @AlyxBunchOfNumbers Replying to @MelodyMelody Acting like Sub Drop only happens if you’re bad at aftercare? Wow, not a surprise coming from her. … Melody stared at the replies, frustration simmering as she concocted an angry response in her head. There were more responses, mostly positive, but they were empty fluff. The haters needed someone to set the record straight. Fingers blurring, she began to prepare a venomous response to the most recent reply, but when she hit ‘Post’, she got an error message: ‘The post you’re replying to is no longer available’. (This bitch blocked me?) Melody groaned, so loud that Grace leaned in from the kitchen and looked across the house to her. “Are you okay?” “Just…” Melody began. “Stupid online drama bullshit.” “Ugh, that’s the worst.” Grace shrugged. “Maybe walk away for a minute, take a breath?” Melody wanted to continue engaging, but she couldn’t do much with a blocked account, and a public vaguepost would only contribute to her own Streisandification. Instead, she got to her feet. “I changed my mind, it’s a double coffee day.” “I’ve got a whole pot percolating.” Fuming, Melody stalked into the kitchen, trying to put the post out of her head. “I just said I was good at aftercare, and I immediately had a dozen people jumping down my throat.” Grace tilted her head curiously as she returned to what she’d been doing, emptying the dishwasher. “Aftercare with Skip?” “It’s about me, not them,” Melody assured her, steering away from specifics. “I didn’t even say any details.” Removing an oversized sippy cup with permanent coffee stains soaked into the plastic, Grace set it aside along with the dedicated top that went with it. “Have you tried just…letting it lie? Not caring, not engaging?” “And let them slander me?” Melody asked, exasperated at the mere suggestion. In a J.K. Simmons esque-voice, Grace quipped, “In print it’s libel.” “The point is: I’m going to try and sell a book, my public persona’s pretty…paramount.” The alliteration hadn’t been intentional at the start, but once she noticed it, Melody couldn’t give up the opportunity to finish it out. “Besides, oh hypocrite, when do you ever just ‘let things lie’?” Grace’s eyes flashed, and Melody worried she’d triggered an argument with her mild criticism, but her friend instead demonstrated unusual grac– (No, no, bad pun.) Leaning forward, Grace said, “Pearce has helped me there, some. I don’t think I’ll ever be at his profound chillness levels–I don’t even want that–but it’s fine to just give up some fights. Or, at least, to ask yourself if it’s worth your time.” With the dishwasher ninety percent emptied and nothing left to assist with, Melody asked, “Do you want a hand with that?” Grace knew the game, but didn’t call her out on it. “No, I’m almost done.” “Okay.” Melody pulled up a stool at the kitchen island and thought for a moment. “How do you decide which fights are worth picking?” “I think about what the consequences might be, whether I have the time, whether it’s worth it, but…honestly?” Grace asked. “I ask Pearce. Or he just notices I’m on a tear and he tells me what he thinks.” “I’m not going to ask Pearce about this.” Taking the last dish from the washer, a mug, Grace poured the now-percolated coffee, one mug full for Melody, one sippy cup full for herself. “No, but just someone you trust. You could ask Skip, too.” “Your relationship with Pearce is way different than my friendship with Skip,” Melody assured her. “It’s not like that.” “Well sure, I wasn’t trying to say you were dating or anything.” “No, I mean…you say ‘trust’, but it sounds like you mean ‘candor’, and you know how Skip is.” Melody shrugged. “I’m not saying I don’t trust them, obviously I do, I just…I dunno.” “I didn’t think you didn’t trust them.” “I just, I guess, they don’t talk much about work, or what they do online, so it feels weird if I dump all that on them and ask about it. That feels very…one way.” Melody drank her coffee, uncertain what else to add. “And I know it’s just because they tend to be pretty shy about stuff, they don’t really broadcast their emotions, that’s all fine. It’s just…bleh. I don’t know.” There was more to it than what she was saying, but to explain any more would be to get into private affairs, and Skip had been pretty clear that they didn’t want any details being broadcast. Going into the sub drop, or even the way their communication had broken down the night before and how she’d had to work to recover the situation, would be TMI, even if Skip wasn’t actually in the room. Any other partner, Melody wouldn’t particularly care. Grace took precedent over a random one night stand, but this was Skip. “Okay, weww,” Grace said, before pulling her sippy cup of coffee away from her lips. “Well. You trust me, right? And I bitch to you about work stuff plenty often?” “Yes,” Melody confirmed. “And I think I know what you’re about to say.” “Drop it.” Grace exhaled in a half-laugh. “You’ll just make yourself even more angry, and trolls online aren’t going to stop being trolls, especially if you keep giving them troll bait.” Melody nodded. “Thanks.” All that said, there was probably one story Melody could share. “Honestly, I’m surprised nobody’s attacking me for what Skip did at the diner.” Grace raised a curious eyebrow. “What’s that?” “So, we get to this new place, the Green Tomato, and the person behind the register is an ex. Not a big deal, right?” Melody asked, though her rhetorical question barely got a shrug from Grace. “So she comes over to our table to try and ‘warn’ Skip about me, like I’m going to steal their identity or something if I’m not stopped. Skip got up in her face and chewed her the fuck out, totally ripped apart her argument. It was great.” Snickering, Grace raised a hand to cover her mouth. Melody frowned, realizing she was the butt of a private joke. “What?” “Your cheeks are pink,” Grace said. “You’ve got a cruuuush.” “What? No, I–” Melody started, but Grace only laughed, undercutting her objection. “I’m kidding, obviously. You just have that same look you get when you bring a new college boy around.” Grace rolled her eyes. “I know you don’t have a crush on Skip.” “Right,” Melody agreed, nodded, confirmed what Grace was saying, and didn’t have any objections or uncertainty whatsoever. “Obviously. That would be ridiculous.” (...) (...) (...oh fuck me.) ... Skip and Melody, sitting in a tree, S-I-T-T-I-N-G... ... Support the author, please! https://subscribestar.adult/peculiarchangeling https://reamstories.com/peculiarchangelingabdl

Chapter 29 “...are you okay?” Jen’s voice floated out from beneath the bed, and a second later, she began to shimmy free, scooting awkwardly on her belly like an inexperienced snake. Mortification left Daniel huddled in the corner, the reality setting in. Pushing him around hadn’t been enough, making him wear diapers hadn’t been enough, cursing him to need those diapers hadn’t been enough. She would keep pushing, keep upping the ante, until he broke. Rachel wasn’t going to let up, and he couldn’t make her back off. Jen got herself out, then recoiled as her leg brushed against one of the cold, clammy diapers littering his dorm room floor. She recovered quickly and got herself upright, scooting in a kneeling position over to his side “Danny, I’m so sorry.” A part of him wanted to take deep breaths, to try and calm down, but the strong stale ammonia combined with the stink of his freshly full diaper made it so that any attempt at self-soothing only reinforced his predicament. “She’s such a bitch,” Jen continued. Though she didn’t make a big deal out of it, Daniel could tell that she was taking shallow breaths, a detail that became more and more obvious as she rambled. “But I’m sure we’ll find some way to get her off your back. Maybe we can report her to the faculty? Like, if it’s just her word against yours that’s one thing, but I saw it too–and maybe I could get, like, a hidden camera, and we could set her up and frame her, and then it’d be even stronger proof. But I bet–” “She’s right, Jen,” Daniel interrupted. “What? No.” Jen shook her head. “I don’t belong here.” “I mean…” Jen looked away. She clearly didn’t want to lie, but she tried to talk around the topic. “Like…whatever shenanigans you pulled to get enrolled, I don’t think it matters at this point, that doesn’t give her the right to treat you this way.” “No. I mean she’s right, I don’t belong here because I’m a terrible warlock.” He pushed her away. “I can’t untie the curse she wove into my aura, I can’t stop her from barging into my dorm and pushing me around, I can’t even keep up with my coven unless they baby me.” Jen squeaked, the start of a laugh that she murdered by covering her mouth with her hands. Too late to protect his dignity, she added, “Sorry!” A few reactions fought for dominance in Daniel’s mind, but one stuck out above the others. He giggled. The laugh escaped him as easily as it’d escaped Jen, but he didn’t have anyone’s dignity to protect. The giggles turned to snickers, and the snickers to a full belly laugh, leaning forward and wheezing. His mirth was infectious, and in moments, Jen was laughing too, caught up in the moment. Barely able to catch his breath, he gasped, “It’s so fucking stupid.” Jen scooted close again, this time to lean on him for support. A distant part of Daniel knew that the giggling was hysterical, that he’d just gone through about fifty high-intensity situations and he just couldn’t cope with the adrenaline whiplash, but all the same, he laughed. As the giggles died down, he sank against the wall, more relaxed. “Rachel isn’t stupid enough to fall for being filmed.” “You’re sure?” Jen asked. “I’ve heard about the grades she gets in coven class.” “Okay, rephrasing: I can’t hold a poker face that would fool her,” Daniel admitted. “And I don’t know if the faculty would even care, if she could just claim it was an illusion or something to frame her.” “Not all the teachers hate you.” Jen pressed a hand to the side of his face, smiling in a comforting way. “Yeah? I’m pretty hateable, apparently.” “I don’t hate you,” Jen insisted. Taking a stab at his real insecurities, she added, “And I don’t care how good you are at dueling magic, and I don’t mind the curse. You’re still cute.” He sighed and shook his head, dejected. “Babies are cute. They still smell like shit and make everyone exhausted.” Leaning in, Jen kissed him on the lips, and for a blissful instant of contact, all his worries melted away. He tried to follow as she pulled away, needy for the erasure of worry that came with her touch, and Jen let him, continuing the kiss for as long as he needed. When they pulled apart, he was troubled to notice that he had another erection, despite the state of his diaper. “Go clean up,” Jen instructed. “They let you shower, right?” “Yeah.” “So, go shower, I’ll clean this up,” Jen said. “And then we’ll figure out what to do about Rachel. Okay?” Nodding, Daniel exhaled slowly. The pity party was over, he could manage this. “Thanks, Jen.” He knew better than to immediately blurt ‘I love you’, and that even the thought was the result of the same cocktail of hormones and endorphins running through his brain that’d caused the laughing fit. But the thought was there. … Jen dropped a thick book onto the breakfast table, a tome with enough heft that it caused Daniel’s plate of pancakes to jump slightly. The scattered members of his coven who were sharing his breakfast period leaned in, curious. Asami and Mathilde were off with other friends, but the rest had formed a loose circle around Daniel so that they could hear last night’s gossip. At the sight of the book, Cassie spoke up. “Did you get in a late night study session?” “I woke up early and hit the library,” Jen explained. “Did Daniel tell you what happened?” “Rachel showed up in his room and bullied him,” Radha summarized. “She assaulted him,” Hazel corrected. “I’m not, like, a victim,” Daniel interjected quickly. Cassie patted a hand on his back, though Daniel wasn’t sure if it was meant to reassure him that nobody thought he was, or that it was okay to be a victim. Jen shared a glance with Daniel, one that managed to convey a long, rambling, wordless message. ‘So you didn’t tell them we had sex? Or that I was in the room? I guess not, since they would have mentioned that.’ Out loud, she said, “Oh, he didn’t ment–uh, um.” “What?” Radha asked, glancing between them. “Ooooh!” Hazel added, eyes widening with voyeuristic glee. “You two were getting busy when she showed up, weren’t you?” “What? No!” Jen said quickly. Hazel’s grin spread across her face. “Daniel and Jenny, sitting in a tree, F-U-C–” “Hazel!” Cassie snapped. “Not the time.” “I’m not criticizing,” Hazel said, nodding to Daniel. “Get it, buddy.” “We weren’t having sex when Rachel showed up,” Daniel declared, trying to take over control of the situation. “Did we ever get an answer on the whole ‘using his mouth’ thing?” Radha asked. Despite the attempt by Daniel to smother this avenue of conversation, Hazel giggled, and Jen looked between them in confusion. “What?” “The first time we practiced as a coven, it was like–he could speak up, but that was ‘using his mouth’,” Radha explained. “I mean, well…” Jen blushed slightly, but didn’t suppress her coy smile. “Let’s just say…I think he’s a fast study.” “Jen!” Daniel yelped. “What? There’s no crying when the cat’s out of the barn, they already saw through my poker face,” Jen said. “We were just making out, but like, y’know. It’s not some kind of crime, students are allowed to date and stuff.” Daniel felt a surge of pride, though he also burned with embarrassment. After a moment of reflection, he tamped down on his blush. (Why shouldn’t I be proud of having a girlfriend?) Jen seemed to be in a similar state, half-giddy and half-blushing, but she accepted a fist bump from Hazel. “What’s the book?” Cassie interjected, mercifully getting them back on track. She almost seemed to have forgotten about the book, but once it was mentioned again, Jen returned her focus to the conversation she’d come here for. “Oh, yeah! Bylaws for the school. Prefects aren’t gods, they have limited authority, they’re just supposed to keep the other girls in line.” “And we’ve seen how much Rachel cares about the rules,” Daniel said. “Is there something that helps us?” “They’re allowed to check into dorms to make sure there’s nothing illicit going on,” Jen explained, “But only until Nine PM, and after eight in the morning. After that, they can’t come into your room, they have to go get a faculty member if they think something is happening that needs to be urgently stopped.” “So she’ll be breaking the rules when she assaults Daniel,” Hazel said. “So, it’s one of the enchantments built into the school,” Jen clarified. “Rachel couldn’t just get inside last night because she’s good at lockpick spells, it’s because she’s got a prefect-coded master key spell. After nine, the lock won’t let her through.” “Great,” Daniel said. “So I’ll only have to deal with her harassing me during the waking hours.” “You think she’d be brazen enough to straight up attack you when there are other students around?” Jen asked. “Because I don’t think she would.” “Okay, so I’m safe during classes and meals. Again, this isn’t that helpful,” Daniel said. “I guess, stick to public spaces?” Radha suggested. “Hang out in the library a bunch.” “Well, he has to go back to his room a couple times a day so he can change,” Jen pointed out. “Er–sorry, Daniel.” He barely blushed, though he made sure the girls could see him roll his eyes. “It’s fine.” “But,” Jen continued. “We can just use the buddy system. Always make sure he’s got someone with him, at least until we find a more permanent way to get Rachel off his back.” “Oh…” Daniel said, shaking his head. “Jen…you can’t just be with me all the time. You’ve got a life, that’s way too much responsibility.” “I’m not saying I spend all my time with you,” Jen clarified. “But split six ways, that’s not too bad, is it?” Daniel blinked, trying to do the math. With an average of half a dozen classes and three meals on any given day, that meant more than half of their time was occupied, but not five sixths. “I don’t follow.” Slapping a hand to her head in mock salute, Radha said, “I promise to do my duty, sir!” That got through to him. “Wait–” “I like this plan,” Hazel added. “Just to be clear, if she tries to mess with him, I’m not above hitting back.” “Are you in, Cass?” Radha asked. Cassie blinked, seemingly shaken out of a distracted haze. Once she had her focus back on the conversation, she said, “Yeah, of course. We protect the sis–eh, we protect the people of our coven.” “Stop it!” Daniel interrupted. “You’re talking over me again.” “Sorry,” Radha said quickly, though her expression quickly changed to skepticism. “But do you want Rachel to have an open season on you?” “No,” Daniel said. “I’m sure that he has other ideas,” Cassie added. “What did you want to do, Danny?” Grumbling quietly, Daniel shook his head and conceded the point. “I just…want to be included, y’know? I know you’re looking out for me, but it’s my life.” “You’re right.” Jen touched his arm and smiled warmly, instantly vaporizing any of Daniel’s reservations, as well as any of his coherent thoughts. He didn’t quite turn into a drooling Cro-Magnon, though he noticed with annoyance that his diaper grew warm with the unconscious release of his bladder, a flood that was quickly dammed by another inconvenient boner. “I’m sure Asami and Mathilde will be on board too,” Radha supplied. “They’d better be, I’m not pulling double shifts,” Hazel added, flashing a smile that suggested she was kidding. Trying to take control of the situation, Daniel said, “I’ll get my class schedule. I think I’m almost always in a class with at least one of you, so as long as we’re headed to the same place, it won’t be much of an inconvenience. I just hope you like hanging out in the library after dinner.” “Why not just come to the common area?” Jen asked. “Aren’t the dorms ‘Girls only’?” Daniel asked. “Not the common area, it’s just…basically a lounge, really,” Jen said. “I’d…kind of been wondering why you never came around there, did you really think you were banned?” “I guess I never really thought about it, since I’m never in that part of the school,” Daniel admitted. “But, okay, that works. And, eh…I will need escorted back to my room sometimes, too.” “And someone to be there in the morning by eight, of course,” Jen finished. “But I’m a morning person, I can take those shifts.” “I’m a morning person too,” Cassie added quickly. “Since when?” Hazel asked. “We can take turns,” Cassie clarified. “And any night owls can take him back to his room at night.” “If he’s not already there with Jen,” Hazel teased. Daniel rolled his eyes once more, but he couldn’t hide the relief he felt. Rachel might have been better at magic than him, and have more authority, but he had friends. That would be enough. ... Have I mentioned recently that I run a Discord server for ABDL authors, and it includes a full archive of my work? https://discord.gg/FvyTkRu And of course, author support is always greatly appreciated, I couldn't pay the bills without y'all! https://reamstories.com/peculiarchangelingabdl https://reamstories.com/peculiarchangelingabdl

Part Three I froze. I didn’t like to be cliche, but it was hard to think of another metaphor besides ‘deer in the headlights’. Hannah looked at me, I looked at Hannah, and while under her revealing gaze I could not bring myself to move. The idea of speaking, of saying, ‘I can explain’, occurred to me, but I quickly dismissed the idea. I couldn’t explain, even if I had the capacity to speak. “Is that my dress?” she asked. It wasn’t the detail I would have started with, but at least it had a simple answer. I nodded weakly. She stared a little longer, drinking me in, from my hair to my dress to my puffy diaper. I held my breath. (Fuck, fuck, fuck–) Blinking, I looked away, baffled. “Isn’t this what you wanted?” (I hoped–) “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Hannah, assuming I’d directed the question at her, stepped forward. “I didn’t…oh. Oh.” Realization struck her. She began to laugh. “Oh my god,” she wheezed, leaning against the wall to catch herself from falling. I was falling, too, sinking into myself as my world crashed around me. (No, no, no,) the voice added, horror clear in the repetition. (Please, no–) “Are you wearing a diaper?” Hannah asked, wiping away tears. “Just a ‘widdle baby giwl’? And…you actually put on makeup?” “I…” She shook her head, the surface tension of her laughter breaking as she recognized something on my face. “I bet Ruth put you up to this, she can sound just like me,” she promised. “Let me guess, you got a call earlier today from ‘me’, saying I wanted something special tonight?” Blinking repeatedly to keep away the tears that threatened to streak my fresh makeup, I tried to follow what she’d said. Ruth, her sister. She thought this was all a prank. (This was a bad idea. I fucked it up. Don’t tell her the truth. Pretend it’s a prank, just go along with it, this isn’t going to go well!) “Oh.” I tried to keep my tone level. “I…I guess I fell for it.” “You’re a cutie pie,” she assured me, covering her hand with her mouth as another burst of giggles bubbled up inside her. “And I appreciate that you’re willing to try new things for me! What did Ruth say, I wanted you to dress up like a little baby doll and we could play ‘house’? If I’d have known, I would have found a briefcase and a suit somewhere so I could play into the bit.” “Um–” I stammered, still frozen in place. “Yeah.” (If that’s not an eggy statement, I don’t know what is.) Blinking, I looked down. “What?” Approaching another step, a grin still on her face, Hannah said, “I can see it now–I’d be the big strong daddy coming home from a day at the Business Factory, and then I’d find my naughty baby got into mommy’s clothes and started playing dress up, and I’d have to give you a spanking, then…well I guess we’d bang?” I tried to match her energy and chuckled nervously, rubbing at the back of my neck. (Okay, we can recover this. It’s fine. Nothing horrible has happened yet, you can still hear me, we’re just still at square one. Play it cool, and…who am I kidding, you can’t play it cool. Just don’t say anything.) Hannah hesitated. Her smirk faltered, then returned, and she reached down to dig into her purse. “Here, hold on…” Fumbling for a moment, she took out an eyeliner pencil turned away, marking something on her face. When she turned back to me, she had an obviously fake pencil mustache over her lip. Putting on a comically deep voice, she said, “Oh baby, I’m home!” I looked down at my toes. (Okay, say something, you can’t just go mute.) “Uh…” I started. “Come on,” she said, stepping closer and gently punching me in the arm. “It’s funny! I’m not laughing at you.” “Right…” “Though, you are cute when you blush,” she said, eyes tracing down to around my waist. “And that does make your booty super cute. I guess I know what the ‘baby’ in ‘Baby Got Back’ refers to.” My face burned more, shame making me feel like I would turn to lead and fall through the floor. “Sweetie, that was a joke too.” She tilted her head and looked at me. “Come on, let’s get you dressed in something a little more manly and we can go get dinner like we’d planned.” She took my arm and tugged me towards the bedroom. I almost fell, stumbling, caught off guard by the motion. Turning to face me once again, Hannah frowned. “Sweetie?” “I…” (No, I know what you’re going to say, just shut up, abort, don’t change things any more–) It was too late. Tears were welling in my eyes again and I couldn’t pretend. Words failed me, but Hannah got it. “...Ruth never called you, did she?” she asked. I shook my head. “So all this…” she gestured at me, at my dress, at my diaper. “What is this?” (You’re going to ruin everything, shut up, just–) Tears welled in my eyes and I shut out her voice in my head. “This is me.” Hannah’s eyes widened. “What does that mean?” “I think…” I began, struggling to find the words. (It’s not working!) I fell silent, not because the voice insisted I had to, but because I couldn’t find the words. Hannah put her hands on my shoulders. She had to stand up on the balls of her feet to reach me, but she put her lips on mine, kissing away my fears. When we parted, she whispered, “Whatever you are, you can be that person with me.” I felt numb, but the pins and needles disassociation had been replaced with euphoria, a druggy high. She hadn’t walked away, she hadn’t rejected me. The voice in my head seemed as shocked as I felt. (What?) “I love you,” I blurted, unable to think of anything else. “I love you so much.” “I love you too,” Hannah said. (God, he’s perfect,) the voice thought. (You’d better not lose him again.) I tried to mask my confusion, but there were enough conflicting emotions already coursing through me that I needn’t have bothered. “I don’t know if I can explain.” “You feel like a woman?” Hannah suggested, gently looking me up and down. “Trapped in a man’s body?” (...ugh. Almost perfect, but god that’s dated.) “Shut…” I started, before shaking my head. “Sorry, there’s an annoying voice in my head, I want it to shut up. I don’t know how I feel, I just…I’m still figuring this out.” Stepping back and glancing down, Hannah added, “I might need you to explain the diaper.” “Honestly, I wish I could.” a nervous chuckle escaped me. “I’m not sure I really understand it either.” Reaching