PeculiarChangeling

Coming in here with the dogwhistles, I see?

Chapter 33 (Are we ready, girls?) (And Daniel.) (Thanks, Cassie.) (Are we ready, girls and Daniel?) The coven stood in a close circle, hands held tight as they prepared the magic. On his own, Daniel would have needed half an hour or more to cast this, but together, sharing the load, they needed only a few moments of focus and a shared sense of intent. Working as the familiar, supplying the power and conveying the thoughts of the others, Daniel channeled the magic. His eyes were closed, but he felt Mathilde’s grin when she thought, (Hit it.) A pulse of energy passed through them, and in an eyeblink, they were halfway across the world. Paris. The city of light. The city of love. The city with that one big pointy tower. The landing hall in Paris was hidden in a side passage in their metro system, a landing platform that would look to any passersby like a simple defunct stop that’d never been finished. It took a minute to navigate through the winding hallways towards an interchange, and then to an elevator that took them from the underground to the street, into a place almost as magical as Alphabeta. For the rest of the night, they were no longer students, they were just kids, there to have fun. Asami had traded in her uniform for a similar cut without any of the school’s colors, but Radha had gone full party girl with a baggy top that looked like it was stitched from an assortment of the world’s most disparate scraps of fabric and puffy, almost absurd jeans. Mathilde had dressed in a knee-length spaghetti strap dress and Hazel had put on a slightly boyish jean/t-shirt combo, but it was Cassie who’d really shown them all up. She’d conjured a heavily pink-themed ensemble accented with a scarf and tall boots that came up to her knees to meet her skirt. Daniel was glad she’d been the one to help him with his clothes. She had an eye for fashion. “The drinking age here is eighteen, right?” Radha asked, looking around as they stepped out of their spell and into the metro platform. “Sixteen,” Mathilde replied, “But we’re not getting drunk.” “I’m not saying I want to get drunk,” Radha clarified. “But I’ve never had champagne. I want to sip champagne from a rooftop bar and talk about poetry.” “What time is it?” Asami asked. Daniel checked his watch, recalibrating in his head and pressing the chunky plastic buttons to adjust the time zone. “We’re three hours earlier than at school, so…four thirty-five.” “Then the Louvre is still open, right?” she said, smiling nervously. “We’re here to party and you want to go to an art museum?” Hazel asked, almost causing the older girl to shrink away before she grinned. “Awesome, let’s do it.” And so, their evening began. Mathilde acted as tour guide, translating where needed and helping with metro navigation, but for the most part, they just behaved like any group of foreign tourists parading through one of the most beautiful locations in the world. After stopping to share a round of champagne, they got into the Louvre, and spent an hour ‘ooing’ and ‘ahhing’ at the famous works. They could only see the Mona Lisa from about a hundred feet away, blocked by other tourists, and from it looked like a postage stamp, but Asami seemed pleased to have gotten a look at it despite how little detail could be made out. It was Radha who picked their next destination, excitedly steering them towards a cafe. Mathilde ordered so that they wouldn’t look ‘ridiculous’, and they feasted on fancy wine and even fancier sandwiches. The wine had subtle notes of grapes and alcohol–Daniel wasn’t much for wine tasting–but the sandwiches were pure perfection, cheesy and warm with crispy, toasted bread. As for ‘talking about poetry’, Daniel could offer little except Shel Silverstein and a few limmericks, but the group did their best. Hazel got the next turn to choose, and she directed them down into the catacombs, taking a short tour through hallways of bones and spooky passageways. Cassie was mildly disappointed to learn that there were no ghosts haunting the tunnels beneath the city, and only one Bluecap who had long since been warned to stop leading tourists down the wrong path, lest they be evicted by Fae Control. By the time they emerged back onto street level, the sun had almost set, and it was Cassie’s pick. Her choice got a groan from Mathilde, who complained that they were just leaning into stereotypes, but after some gentle back and forth, she conceded and led the way. Daniel was happy with the outcome. They couldn’t visit Paris and not go up the tower, after all. Six tickets and an elevator ride later, they were on the upper platform, near the peak, with a perfect view of the most beautiful city in the world. There was