down, she gave my butt a gentle pat, which produced a crinkling and made me squirm. “Well…do you need that stern daddy to come home and play house?” My eyes widened. “I…” “I won’t give you a spanking, I promise.” Her wry smile lacked the mocking mirth from before, the humor was purely flirtatious. “You seem like you were waiting for me to take the lead, is all. And…I think I don’t hate the idea, honestly. You’re a cute girl.” (Okay, this is…ugh. What is wrong? He’s getting it, but he’s not getting it. How are you going to mess this up now?) I paused. I wanted to respond to the voice, but I didn’t want to look utterly insane in front of Hannah. “Can you give me a moment? I need to…uh…use the bathroom.” She raised an eyebrow and the corner of her mouth curled up. “Aren’t you wearing it?” “I…” A flush rose up my cheeks, tingling with all sorts of emotions I couldn’t deny were pleasant. “Teasing. Of course. But when you’re done, I want to talk about all this.” She gave me a light smooch on the cheek and pulled away, giving me space to retreat to the privacy of my bathroom. Turning, I hurried away, turned on the circulation fan, and whispered, “What now?” (Nothing’s changed.) “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I said. “Everything is different. Isn’t this what you wanted?” (No! You’re going to relapse, you’re going to shove yourself back in the closet–nothing is different here, so somehow, I’m still going to end up like this, and it’s your fault.) I turned and looked in the mirror again, facing myself. I felt crazy saying it aloud, but then again, ‘feeling crazy’ had defined my day. “You’re me, aren’t you?” I couldn’t lie to myself. (Yes.) “So you’re…what, the Ghost of Christmas Future?” I asked. “Trying to set me on a different life path?” Her voice…my voice, really, felt fainter. (Yes, and…you’re making this harder.) “How? Why didn’t you just tell me this right away?” (Because the more you change, the harder it is for me to stick around. It’s too difficult to explain, but if my history is too different from your future, I won’t be able to talk to you any more. I can’t control you any more, you’ve gotten too far away, I’m reduced to just feeling you.) That explained a lot, and yet cleared nothing up. “Then…that’s a good thing, right?” (No! Because I’m in your future, and nothing has changed. I still never started HRT, I still wasted decades, I still…lost Sam. I figured this all out too late, and I was too scared to act on it.) “Who’s–” (You’re calling him Hannah, still, but he’ll figure it out eventually.) I looked at myself. “I don’t know what to do with this information.” (You’re going to fuck it up. You’re going to relapse. If you were going to change things, I’d be able to see it, but my future is still just…nothing. It’s still too late to do anything.) I got a sinking feeling, sympathetic fear that I knew what the issue was. “Nothing has changed for you? Nothing at all?” (...no.) “Then I’m going to go get a tattoo tomorrow,” I said. “Of a…I don’t know…a Yin Yang on my ankle. I promise. That part of your timeline is changed, I’m going to do it.” (No. No.) “Is it there?” I asked. I knew the answer from my silence alone. “You aren’t changing your past,” I said. “You’re creating a new timeline. It’s Terminator 2, not Terminator.” (This was never going to work,) my future self said, despair creeping in. (I just…) “Hey,” I said. “It did work. You saved me.” (But I didn’t save me.) “You said a couple decades,” I said. “You’re in your forties now, right?” (Yes.) “Life expectancy is supposed to go up, so you’ve still got a ton of time left. Why can’t you use it?” (You sweet summer child,) I thought to myself. (I wish I could tell you what the future holds, but I’m already slipping.) “An hour ago,” I said, “I never even thought this was possible. You changed that. And if you can do it for me, you can do it for…well, me.” My future self didn’t respond, but I wrapped my arms around my body, squeezing in a tight hug, hoping that my future self could still feel it. I heard a sob in my mind, and squeezed the hug a little tighter. “You can do this,” I whispered. “You’re strong enough to do this, and you don’t need time travel.” (I can’t.) “You already did, to me. Just do it again.” I could read into my own silence, the familiar, paralyzing uncertainty I’d felt only minutes before. Pulling my arms as tight as they would go without discomfort, I said, “Thank you. I love you.” I hadn’t said that to myself before, but I meant it, and I knew I meant it. (I love you too.) I knew that I meant it then, just the same. (I can’t hold on much longer.) I smiled into the mirror, though tears were welling up in my eyes again. The woman who looked back at me was beautiful in her joy. “That’s okay. You did enough already.” (Take care of yourself. Don’t do the Atkins Diet thing, it won’t help. And don’t lend dad money when he asks in a couple years.) My voice had the tone of a concerned mother, giving advice before sending her child to school, giving whatever warnings she could before saying goodbye. Their voice was fading already, slipping with every word. “Okay,” I said, laughing. “Sure.” (Also, don’t be fashy about it, but when it comes out you should buy bitcoi–) The voice in my head went away, and I was left with myself, face streaked with happy tears. Hannah, or Sam, was waiting for me in my apartment’s living room. I didn’t know what my future was going to be, but I knew for certain that I was going to be me. The End ... Support is always appreciated. If you're interested in something less introspective and more smutty, a new short story, "Truth or Dare", is now in early access for my subs! https://subscribestar.adult/peculiarchangeling https://reamstories.com/peculiarchangelingabdl

Part Two My fingers trembled as I hooked my thumbs inside the waistband of my pants, dropping them to the floor of my bedroom. I couldn’t stop myself, I couldn’t convince my hands to disobey the voice that’d taken over, I could only strip one layer of clothing away at a time until I stood naked in my room. Discomfort flooded me as my boxers fell to the floor, and I heard something like sympathy from the voice as she shared in my disquieting nudity. (I’m sorry about this.) “Then stop,” I pleaded. (I’m not that sorry. It’s for your own good.) I stepped to my bed, where the package of pink women’s diapers sat waiting to be worn. Under the voice’s control, I ripped open the plastic packaging and took out a diaper, turning it over in my hands. The plastic backing crinkled softly under my fingertips, soft and smooth and charged with static. Unfolding the diaper out on the bed, I smoothed it with a strange sense of care, spreading it out into an hourglass as though I were laying out a blanket for a baby. I checked the tapes to ensure nothing had stuck to itself or folded over oddly, then I creased the padding down the middle to fluff it up. (You’re going to be a good baby,) the voice explained. (And you’re not going to argue. Understood?) “If anyone sees me like this, I…I don’t even know what I’ll do.” I stammered. Positioning myself, I laid down on top of the diaper, adjusting it so that it sat evenly beneath my waist. (You won’t do anything.) “You’re going to let me go, right?” I demanded, pushing up onto my elbows. The moment of resistance only lasted for a moment, and I flopped back down onto my back almost instantly so that I could focus on pulling the diaper up between my hips. Pulling it over my nakedness, I smoothed it out, then held things in place with one hand while I tugged on the tapes with the other. “You can’t just…control me forever. I won’t let you!” (Ugh, I should have expected brat behavior. No, I won’t be here forever, just…stop squirming.) The diaper sat around my hips, snug and secure, and I stared down at it, shame and uncertainty washing away any coherent thoughts. I looked ridiculous. A grown man wearing a pink women’s diaper, lying there on my bed like some stupid doll dressed up by my invisible puppeteer. “What do you want?” (I want what’s best for you.) “You’re ruining my life!” My body stiffened and I sat rigidly upright, turning to face myself in the mirror tha sat atop my dresser. I could see fury in my eyes, and though I didn’t speak, I saw my lips move in the reflection to match her voice. (I’m ruining your life? Bullshit. You’re ruining your life, that’s why I have to do this–so you don’t waste it.) Lips quivering, I tried to reply. “I don’t understand–” (No, you don’t,) she interrupted. (Look at yourself. Right now.) I couldn’t disobey. Staring at myself in the mirror, I saw a disquieting portrait of my body: Awkward, ugly, unkempt. I didn’t need the diaper to feel humiliated by my appearance, that only added emphatic shame to the rest of the look. I sniffled, tears welling up in my eyes. (Oh, goddammit. No, this…no. Stop. You’re going to like this, we just have to keep going.) She used my hand to wipe at my eyes, but that was all the comfort I was allowed. She stood, and without another word, walked to my dresser. At least I would get some clothes, something to cover up… I knelt. “Wait–” I reached for the bottom drawer, the one I’d reserved for my girlfriend, Hannah. The voice didn’t waste time. Pulling the drawer open, she selected a pastel yellow sundress. I stood and let the dress hang in front of me, inspecting myself in the dresser mirror. I was taller than Hannah, but lanky. The dress would go over my shoulders, but it wouldn’t fall much below my waist, barely functioning as more than a blouse, exposing the puffy pink diaper beneath for all to see. “Please,” I whimpered, but I couldn’t stop myself. I pulled the dress over my head, arms sliding through the short sleeves, and the soft fabric fell down over my body. Turning to face myself in the mirror again, I, b Oi xoivjha Fdwe084y23t1qh0 … An error has occurred. To continue: Press Enter to return to body. … Fuck Fuck I was crying again. The voice in my head spoke up. (You get it now, right?) “No,” I said, but it was a lie, and I couldn’t lie to myself. (You’ve known since you watched To Wong Foo. You’ve known since you first saw Xena. You’ve known since you were old enough to know the difference between boys and girls.) “I’m not…” (You are. This is you.) “No–” (Yes. Look at yourself. This is you. You are a woman, and you need to stop acting like you’re not, or you’re going to waste the next twenty-four years of your life waiting for something to change. It’s not going to change.) I was on my knees, my reflection blurred by tears. She wasn’t wrong. I couldn’t lie to myself, not when the truth was staring me in the face. (How do you feel?) None of this made sense. It was like a fever dream, or a messed-up drug trip. I couldn’t stop myself, I couldn’t fight. My entire world had just collapsed like a house of cards, and now she was asking how I felt. “What the fuck is wrong with you?” (Oh, goddammit.) I wiped at my eyes and wrapped my arms around myself, squeezing in a close semblance of a hug. (Look, I…if I explain, you have to stop fighting me.) “Am I fighting?” I demanded, incredulous. (Yeah, but…look. You don’t know, you can’t possibly know, but you asked for this. Once I’m done, it will make more sense.) “When did I ask for this?” I demanded, sniffling. “And what even are you? A ghost? Or am I just losing my mind?” (Shh. Just sit here for a minute.) “Fuck you!” I wanted to rip away, to throw a tantrum, to rip the dress off my body and deny that this had ever happened. I couldn’t, I could only sit there, quietly holding myself, rocking gently back and forth. (The more I tell you, the harder this is. I just need you to trust me. I love you. I want what’s best for you.) The tears sprang up again, choking sobs that I couldn’t control any more than I could control my arms and legs. (I wish I didn’t have to rip the band-aid off like this, but there was no other way. The longer I’m here, the harder it is to stay, and we’re too stupid to get subtle hints. You needed this.) “I wish I didn’t know. I wish you hadn’t told me. I…I can’t do this.” (You can. Sa…Hannah will be there to support you. You’re a girl. You’re a Little, too. This is how you’re supposed to be.) “What the hell is a Little?” (Figure it out.) I wiped at my face. I wiped at my face. Not her. My arm moved under my own power. Sniffling, I said, “Thanks.” (I didn’t do that.) “Thank you for letting me.” (...right.) I looked down at myself, then up in the mirror again. Even with my hair around my shoulders, and the dress, and the…women’s underwear…I still didn’t really look like a girl. It didn’t look right. “I hate this.” (The makeup will help.) Waiting for a moment for the voice to move me, I frowned. “Are you going to…?” (I can’t make you act. You’re…too far along, now. You’ll have to do it yourself.) “So I could rip this all off and walk away?” I asked. “You wouldn’t be able to stop me?” (Please…please don’t. We both need this.) For a long moment I considered it, staring at my reflection. I could put this behind me, I could pretend that this was all a bad dream and never think about it again. But…I couldn’t lie to myself. “You’re not real,” I said. “Not like…really real. You’re just me, aren’t you?” (I’m you,) she replied. (But I’m real.) I scooped up the plastic bag from the pharmacy and poured its contents out on top of my dresser. I still didn’t know how to apply most of it; whatever self-discovery I’d undergone, being a woman didn’t endow me with instinctual makeup knowledge. I stared for a few moments, helpless, then asked, “Which…what do I do here?” A twitch in my fingers compelled my hand forward. “I thought you couldn’t move me any more?” (I can’t make you do anything. I’m not gone.) Hesitating, I relaxed and let the tension fall out of my arms. “Then, could you just show me?” The voice tone took on a hint of warmth, the first note of kindness I could recall from her. (Of course.) Reaching out with steady hands, she guided me through the makeup products, slowly building shadows and altering my features. It felt like watching a sculptor in timelapse, carving out the face one pencil mark or brush stroke at a time. With more deft control of my hands than I could have managed myself, she took out the hair ties and gave me a pair of loose pigtails, completing the look. It was…me. Every part of the image in the mirror. (There’s a lot more you can do, but you’ll have to learn some of it for yourself.) “Why can’t you help?” (The more I change things, the harder it is to stay. It’s like pulling out jenga blocks while standing on the tower, eventually it’ll collapse out from under you.) “You’re…not just a voice in my head, are you?” I asked. It felt stupid, and impossible, but if I was really just going crazy, there wouldn’t be anyone to hear me ask the absurd question. “You’re…my future.” I felt something in my mind slip, and her voice sounded a little fainter. (Yes. And no, I can’t tell you what it’s like. I’d lose you immediately.) “Why were you so cruel?” (I had to do it this way, you needed the shock.) I couldn’t lie to myself. “That’s not everything.” (It is,) she–I–lied. I wanted to interrogate her, to keep questioning, but the opportunity vanished when I heard the sound of gentle footsteps and jangling keys. Hannah. “Oh–” I started. “Wait, but–” (Let her see,) the voice promised me. (She’ll support you. I promise.) I didn’t believe her. It wasn’t a matter of trust, but of simple impossibility. How could Hannah see me, like this, and do anything except reject me? (Oh, and…) “What are you–” I started, but I didn’t want Hannah to hear me talk to a voice in my head, so when my front door opened, I shut up. Hannah called my name, and in that same moment, my bladder released, prompted forward by my future self. Warmth splashed into the diaper and spread between my thighs, quickly soaking the diaper, staining it visibly and obviously. I turned, surprise and shame burning on my face, but even if I had time to cover myself up, I didn’t have the capacity to move an inch. Hannah’s keys jangled as she set them in the bowl by the door, and she called out my name, feet creaking on the wooden floor. “Are you in here?” she continued, swinging the bedroom door open to find me. Eyes huge, wearing makeup and a diaper and one of Hannah’s own dresses, I stared, watching my girlfriend as she in turn saw me for the first time. ... Support for this program is sponsored by readers like you! https://reamstories.com/peculiarchangelingabdl https://subscribestar.adult/peculiarchangeling

Written in collaboration with Joanna. This work wouldn't be possible without her. ... This story contains very strong themes of gender and self identity. ... Part 1 “I need a haircut.” Half-dressed and still damp from the shower, I stared into my bathroom mirror and debated my appearance with myself. I’d made a sport of that, volleying back and forth, never letting the ball drop until I was out of time and didn’t have to decide anything. My hair was the big sticking point. I couldn’t decide how I wanted it cut, so it just continued to grow into a tangled mop. If I shaved it all off, I’d just look like a flabbier Slim Shady, and I didn’t trust myself to do any grooming or maintenance to make a more fashionable cut look decent. If I could have managed that, I could have managed to actually get to a barber and get it cut. I hated how it looked long, but I hated the idea of cutting it short even more. Besides, my strategy had worked. I only had about an hour before Hannah would arrive, that wasn’t enough time to go out for a cut, now I just had to make myself look vaguely presentable for date night. Turning away from the bathroom mirror, I– (–coming through any moment now.) “What the fuck?” I blurted, stumbling back when I heard the feminine speaker. “Who said that?” (Oh, good, you can hear me.) I spun like a top, looking for the source of the voice, though it didn’t sound like it was in the room anywhere–she was in my head. “Hear–how did you get into my apartment?” (I’m not in your apartment. Look, I can’t really explain, but I know some things you don’t, and I need you to do what I say.) I raised my arms and balled my hands into fists, trying to look tough. I could see my reflection still, and I knew that the act wouldn’t fool anyone, but I had to try and keep up appearances, didn’t I? “Look, lady, I don’t know who you are, but I will mess you up–” (Oh right, you’re in your martial arts phase. God, you’re annoying.) I hesitated. I’d been meaning to go take a karate lesson for months, but I hadn’t told anyone about that. Was this the girl from the Blockbuster? She would at least know I’d rented all those Jackie Chan movies, but why was she here? (Look. Just do what I say, and this will all go smoother.) “But–” (Get your hairbrush. We’re going to see what we can do with that rat’s nest of yours.) I frowned. “I don’t own a hairbrush.” (Yes you do. Bottom drawer, underneath the towels.) My eyes widened. How did she know that? (I know where you keep your stuff. If you keep fussing–) “Get out of my head!” I screamed and spun, rushing to leave the bathroom. Before I could take two steps, I froze, body paralyzed mid-stride, and the voice piped up, (You asked for the hard way, then.) I turned, rotating back towards my bathroom cabinet against my will. It wasn’t like being puppeteered, exactly, but it felt like I was moving in a dream, unable to stop myself as I knelt to open the bottom drawer and take out the hairbrush I’d hidden there. Standing, I looked in the mirror, fingers shaking as I raised the cheap dollar store brush and, without wasting a second, began to pull it through my hair. It immediately caught on a tangle, but my hand refused to stop, pulling and tugging through the dark, tousled locks to straighten them out. “Ow!” I yelped, as the sting of pulling hair prickled down my scalp. (Don’t be such a baby,) the voice replied. (Or do, I don’t care, but we’re fixing this either way.) I moved–or they moved, it wasn’t totally clear–quickly. Working one section at a time, I detangled my hair, pulling it straight and smooth. With every tug of the brush I winced, but my hands continued to work of their own volition until my hair hung down to my shoulders in a loose but even halo. I hadn’t brushed it out in I-didn’t-know-how-long, but it looked… Different. Not better, but longer. Almost girly. Maybe I could pass it off as Kurt Cobain-esque, if I had to, but this just emphasized that I needed to get it cut. (Okay, that’s a first step. I don’t think you have any hair ties, so get your keys, we’re going out.) I felt the pressure on my body slacken, momentarily able to move under my own power. “I don’t have a car.” (Right, you don’t even have your license yet, you’re such a passenger princess.) “A what?” (Fine, the pharmacy’s not far. We’ll walk.) Before I could object further, my legs began to move, compelled to start marching. I tried to fight, to grab onto the doorframe or dig in my heels, but my body moved like an automaton, ignoring all my efforts to make myself stop. “What are you doing?” I demanded. “Who are you? What do you want?” (I can’t tell you any of that.) “Hannah will be here soon, she–” (We’ll deal with… your date when they get here. You first.) I had enough control to swallow on a dry throat, though that’s about as far as my own impulses could get me. The force possessing my body retrieved my apartment key from the hook by the door and marched me down the stairs, off to buy…hair ties. As I was made to stroll down the street. My block wasn’t the most trafficked in the city, but nor was it abandoned, and I felt acutely aware of the fact that this voice had control over me. She could run me out into the street, or make me strip, or anything, and I couldn’t stop her. “Please, I’ll give you whatever you want.” (You’re going to,) she replied. (You just have to trust me here.) Her walk had more confidence than mine, something I could feel in the subtle movement of my hips, in her posture, in the way she kept her head up. It felt like she was trying to strut my body out on a runway, to make sure everyone could see what she was doing. She forced me into the pharmacy, and I darted my eyes back and forth, wondering if I could somehow get help. I could still talk, but what would I say? ‘Help, I’m being possessed?’ I didn’t even know if this was a ghost or a government experiment or just a psychotic break, how would I ask for help? The voice grabbed a cart, then walked me up the hair care aisle and nabbed a pair of hair ties as well as three kinds of shampoo. (You’re using this from now on, that forty-in-one garbage is not cutting it.) “From now on?” (Shut up and listen. Haircare, skincare. If you don’t do this now, you’ll regret it later.) Moving down the aisle, she made me reach out and select a set of creams and another of moisturizers, and then she got to the makeup. My heart began to beat faster. “What are you doing?” (I’m not wasting time.) Foundation, concealer, powders and creams and nonsense I didn’t even know what to call. I never came down this aisle, it wasn’t for boys, just standing here sent spikes of anxiety down my back. The voice moved quickly. She knew my skin tone at a glance, apparently, because she didn’t need to compare anything, she just selected what she needed and used my own hands to toss it into the shopping cart. “Is that it?” I whimpered. I shook my own head, and she replied, (Not even a little bit.) Sashaying my hips between different shelves, she checked the different signs and turned into the aisle labeled ‘Incontinence’. “Hold up.” I managed to throw a hitch into my step, but that was the totality of my resistance. The voice in my head steered me towards the diapers, and I could do nothing to resist. Moving with purpose, I scanned the available offerings and scoffed. (God, store diapers are awful. You’ll have to make do, I guess.) “Why are you buying diapers?” I hissed, struggling to keep my hands from reaching out for a pack of pink ‘heavy duty’ diapers with a stylish woman modeling on the package. It felt like resisting the pull of an infinitely strong magnet, and the more I fought, the harder the force against me grew. (You’re not this stupid. Tell me you were never this stupid. You can’t figure it out?) “No!” I blurted, loud enough that my shout echoed through the store. A passing shopper glanced down the aisle at me, and I could only blush as I held the package of diapers and stuck them in my cart while he stared. (There, you threw your tantrum, now everybody’s watching. Are you happy?) “No,” I repeated more quietly, as the voice made me deposit the diapers in my cart. After nabbing a package of wipes and a tube of powder, they steered me towards checkout. I recognized the cashier by face, though not name–he was a bit on the old side, though not quite yet in the ‘grandpa’ zone, and he beamed brightly when I rolled my cart up to his register. In return, I could only burn red, blushing until I thought my long locks of hair would catch fire. He noticed the diapers, and I caught a sympathetic curl of his lips, but he didn’t say anything as he stuffed the package into a thin shopping bag. Through the sheer plastic, the label, ‘Adult Incontinence Briefs - 24/7’ shone through as plainly as if it were in neon, and I recalled the block-and-a-half between here and home. “Can I…get an extra bag?” I asked sheepishly, and the voice even let me rub at the back of my neck. He glanced up at me and smiled, in what I’m sure was supposed to be a reassuring way. “Here, let’s