still one staircase left between them and the pinnacle, but even there, it was hard to deny that the trip had been worth it. Even Mathilde seemed to have shed her annoyance at being ‘a tourist’. “To get to the top,” Daniel said, “Mathilde…is there another elevator? I just see stairs for the last bit.” “No, but I don’t need to go all the way up,” she replied. “It’s fine.” “You’re sure?” Daniel looked around. “What if we just…got you up there our way? That thing can levitate, right?” “Making my chair look like it’s electric is an easy illusion, hiding it completely’s harder,” Mathilde said. “I promise, it’s fine, I’ve been up there before and I don’t need to see it again.” Daniel felt skeptical, and looked around at the group. He was certain that the six of them working together could pull off a convincing illusion, or at least a bit of invisibility, so that they could get Mathilde up the final set of stairs. If she said it was fine, though, he wouldn’t push. Or, he wouldn’t push much. “You’re sure? Because if you are just worried about looking like a tourist, I get it, but we’re here together. We can do some wicked cool magic as a group.” Mathilde raised a hand and squinted into the sunset for a moment before she said, “Oh, fine.” “Girls?” Daniel asked, spreading out his hands and getting their attention. After a brief explanation of what they needed to do, the six of them joined hands, and the coven met for a bit of subterfuge. At Mathilde’s instruction, they cast a simple illusion, so that her chair would vanish to any onlookers. She’d still be using it to get around, hovering a couple inches off the stairs, but nobody would be the wiser. They ascended together, all six of them, up to the smaller, more intimate viewing platform at the peak of the spire. “I know, I know,” Radha said, before she could even buy the champagne from the miniature bar. “Touristy.” Mathilde just rolled her eyes and smiled. “Knock yourself out, I’m not judging.” Hazel snorted. “You totally are.” “I’m judging a little,” Mathilde admitted, “But I get it. Have fun.” “Can you see your house from here?” Cassie asked, peering around with a smirk. “My parents live about an hour out of the city,” Mathilde explained, “But we would come here most weekends.” “It’s gorgeous,” Cassie said. “Where I grew up, we mostly had views of freeways and gas stations. How does it compare to New York?” “You haven’t been?” Daniel asked. She shrugged. “I’ve been through their airport a couple times, but not really.” “It’s…different..” Daniel tried to think how to explain the contrast. “It’s home, too, so it’s hard to really be objective. This all, though…it’s like classical music, artsy and gorgeous. New York is Beastie Boys. It’s rock. You know?” “That makes sense.” Cassie leaned out on the rail and watched as the sun dipped below the horizon, shrouding the sky in shades of blue and indigo. “I want to go there, someday.” “You’re a witch,” Daniel pointed out. “It’s not that big a deal to travel.” “I know, just…I want it to be special.” Cassie paused, and Daniel got the impression she was holding her breath, as though she were about to jump off a high dive. Instead, the moment passed, and instead of doing anything dramatic she just touched his arm. “Like this.” “A celebratory girl’s night,” Daniel said. “It does make it a little more special.” “It’s my first one,” Cassie said. “My first ‘girl’s night’.” He smirked. “Mine too, now that I think about it.” She laughed, leaning on him a little harder for support, and stayed like that as the laughter passed. Daniel had grown more used to the way that women were more touchy feely than he was used to, communicating with hands and embraces in a way that ran counter to his masculine instincts, and so he didn’t reject the touch or read into it. They stood there together, watching as Paris slipped from day to night. Eventually, they walked away, taking the stairs down to the main viewing platform and the elevator from there. It was dark, and they were tipsy, but they had hours yet to go before they had to return home. “Your turn,” Asami said, once they were on the ground. “What do you want to do, Daniel?” “My turn?” he asked. “Everyone except you and Mathilde got to pick out an activity, it’s only fair you do too. And Mathilde, if you have any suggestions for things that aren’t ‘touristy’.” Asami put airquotes around the word. “I don’t know,” Daniel admitted. “We kind of hit all the staples. There’s the arch?” “The Arc de Triomphe,” Mathilde corrected. “Yeah, the arch of triumph,” Daniel agreed, winking. “That’s what it translates to, right?” “...more or less,” Mathilde conceded. “If that’s your pick, we’ll do it,” Asami declared. It wasn’t something Daniel felt strongly about, but since he had no other