do this.” Reaching beneath his counter, he took out a newspaper-print coupon page and tucked it into the bag, using one to cover each side of the diaper packaging. The top still poked out visibly, and his action had only called attention to the humiliating packaging. It was about as useful as… (That’s as helpful as a tissue paper parachute,) the voice in my head thought, finishing the thought before I could complete it. Shuddering at the realization she could hear my thoughts as well, I reached out and took the package from the cashier. My dignity had been shattered in front of him, but at least he’d tried to be considerate. I mumbled a weak ‘thanks’ as I paid, then took my bags and began the trek home. My hands trembled as I walked out onto the street, knowing what came next. This…voice, whatever she was, hadn’t been coy about her intentions. She wanted to march me home, put me in makeup, and make me wear a diaper. And yet…I wasn’t fighting her. I told myself that fighting would be useless, that I couldn’t resist. I had a bad poker face, and I argued with myself too often to believe my own bullshit. I was a moth, reaching out towards a candle flame. I knew it was going to burn, but some part of me refused to back away until I’d touched it, because I had to know what it felt like. Fiddling with my keys, I reentered my apartment building. A neighbor was checking her mail as I walked past, and I felt certain she could see the pink package of puffy diapers poking out from the shopping bag, but she didn’t seem to react. Once back in my home, I dropped the bag to the floor. (We’re getting you dressed,) the voice explained. (It’s your choice whether we do this the easy way or the hard way.) “Will you just tell me why you’re doing this?” I whispered. I felt the pause in my mind, like a long sigh. (I guess I can’t blame you for asking.) “So are you going to tell me?” (If you promise not to drag your feet.) I didn’t see that I had a choice one way or another, and I wanted answers. I had to know, to regain some sense of control. Besides, I needed to get out of this before Hannah arrived, and I couldn’t do that by stalling. “I promise, then.” (I’m making up for lost time, fixing things before it’s too late. You’re going to thank me, someday.) “That…” I began. “That doesn’t clear anything up.” (Too bad.) “We had a deal!” (Then I lied, because that’s all I’m telling you.) Forcing me to crouch, the voice and I picked up the bag of diapers. (It looks like we’re doing this the hard way.) ... My subs get early access, and financial support helps me write more stories like this! https://reamstories.com/peculiarchangelingabdl https://subscribestar.adult/peculiarchangeling

Chapter 14: Hot & Bothered “Oh my god.” Melody’s eyes were wide and her grin was broad as she pulled out onto the street. “Skip, that was…” “It’s fun to tell someone to fuck off,” Skip confirmed, downplaying the swell of satisfaction they felt. Nobody got to go after Melody like that, even if Melody maybe deserved it. “No, I mean,” Melody said. “I’m saying this in a purely platonic way, but that was fucking hot.” Caught off guard, it took Skip a moment to catch up to Melody’s thought process. “Because I went to bat for you?” “Because, like…” Melody thought for a moment. “‘Fuck you’? ‘Get in line’? Jesus christ, Skip, if you actually wanted to act on it, you’d be unstoppable. You have game.” Skip flushed at the compliment, and immediately sought out a way to deflect and undercut the tension in the conversation. “I think the kids call it ‘Rizz’ now. I’m what you could call a Rizz Master.” Melody snorted, a laugh devoid of self-consciousness. “And then you say stuff like that, which is the opposite of horny.” (Perfect.) Skip laughed along, relaxing into the passenger seat. “Anyway, I was only half-serious about ordering in, but we should probably figure something out for food.” “Tim Hortons?” Melody suggested. “I’m pretty sure I don’t have any exes that work there.” Skip nodded. “Perfect.” Full of confidence, they pulled into the coffee chain’s parking lot and went inside, both bubbling with infectious giggles. Waltzing to the counter, Melody said, “Can I get two large double doubles and a couple breakfast biscuits?” “You’re hungry,” Skip quipped. “And thirsty, for that matter.” “I’m ordering for you,” Melody said. “You always get the same thing.” Skip almost ordered something else just out of pure contrarianism, but they shrugged and let it go. Melody wasn’t wrong, and there was nothing wrong with Melody pegging their breakfast preferences. While they waited for their food, Melody took out her phone, and her fingers blurred over the keyboard. The specifics passed by too quickly and at too steep an angle to read, but Skip was certain they saw the word ‘diaper’ flash by. “Who are you texting?” They inquired. “Grace, I’m asking where she got those diapers,” Melody replied without looking up from her phone. “I don’t imagine we’ll need many more, but I don’t want to have to pester her anytime you break a rule.” Skip pursed their lips. “Ah.” Melody paused, then looked up. “Sorry. I don’t think anyone would overhear us in here, but I can keep my voice down.” Skip looked away, choosing not to press the issue, but it was too late–Melody was watching them, and saw their face. “If you don’t want to keep using that as a default punishment, I’m happy to find something else,” Melody assured them, though in a ‘I can trade shifts if you want’ way, not a ‘I recognize this caused you serious distress’ way. “It just seemed like it worked pretty well.” “No, that part’s fine.” Skip looked back at the counter, momentarily hoping that their food would arrive and provide a diversion, but they had no such luck. “I kinda wish you hadn’t gotten Grace and Pearce involved, is all.” Their own candor surprised them, but Melody just tilted her head. “Oh? I don’t think they’ll be weird about it.” “Oh, definitely not, at least on purpose,” Skip said. “But Pearce runs his mouth when he gets high, and you know how catty Grace can be when she’s drunk–it just seems like it’ll lead to some weird moments if we keep involving them. Plus, I told Pearce we weren’t really going to be doing any ‘Uwu baby small bean’ stuff in the book, and I don’t want to look like a liar.” Melody was about to respond, and Skip’s fears spiked, half expecting her to shoot down the concern out of hand and ignore Skip’s protests. Before she could say anything, though, the guy behind the counter set out two tall cups of coffee and a paper sack and called out, “Two coffees and two breakfast sandwiches!” “Hold that thought,” Melody said, waltzing to scoop up their food. Holding one coffee in each hand and pinching the paper sack between a couple fingers, she scoped out a table, nodded, and moved towards it, assuming Skip would follow. Skip did follow, of course. What else would they do, go sit somewhere else? Sliding into the booth across from Melody, they waited, shifting from side to side as she got out the sandwiches and passed one over. Biting into her own, she said, “I didn’t realize how hungry I was.” (Can you respond to what I said, please?) Skip asked, mellowly replying, “Yeah, that happens.” Melody chewed, swallowed, and took a long drink of her cream-and-sugar laden coffee. Finally, mercifully, she said, “Sorry if I made things weird, I didn’t really think about how it might be when they get inebriated.” That wasn’t really the point, but the important thing was that Melody took their concern seriously. “It’s not a big deal,” Skip hedged. “Really, I just like that this project is between us.” Melody smiled up at Skip, her expression warm and pleased, and– (What the fuck?) Eyes widening a touch, Melody asked, “Hey, are you okay?” “Uh…yeah, I just feel a little weird. I think I need to eat something.” “Did you have night lunch?” Melody asked. (That’s it. I didn’t eat anything because I was sitting in my room all night, like an idiot.) “No, it’s like you said, I didn’t realize I was hungry.” “Well, eat,” Melody pressed, concern plain on her face. She rarely looked that defensive, that protective. “And since I feel slightly responsible, if you are still hungry, I’ll definitely get you a second sandwich.” “Responsible?” “Well…I typically don’t feel hungry when I’m grossed out, and you said the diaper felt gross,” Melody surmised, casual and pleasant. “That’s probably why you weren’t thinking about food.” “That makes sense.” Melody’s eyes were bright and her smile pulled up at the corners of her mouth. It created tiny laugh lines, something Skip rarely noticed since Melody typically wore makeup. Skip ate, though the process felt mechanical and distant as confusion sent pinpricks down their limbs. They felt lightheaded or giddy, like they’d taken some mushrooms without realizing and were at the very start of an unexpected trip. As they worked through the greasy breakfast sandwich, Melody kept an eye on them, looking up from her own food every couple seconds with wary caution. “Is the food helping?” she asked. “Yeah.” It wasn’t helping. Once they’d finished the sandwich, Melody asked if they needed any more food, but they declined. Though they’d ordered a coffee–or, at least, Melody had ordered it for them–they didn’t drink it, expecting that the caffeine would only spike their anxiety to new heights. They retreated into their phone, trying to manage the strange, uncomfortable emotions flitting in their belly. Fingers touched Skip’s arm, and they looked to see Melody hand outstretched. Her face was warm and reassuring, like a nurse about to give bad news but without the condescension. “Let’s go back to the car.” “Okay?” Skip followed her away. Only once they were out of the coffee shop and in the privacy of the vehicle did Melody continue. “I know that you know, intellectually, what sub drop is, but I don’t think you’ve experienced it before. This is sub drop.” “I’m fine.” They were ready for an argument, to have to insist on their okay-ness, but Melody didn’t disagree. “You are. Feeling this way is normal, it’s not a mistake, it’s just something we need to watch out for and deal with. Like…stretching after a run.” The fluttering in Skip’s chest rose a bit. They felt sick and giddy, all at once. “I think I might barf.” “That might be from inhaling the breakfast,” Melody conceded. “Unless you caught something from that bitch at the diner.” Whatever was going on, that broke the spell. Skip laughed and the tension in their body unwound, relieving the pressure. “Probably food poisoning, not sub drop. It wasn’t a real scene.” “No, but you can still get tennis elbow without playing tennis,” Melody said. Skip laughed again. “You’re on it with the sports metaphors today. What jock are you, and what did you do with Melody?” “I know you were always the sporty one in school,” Melody said, “But I learned a few things from hanging around back then.” “Yeah.” Melody put a hand on Skip’s knee and squeezed gently, reassuring them of her presence. “You’re looking less like a sickly Victorian child now.” Skip stretched their leg, gently rebuffing the touch without pushing Melody away directly. “Damn, I was hoping for an extra serving of gruel.” “My offer to buy you seconds still stands, if you need more food,” she promised. Shaking their head, Skip searched in their emotions for a moment. “No, I think I really am doing better. Thanks for watching out, though, I don’t want to strain my anterior cruciate ligament due to repeated stresses without taking the proper preventative care. Metaphorically, of course.” Melody burst out with an undignified gulp of laughter, and Skip smiled with private pleasure at the reaction. They liked making her laugh. But… They still felt wrong. Less sick, less off balance, but still lightheaded. Like…hunger, except emotional, or maybe excitement without anticipation. “Let’s get you home, and you can rest,” Melody said. “Doctor Sports says you need to take some You Time, stat, and give your head a chance to decompress.” Skip nodded, and felt the need to offer one more compliment. “You’re good at this.” Melody beamed, glancing over at Skip as she pulled out of the parking lot. For whatever reason, the praise seemed to hit closer to home, and Melody glowed with Skip’s assurance of her competence. “Thanks. You are, too.” (I…) (Oh no.) (Oh no.) Skip had an inkling as to what they were feeling, and they didn’t like it. As they drove home, though, the sinking feeling of certainty rose in their mind, and they couldn’t shake the idea. Raising their phone with the screen slightly tilted so that Melody couldn’t catch the display out of the corner of her eye, they moved to incognito mode before making an anxious search. ‘What does it feel like to have a crush?’ ... Oh, oh no, oh no no no no-- (I'm so sorry to break this to you, Skip, but you don't fully understand yourself.) ... https://subscribestar.adult/peculiarchangeling https://reamstories.com/peculiarchangelingabdl

Chapter 28 Daniel held Jen’s hand as he looked around the corner, glancing both ways to make sure that the coast was clear. After their encounter in the hall, the simple contact of their hands felt different–he wasn’t just keeping her close, he was holding hands. “It’s not against the rules to have guests,” Jen pointed out. “I’m sure it’s fine if–” “If Rachel hears?” Daniel replied. “I’m not worried about having a friend in my room, I’m worried about her using that information to screw with us.” “Right, I’m following you.” Giggling, she added the punchline to her own statement. “I mean, I’m following you. That’s the idea, since you don’t know what your room number is.” Daniel rolled his eyes, but pulled her into the hallway and crept the last few paces to his dorm. “It’s weird that you don’t have a roommate,” Jen said, stepping in as he held the door for her. She twirled with her arms out, her skirt spinning like a parasol. “You have so much space to yourself!” “I guess,” Daniel said, rubbing at the back of his neck. “It’s…fine?” Crossing to the closed curtains against the wall, Jen asked, “What do you have set for your view?” A blush rushing to his cheeks, Daniel extended an arm to stop her, but it was too late. “Don’t–” She pulled the curtains wide, revealing the portrait Rachel had plastered there: Daniel, blushing as he held up his skirt and showed off his diaper. Jen stared for a moment, blinking in bafflement, then said, “Oh, crap, I remember you mentioned she did this. Do you want me to change it for you?” “Yes, please,” Daniel replied. Producing her wand, Jen asked, “How about a beach view? Or maybe a forest?” “Sure,” Daniel said, before thinking better of it. “Actually…make it a city street. Somewhere in New York.” “Like…Times Square?” “Nah, like something more…where people live,” Daniel said. “Like you’d look out the window of a brownstone and see a street bustling.” Jen cocked an eyebrow at him. “I don’t live in New York, I don’t know what that looks like.” “...Times Square is cool.” Daniel shrugged again, shifting from side to side uncomfortably. Now that she was in his room–now that anyone was in his room other than Daniel–he noticed how messy the place was. The bed unmade, the diaper pail full, his books and study notes spread haphazardly on the desk. He had not planned on having a girl over, let alone one that he’d just… “So we should talk about what we’re going to do now, right?” Jen asked, as the image on the wall warped and vibrated, turning from a humiliating portrait to a busy street scene. “I don’t want to mess with our friendship,” Daniel said quickly. “Oh, of course, like…how do I put this? I enjoyed making out, and I’d like to do it again, but I was serious when I said I didn’t want anything serious.” “Yeah, no, for sure,” Daniel agreed, though he mostly just didn’t know what he could even say ‘no’ to at that point. “I don’t want to be one of those people who gets into a relationship in college, then that becomes the only thing about them that matters. Studies still come first.” “And I’m happy to keep helping you with your control.” Jen glanced at his only chair, the one currently holding several books as though it were a pull-out shelf, then she sat down at the end of his bed. Rubbing the back of his neck, Daniel leaned against the far wall. “I guess…can we just–” Three loud THUDs cut him off as a fist pounded against his dorm room door. “Daniel–come out, I just want to talk.” Daniel felt his stomach drop as his flight-or-fight instinct rose. Rachel had come to him sooner than he’d expected. Facing Jen, he mouthed, ‘Hide!’ Brow furrowing, she mouthed back a message. He couldn’t read her lips, but he could understand her expression clearly enough: She didn’t know what to do, and she was panicked. Crouching, Daniel pointed under the bed, trying to make his point with gestures before he called back, “I–gimme a minute!” The sinking sensation in his guts took on new meaning a moment later, when Daniel realized that it wasn’t just an emotion or a vague sense of things. He was, literally, feeling weight drop out of his body, shifting to fill up the seat of his diaper instead. “No, no, no–” he mumbled, as Jen stared at him with wide eyes before finally getting it and dropping onto the floor so she could roll under the bed. Her hat was too big and bulky to remain in place as she crawled into her hiding spot, but she reached out and grabbed it like an occult archeologist. “I’m allowed to inspect your room, so open up before I do it myself,” Rachel snarled. Once certain that Jen was out of sight, Daniel turned, shame and fear mixing into a cocktail inside his brain. He reached out for the door handle, but found that he couldn’t turn it. A few seconds passed in paralyzed panic, and Daniel could only watch his hand tremble and feel his diaper sag as his body prepared to run from a predator. Before he could overcome his own better judgement and force himself to act, the door opened of its own accord and Rachel stepped in. His prefect’s triumphant grin only grew broader when she stepped into his dorm and wrinkled her nose. Daniel’s accident couldn’t be hidden, and the glee she took in watching him squirm was obvious. Pinching her nose for emphasis, Rachel asked, “Oh, are you one of those people who can’t go if there’s someone else in the room? Or–I’m sorry, you can’t help it at all, can you?” “Just…leave me alone, so I can get cleaned up, okay?” Daniel asked, avoiding eye contact with her. “Hardly. You were in the restricted section of the library, and now you’re going down.” Daniel thought about denying it. Then he saw the malice dancing in Rachel’s eyes, and decided to take a different tactic. “Yeah? And who, exactly, is going to believe you?” Rachel’s satisfaction flickered with uncertainty. “They trust me more than they trust a dweeb spark like you.” “Will they believe a spark can get past wards that are hundreds of years old?” Daniel asked. “Or will they think you’re just trying to get me in trouble?” “I–” Rachel began, before huffing in frustration, collecting herself, and producing her wand. “You want me to argue with you, but I don’t need to–you’re coming with me.” (I miscalculated again, didn’t I?) Daniel thought to himself, before a telekinetic force seized him by the ankle, hoisted him into the air, and flipped him upside down. His skirt flopped around the waist, diaper fully exposed, and Rachel’s satisfied grin grew back to its full strength. “How about we make a deal, spark?” she asked, dangling Daniel so that he was just high enough off the floor that his hair brushed against it. “You admit the truth, and I’ll stop reminding you what a pathetic excuse for a warlock you are. This low to the ground, Daniel could make eye contact with Jen, who had both hands over her mouth to stay silent as she watched the ankle-height drama she could draw line of sight to. Daniel couldn’t look weak in front of an audience, so through gritted teeth, he replied, “Screw you.” “Hard way it is,” Rachel replied casually. Shrugging one shoulder, she raised him up a bit higher, spinning him in place like a piece of meat on a vertical spit. “If I didn’t know better, I’d think you just wanted an excuse to show off your gross baby bottoms.” “You already cursed me, what’s the worst you can do now?” Daniel demanded. “That’s a stupid question, even coming from you,” Rachel replied. “Though I notice you haven’t given up and gone home yet–is that because you like huffing your own dirty diapers, or because you think you’re clever enough to lift the curse? Because let me tell you, you are not clever enough to lift that curse.” “I know I can’t counterspell it,” Daniel grumbled, kicking his legs in a feeble attempt to shake off her magic. “Oh, so you do like huffing your own dirty diapers,” Rachel completed. “That’s very big of you to admit.” “We both know I’m not going to tell you anything,” Daniel demanded, trying to remain tough. “This is a waste of time.” “And why’s that?” Rachel asked. “You think I can’t make you crack?” “I think there’s no point,” Daniel explained. “No teacher is going to believe that I broke through their wards, and you know I’m too crap at magic to even try. I could sing a confession off the top of Mount Everest, nobody would think I actually pulled it off. My word counts for shit, but I’d still win in a ‘He said, she said’ because nobody will think I am capable of beating the school’s wards. So…stop playing pretend. You’re just a cartoon bully, looking for an excuse, and claiming to be mad about whatever library crap you’re on about.” Tilting her head curiously, Rachel flicked her wand to the side. “A cartoon bully? You don’t have any lunch money, but I suppose I could give you a wedgie.” Daniel’s eyes widened. “No, wait–” The telekinetic force holding onto his ankle vanished, and the tight fist of her magic instead seized the back of Daniel’s diaper. He fell, and though the garment didn’t ride up between his cheeks in a painful, stinging way, all the weight of his body fell into the seat of his diaper and onto his groin, hitting Daniel with a humiliating squelch at the same time as a shock of pain. Dangling, weight fully supported by his diaper, Daniel kicked his legs but found no purchase, no support to take the pressure off. If he leaned back, it caused his most recent accident to smush around against his skin, but that was still better than leaning forward and experiencing an acute ache in his balls. Whimpering, he tried to reach for Rachel’s wand, to force her to stop, but she just pulled her hand away. “You’ve got a point,” she said. “When we’re in private, there’s really nothing at all you can do to stop me, is there?” “Wh–” Daniel began. “That’s not what I was saying!” “Nobody would believe you in a ‘He said, she said’,” Rachel continued. “And this is just an excuse. What can you do to stop me?” “I’ll–” Daniel’s objection was halted immediately by a sudden jostle. Rachel flicked her wand up, and Daniel bobbed up to match, bouncing in mid-air and falling back into his diaper with a painful splgihdlch. He gasped, and Rachel laughed, continuing to bob him up and down, rocking Daniel as though he were trapped in an invisible baby bouncer. “You’ll what?” she asked. “Blow raspberries at me? Go tell the dean that I was being a big ol’ bully? They hate you, spark. As long as I don’t do a whole song and dance in front of them, they’ll turn a blind eye.” Whimpering, Daniel kicked his legs wider, though all he accomplished was banging the side of his foot against the bed while he bounced up and down in an uncomfortable, degrading rhythm. Every rise gave him a moment of relief, but every fall landed him down in the diaper wedgie again, sending new shocks of pain up from his groin and reminding him more than ever of the mushy mess he’d made mere minutes before. “Let’s talk this through,” Rachel said. “You could go admit the truth to the dean, tell them you broke into the library, and then you could resign and go home. You’d get your potty training back sooner or later, and you’d get to go on with your life. People might even forget about this, eventually…though I doubt it at this point.” “Bitch,” Daniel managed to grunt, though his voice cracked and he bounced halfway through the word, so it sounded more like a pathetic squeak than an insult. “Or, you can keep on insulting this school, and all the witches who go here,” Rachel continued, wrist keeping a rhythm up and down, bobbing to a beat as she maintained the levitation spell. “And, since you’ve so excellently demonstrated that you are utterly helpless to stop me, I’ll continue making your life a living hell. Which will it be?” “Mghg–” Daniel mewled. “What’s that?” Rachel asked, finally ceasing the constant bouncing. “Ow…” Daniel repeated, before summoning his courage. “You can’t break me.” “I’ll think of something,” Rachel replied, twirling her wand in a circle. Daniel spun in the air once more, and though it was a relief to have the weight removed from the focal point between his legs, he didn’t feel any relief. “For now…I think a classic ‘cartoon bully’ move is the swirlie, but you don’t have a toilet in here, so this will have to do.” Rachel extended her arm, and Daniel moved with her gesture, floating towards… “No, no, no!” he began to plead, as Rachel lifted him over his own diaper pail. “Last chance,” Rachel offered, stepping forward to place her foot on the pedal, so that the lid lifted up. The stale smell of baby powder overpowered by ammonia hit Daniel immediately. “Ready to drop out yet?” “Let me g–” Rachel released the magic and Daniel fell face-first into the pail. Cold plastic squished against him, though his body weight immediately sent both himself and the pail into a sidelong tumble. He gagged and pulled away, spitting and wiping at his face with his hands. Scrambling up to a seated position, Daniel took shallow breaths, disgust and embarrassment rising as he surveyed the mess Rachel had made of his room, scattering old diapers across the floor in a testament to his many, many accidents over the past few weeks. “I’ll leave you with a parting thought,” Rachel said, her hand lingering by his door. “You’re supposed to be a big, tough warlock, right? Because if you can’t even do the littlest thing to stop me…how the hell are you going to convince anyone else to take you seriously?” “You’re going to regret this,” Daniel glowered. “I doubt it.” Throwing open the door, Rachel sauntered out. “Oh, and by the way–I like the new portrait. Tell Jen I think she did a great job.” ... Support is always appreciated, especially given the financial instability going on right now, and my subs get early access to all my kinky writing! https://subscribestar.adult/peculiarchangeling https://reamstories.com/peculiarchangelingabdl

Chapter 13: Brunch Melody woke early, an unusual energy washing over her as she rolled out of bed. Before anything else, she checked her phone and sent a text to Skip. “Are you up?” She wanted to finish the scene. To keep things going, to resume the play. Anticipating. Excited. Skip’s response came quickly. “Yeah.” “When you’re ready, come to my room.” Melody didn’t need to get dressed. She’d gone to sleep in her underwear and a loose tee, but Skip didn’t care what she wore, it didn’t matter if she had on anything sexy. Her bedroom door opened only a couple seconds later, and Skip stood in the doorway, one hand squeezing their other forearm. Baggy sweats and a hoodie concealed their diaper, but it wasn’t as though Skip could go without peeing for nine hours, and their posture gave away anything that Melody couldn’t have guessed. Melody smiled. “Did you learn your lesson?” “Don’t untie myself without permission,” Skip replied, their gaze cast down at the floor. “Don’t disobey,” Melody clarified. “When you submit, you’re not the one in charge–and if you start thinking you’re allowed to ignore my decisions, this is what you’ll get.” Skip glanced back at the hallway, then shut the door. “Can I go clean up now?” Melody shook her head. “Proof first. I need to see your diaper, to make sure you didn’t cheat.” Skip shifted their weight from foot to foot for a moment, a warm blush rising on their earthy cheeks, then they hooked a thumb under the waistband of their sweatpants and lowered it just enough to show the rustling waistband of the diaper. That could have been enough, but their reaction drove something in Melody, and she walked across the room to stand right in front of them. “Hold on,” she said, placing her hands on Skip’s pants and sliding them down so that the diaper was fully exposed, sagging with obvious water weight. “How does it feel?” “Kinda awful,” Skip said. “The part around my thighs chafes, and it’s incredibly irritating. I hate it.” “So it’s an effective deterrent against misbehaving?” Melody asked. “And if I use it as a threat again, I won’t have to worry about you slipping up a second time?” Skip looked away, fuming for a moment. “...yes.” “What was that? A little louder,” Melody taunted. “Yes, it’s an effective punishment,” Skip insisted. Melody extended her hand down and touched the tapes, ensuring they were all stuck down and secure, even the replacement duct tape patch. “You didn’t try and cheat, did you?” Skip flushed further. “No, what would be the point?” “Good.” Melody took Skip’s hand in her own and pulled her towards the bed. “Come here.” “I want to go clean up.” Skip resisted her pull and used their other hand to pull their sweats back into place. Melody paused for a moment. Skip had completed the terms of their punishment, they could go clean up if they wanted. “Yellow,” she said. “I want to improvise a little here. Can you trust me for a couple minutes?” Skip looked back at the door, then at Melody once more. “Okay. Just a couple minutes.” “Green, then.” Melody pulled once more, and Skip followed to the bed. “Lay down, with your chest on the bed.” Skip obeyed, spreading out slightly. Face down, the arch of their back made the bulge around their hips more pronounced, but Melody’s aim was higher up. She leaned over and pressed her hands into Skip’s shoulders, squeezing with gentle, firm pressure. At the touch, Skip exhaled sharply, tensing and then relaxing. “You did good for me,” Melody praised, massaging their shoulders. “And I thought you deserved a reward for that obedience.” The tension in their back was unbelievable, muscles bound up in knots tighter than anything Melody could do with rope, but she rubbed in small circles, working the tension free. Skip took deep breaths, hands clenching and relaxing, but they didn’t object or ask for her to stop. Melody worked her fingers down, pressing into the fabric of the hoodie and following a line down Skip’s spine. “Your muscles are tight,” she commented. “Probably from standing too much at work.” Shaking their head facedown, Skip moved the pillow below them with their face, though any response they tried to give was muffled into a mumble. Melody didn’t have a plan, but this felt right. Skip deserved a reward for facing their first punishment, and a future promise of dinner was too distant. She didn’t have chocolates, but she knew how to make a body feel good. She kept the massage short, sticking to her promise of only a couple minutes, then rested her palms against Skip’s back. For a moment, she searched for words of praise–’Good girl’ and ‘Good boy’ didn’t work, she needed something gender neutral. “There’s my good little doll. When you let me play with you, it’s nicer than fighting, isn’t it?” Instead of replying, Skip rolled onto their back and looked up at Melody. They looked tired. For anyone else, Melody would assume they hadn’t slept the night before, but in this case, she didn’t need to assume–Skip was a night owl, they always stayed up through the night and slept while the sun was up. “Are you feeling okay?” Melody asked, sitting down next to Skip. “We’re moving into aftercare–how can I care for you?” Skip looked away, out the window, then seemed to make up their mind about something. “I cheated.” Melody paused. Of all the responses she could have imagined, that wasn’t one of them. “What do you mean?” “I…I tried to, at least. I tried to take the diaper off,” Skip admitted. “I couldn’t without breaking the tapes, but if I could have, I would have. I cheated.” That surprised Melody, if for no other reason than that Skip had no reason to confess. They’d failed to take the diaper off and Melody couldn’t possibly have found out about the attempt, so what was the point? Squeezing Skip’s hand, Melody said, “Don’t worry about it.” “But,” Skip started. “It was just luck. It’s not like the rope knots we use actually tie someone up–the fact that I couldn’t get out was coincidence, not part of the scene.” “It’s possible to get out, and it would have been possible to take your…thing off,” Melody corrected. “The toys are there to help reinforce behavior. It’s an aid, it doesn’t enforce anything. You did fine.” Skip didn’t seem to believe her, but they sat up and shook it off. “Okay. If you say we’re good, then we’re good.” “We’re good,” Melody promised them. “Go get cleaned up, then we’ll go get breakfast.” “Breakfast?” “You didn’t quite earn dinner, but I’m hungry, and I think you did enough to deserve a treat,” Melody said. “I’m thinking waffles.” “Right. Waffles.” Skip stood frozen for a moment, uncertain, then turned and waddled away. Melody got ready for her day while they showered, picking out a brunch-appropriate outfit and checking her messages. Once Skip was out of the bathroom, she took over and took a shower of her own, applied makeup, and generally freshened up to be out in public. Skip was still doing something in their room when Melody finished up, so she shot over a quick text saying that she was ready whenever, then sat down to make a few notes about how the scene had gone. A few minutes later, Melody’s phone buzzed with a text from Skip. ‘Where are we going?’ ‘There’s a new place down on Main street, I thought it’d be fun to try. It’s called the Green Tomato’ ‘Cool. I’m ready whenever.’ Melody grabbed her purse and keys, met Skip in the hall, and together they left in her car. “Hey,” Melody said, as they drove. “I wanted to say thanks for all this.” Skip looked up from their phone and tilted their head. “It’s a shared project, isn’t it?” “Yeah, but it was my baby to begin with, and you’re really going the extra mile to make sure it’s as good as we can get it. I appreciate that,” Melody explained. “I think the book’s going to turn out really good, and you share a bunch of the responsibility for that.” “Oh, yeah. Sure,” Skip replied. “It’s good to have a project outside of work.” “Just…don’t think of the breakfast as purely a reward. It’s also a ‘thank you’,” Melody explained. “Thank you, too.” Melody fell silent until they got to the restaurant, which had all the charm that a quick paint job and a ton of antique store art could bring to the place: random knick knacks on the shelves, quirky paintings and photos printed big on the wall, and enough decoration to make you forget that the building it was in used to be a Taco Bell. It was the style where you ordered and then found a table, but the line was short and there was plenty of space to sit. When they walked inside, Melody froze, then turned away and raised a hand to shield her face. “Dammit.” “Problem?” Skip asked. “The chick behind the register,” Melody muttered, nodding towards the front of the restaurant. “She’s my ex.” “Here, I’ll order, you just get us a table,” Skip suggested. “Waffles?” “Blueberry waffles and a coffee,” Melody confirmed, scanning the room for an open seat. Her explanation to Skip had been true, though not complete–the girl behind the counter wasn’t just an ex, she’d been a particularly messy breakup. Then again, maybe ‘Breakup’ wasn’t the right word. Patricia had gone with Melody out for dinner, they’d fucked, and it’d been enough fun that Melody even took her out for a second date. That was it, though, and after Melody had gone radio silent, she thought that things were done. …until she was out with Brendan a week later, and they’d bumped into Patricia at a cafe. (Was he Brendan? Brandon? It was definitely a B name. Braxton–no, definitely not that.) Melody found a table where she could face away from the counter and kept her head down. She didn’t expect anything to happen, but all the same, she didn’t want another screamfest to ruin the morning. The table was exactly the same as a thousand other diners, with a little napkin dispenser and a holder full of sugar packets for coffee, as well as a paper display showing off the weekend specials and offers. Skip pulled up a seat a minute later. “Blueberry waffles, coffee, plus you get an egg on the side. I said scrambled.” “I like scrambled,” Melody confirmed. “And–” A solid thunk stole her attention as a coffee cup hit the table, placed with enough force that the hot liquid sloshed over the side. She looked up to see Patricia over her, glaring down sharply over her nose. Glancing over to the register, she saw someone else had taken over, giving her ex an opportunity for this confrontation. Looking between her and the drink, Melody said, “You spilled my coffee.” Patricia didn’t address Melody at all. Instead, she faced Skip. “Don’t trust this bitch. You might think you’re special–you’re not, you’re just another notch on the bedpost for her.” Skip stared at her. “Do I know you?” “No, but it’s just a word from the wise,” Patricia replied. “You do not want to spend time with this girl. You should walk away right now.” “Just–” Melody began. “Oh, wait, I do know you,” Skip cut in. “You’re that girl who decided to stick her ass in someone else’s business and get mad because her assumptions didn’t come true.” Patricia blinked. “Excuse me?” “Wait, sorry,” Skip said. “None of that’s special. The only thing that makes you unique is that you think anyone cares about the shit coming out of your mouth.” “If you like being cheated on,” Patricia began, “then–” “Cheated on? Oh, honey, that implies someone actually liked you enough to call you their girlfriend.” Skip showed teeth, though whether it was a grin or a snarl, Melody couldn’t be sure. “You were a notch in the bedpost, and it’s nobody’s fault but your own that you thought you were anything different.” Patricia’s voice rose, though she kept it below a yell. “Fuck you.” “Get in line,” Skip shot back. “Melody has dibs.” Bright red and furious, Patricia jabbed a finger at Melody. “She–” Skip upturned the coffee cop, splashing hot, dark java all over the table. It spilled out towards Patricia and splattered her apron, with the excess dribbling down onto the floor where it pattered like rain. “Come on, Melody,” Skip said, pushing to their feet. “Let’s go back to your place already, we can just order in.” Melody only realized in that moment that she’d been silent and slack-jawed for the whole exchange, staring between her ex and her friend. She rose as well, satisfaction building as a result of Patricia’s spluttering shock. She was vaguely aware that the rest of the restaurant had begun to stare, but Skip’s fiery attack on Patricia made it difficult to care. As one final insult, Skip nabbed every packet of sugar and sweetener in the holder on their table and tossed them onto the floor, adding to the mess they’d already made. Patricia looked ready to scream, but they turned their back and walked away, pausing by the counter where they took a twenty dollar bill from their wallet and dropped it in the tip jar. To the other cashier, Skip said, “Sorry about that. This is since you have to clean up her mess.” ... Oh, right - Skip can be pretty incisive, I'd almost forgotten! Support for the author - (me) - is appreciated! https://reamstories.com/peculiarchangelingabdl https://subscribestar.adult/peculiarchangeling

Chapter 12: A Late Night Conversation Skip lay in bed, aware of two things. First: They were a monumental idiot and a general fuckup. Second: They had to pee. They’d tried to shimmy out of the diaper, but the tapes were already flimsy enough, as demonstrated by the one that’d already ripped when Melody trapped them in it. It would come off easily enough, but there would be no putting it back on–not without considerably more duct tape, at least. That left them with no choice but to wait, and every second that passed only swelled the ache in their bladder, and that physical discomfort only served as a reminder of their mental discomfort. If Skip gave in, or if they lost control, there’d be no hiding it, no pretending. If they fought the growing pressure, they’d be stuck with the throbbing, pulsing pain of an overfull bladder. At the same time, hunger gnawed at their stomach, and their throat burned. They hadn’t had anything to drink in the past five hours, not wanting to add to the pressure, and if they had food, they knew their thirst would only get worse. That, at least, they could do something about. The ache was already terrible–so it couldn’t get any worse. They disguised their body with baggy sweats and an oversized hoodie that, together, would completely conceal the bulk of the diaper, then took their phone and left their room, tip-toeing into the dark hallway. Skip didn’t turn on the lights. They didn’t need to, and they didn’t want to wake anyone up. Sweatpants or no, they didn’t want to talk to anyone just then. Moving silently through the dark, they crept down the stairs and shuffled across the floor, cautiously avoiding creaky boards. Only a little light filtered in through the windows, thin rays of moonlight slipping through the blinds and curtain in the living room, and glowing LEDs pulsed gently on the TV and stereo system, pinprick indicator lights that did nothing to illuminate the room. Once they reached the kitchen, Skip relaxed a little. Nobody was up. They cracked the freezer door, peering inside for something to eat. A frozen microwave Peckish Person brand dinner would be fine. Selecting a veggie pot pie, they carried it to the microwave and set the timer, waiting impatiently, shifting from foot to foot as the pressure in their bladder reasserted itself with new force. “Fuck, fuck,” they whispered under their breath. The clock on the stove read two AM–they had to put up with this for several more hours if they wanted to last until Melody woke up. A floorboard creaked and they froze. They weren’t the only one up. Someone else was walking towards the kitchen. Their heart began to hammer in their chest. Skip knew they weren’t doing anything wrong, but they couldn’t stop the panic response, frozen as they waited and hoped the anonymous Waster would turn and go back to their room. Instead, Pearce swaggered into the kitchen, rubbing at his eyes. “Hey, baby girl,” he said. “What are you doing out of b–oh, fuck, uh–” His expression turned from bleary to alarmed as he recognized Skip. “Shit, sorry. I thought you were Grace.” Skip’s eyes widened, but the faux pas broke some of their tension. Facing his silhouette, they asked, “Why would you think I was Grace?” “I heard…” Pearce trailed off, and though it was too dark to see his expression, Skip could read his body language clearly: Awkward discomfort. “Uh, crinkling.” (Dammit.) “Candy,” they said immediately. “I…had a candy bar.” A stupid lie. A very stupid lie. Pearce didn’t even treat it as a deception–he laughed, assuming Skip was joking. “Grace actually started taking candy bars with her whenever we’re in public, just so she can use that excuse.” (Have I ever been good at tricking people, or do my friends just patronize me?) They at least kept their mouth shut, clamping down before another lie could spill out, insisting on the truth of the candy bar story. “What are you doing up?” “I fell asleep on the couch,” Pearce admitted. “But only like, sort-of-asleep. I was about to drag myself up to bed when I heard you go by.” Skip shuffled in place, battling their bladder. “Okay.” Walking into the kitchen fully, Pearce flicked on the light and got a glass from the cupboard. When he turned on the sink, the hiss of rushing water sent Skip’s discomfort into overdrive, compelling them to press their thighs together as much as the diaper would allow. Pearce noticed–he had to have noticed–but he didn’t say anything about Skip’s obvious distress. “Have you spent much time with Connor?” “Brain’s boyfriend?” Skip asked, as though the question needed clarification–they knew who Connor was. Pearce just nodded. “Not really, except when he comes over for bonfires sometimes.” “Super cool guy,” Pearce said. “We ended up talking tonight after Grace went to bed, and, shit, if I wasn’t with Grace and Brains wasn’t with him, I’d want to date him.” “You’re straight, aren’t you?” Skip asked. “Well, yeah, but that’s not really the biggest hurdle there. He and Brains are super cute together, I wouldn’t want to split that up.” Pearce shrugged. “He offered to take me jousting next weekend.” Skip blinked. “Like…knights? Horses? That kind of jousting?” “I guess he’s big into medieval stuff.” Pearce reached for his pocket and produced his phone. “He owns a sword. A sword.” Smirking, Skip said, “Cool.” “No, you’re not getting it.” Swiping to get to his images, Pearce showed them a photo of Connor wearing some kind of padded jacket and holding a long, sharp blade. “He owns a sword, Skip. Like Conan.” “You’re high,” Skip guessed. They were admittedly intrigued, but now was not the time to make a big deal out of that curiosity. “And easily impressed.” “Yeah, maybe.” Pearce set his phone down and shrugged. “Still. Swords are cool.” Skip leaned against the counter. Pearce finished his water. “Night,” he said. “Night,” Skip replied. He started to walk away. “Wait,” Skip interrupted, before he could leave the kitchen. “I–can I ask you a question?” Pearce looked back at her and nodded. “Just piss. It’s not as gross as you’re worried about.” Skip hoped that their burning cheeks wouldn’t be too visibly red. “That’s not what I was going to ask.” He shrugged. “Okay, then that’s a freebie, what’s the question?” Now they had to think up another question. “What about this is horny to you? I at least sort of get the ‘being tied up thing’, at least on a cognitive level, but introducing more bodily fluids doesn’t seem to get anyone anywhere.” Leaning against the wall, Pearce scratched his stubbly chin. “That might be a better question for Grace, to be honest.” “Well, she’s asleep.” Skip shook their head. “And I don’t want her opinion, I’m asking you.” “Well, for me, it’s Grace’s thing more than anything,” Pearce admitted, staring at the ceiling while he thought about it. “She’s–fuck, she gets so cute when she’s blushy.” “So it’s the humiliation,” Skip surmised. “You like it when she’s embarrassed.” “Not really. I mean, yeah, but that’s not…” Pearce rambled. “Man, why do you have to give me the hard questions when I’m this stoned?” “If you don’t have an answer, that’s cool.” “No, I just…words. I mean, there’s a confidence boost, right? She trusts me enough to let me take care of her, and that’s not something she does with anyone else, so that’s part of it. But it’s also like…there’s no pretending. When she’s all in baby mode, it kinda strips away a lot of Real Life stuff. Am I making any sense?” Skip understood his point, but his point was crap. BDSM involved more playacting and pretend than real life, and the baby girl/daddy dom thing that Pearce and Grace had going on was no exception. Pretending that she wasn’t potty trained, pretending that she needed a bottle to drink, pretending that it wasn’t gross. They didn’t call him out on it. “Yeah, that all tracks.” “I don’t know. It’s just…I like caring for her. She likes being cared for. Sometimes it’s not a thing you can logic out, it just is. It’s like riding a bike, you have to do it on instinct.” Pearce shook his head and pushed away from the wall. “I hope that helps.” “Sure. You should get some sleep, you look like you’re having trouble staying upright.” Pearce chuckled. “Night, Skip.” “Night.” He wandered away, just as the microwave beeped, indicating that their dinner was done. Skip shut their eyes and exhaled. Pearce’s answers hadn’t been all that helpful, but he’d been right about one thing. They weren’t going to be able to hold it until morning, and they would be better off just letting go. They closed their eyes and exhaled slowly and released the hold on their aching bladder. Warmth rose in their cheeks in tandem with warmth that spread between their thighs, rushing out of them and into the waiting diaper in a tide they could no longer stop. The relief washed over them and they– Creak. Pearce walked back towards them and Skip froze, paralyzed once again, unable to dam the rushing flow that hissed into their diaper. “Forgot my phone,” Pearce said, gesturing to the counter as he walked back into the kitchen. “Okay, for real, night.” “N-night,” Skip replied, voice cracking as they tried to sound normal. He glanced at them and didn’t try to hide the curl of his lips as he recognized what was going on inside their diaper, though he didn’t tease or make fun. It was humiliating enough that he knew, without him adding any fuel to the fire burning on Skip’s face. He left again, but the trickle continued for another twenty seconds. Waterlogged weight swelled up beneath their sweatpants and their diaper sagged with the heavy load. Skip thought they might explode. They’d just– They– Were fine. They felt okay. Their body tingled slightly with the cathartic release of pressure on their bladder, and maybe that was it, but the expected shame and self loathing didn’t come. (It’ll be back, once Melody is awake,) they knew. For the moment, though, it wasn’t an issue. The wet diaper was warm, and it squelched when they turned to face the microwave, but it wasn’t full of acid or anything. It was really just water and a bit of carbon, ammonia, and other trace elements. It wasn’t any different than being sweaty. They took their dinner from the microwave and got a glass of water. Now that their bladder no longer ached, the other physical discomforts–hunger and thirst–burned more strongly, but those were handled quickly. A glass of water, a Peckish Person pot pie, and they felt almost human. Stable. No longer trembling, no longer ready to melt down. Ready to prepare for the morning, for the inevitable judgement from Melody. That was still coming, but Skip had made it to the eye of the storm, and they had a moment of relief. Once they’d eaten, they returned to their room. Walking around the house did produce a slight waddle, unless they wanted to press their thighs together and make the diaper squish more than it already did, but nobody was awake to see them toddling around, so that was okay. They were okay. For now. ... Twelve chapters in and we have our first wet diaper. Thanks to Personalias, I don't think that's an ABDL fiction record or anything, but it just might be a personal best. Support the author: https://subscribestar.adult/peculiarchangeling https://reamstories.com/peculiarchangelingabdl

Shit. That's a great idea. *Quickly jots it down.* Of course the faculty forms a coven!