ideas, he went with it, following as the group made their way to the nearest subway station. That sense of direction lasted until they passed by a building of glass and color and light that drew his attention down a completely different path. He stopped, trailing behind the rest of the group, looking in through windows that had been plastered with signs and posters. “Hold up,” he said, leaning in to search for a particular object inside. The girls stopped, and Hazel stepped back so she could look at the sign over the entrance. “An arcade?” “They have it!” Daniel announced excitedly. “I’m changing my pick, we’re going here instead.” “They have arcades all over the world,” Hazel pointed out. “Sure, but I never have five other people with me,” Daniel insisted, walking towards the door. “It’s his pick,” Asami said with a shrug, and they followed him in. Sitting against a back wall with two large, glowing screens and six sets of controls was the X-Men arcade cabinet. Daniel had always watched from afar, imagining the possibilities of a game with six players, wondering what it could even be like. Now was his chance. The first game lasted about three minutes, most of which he spent explaining the controls and watching everyone else lose health. Game two devolved into pure chaos after only a little longer, with far too much happening on screen to properly keep track of, but all the same, he was grinning from ear to ear by the time they were done. “Wow, we suck at this,” Radha commented. “Sorry about that.” “Not the point,” Daniel replied, flush with exhilaration. “That was great.” “That was great?” Hazel asked. Daniel rested his hands on the controls. He felt warm in a good way, flush with victory. Some of that was the champagne, he could tell he was tipsy, but it was more than that, it was the company. “I’ve been wanting to do this for seven years. I thought they’d get rid of all the cabinets before I got a chance.” “It’s like when you’re the familiar,” Cassie noted. “You think of it like a game.” “It is like a game.” He shrugged and looked back at the screen, displaying a bright, joyful GAME OVER. “But–Mathilde, it’s your turn.” “I’ve been here,” she pointed out. “I don’t have anything on a bucket list to cross out.” “We all picked something,” Daniel insisted, shaking his head. “You gotta.” “I agree, it’s only fair,” Asami added. Mathilde looked like she wanted to argue, but she relented after only a second. “Alright. There’s a bakery near the river, they’re open late and you can get the morning’s pastries for a song.” “I knew you’d know a good spot,” Daniel said, gesturing to the entrance of the arcade. “Lead the way, o’ wise navigator.” Mathilde rolled towards the door, and the gaggle of girls–plus Daniel–followed behind. It wasn’t far. They didn’t even need to get on the subway, just walk a few blocks down old, cobbled streets. “Oh,” Cassie said, catching Daniel’s arm and stopping them. “Um–” He glanced back at her. “What’s up?” She looked down, then up at him. “Uh…your overalls are wet.” He looked down, noting the crescent-moon dark stains around his thighs, with trickles running down past that. He’d leaked. Glowing red, he said, “I didn’t…I don’t have a change.” Now that she’d pointed it out, he felt acutely aware of the extra weight hanging around his hips, the oversaturated padding full of an afternoon’s champagne. “I don’t know if I can dry it out with a spell,” Cassie said, thinking for a moment before standing up straight and pulling her arms in through her jacket sleeves. Shucking out of the outer garment, she passed him the jacket. “Here, just tie this around your waist.” A part of him thought that might stand out more, but the rest of the coven would notice the leak sooner or later, and strangers wouldn’t know it wasn’t his jacket. He accepted it and tied it in place, adding a bright splash of pink to his ensemble. “Thanks,” he said, cheeks still warm from embarrassment and alcohol. “Don’t mention it,” she replied, “I’m just watching out for you.” Together, they caught up with the rest of the coven, who all stoically refused to comment on the new fashion choice Daniel had made. The bakery was warm and inviting, smelling of chocolate and yeast and the kind of magic that didn’t come from wands or schools. Mathilde ordered for everyone, walking away with a paper sack full of far too many pastries for what seemed like not much money at all, then she gestured for them to go across the street, where a bench faced out over the river. “When I came here with my dad, we’d always get something and watch the river before we went home,” Mathilde explained, as they circled around the bench. There wasn’t enough room for everyone to sit, but Asami, Radha, and Hazel spread out, while Mathilde sat next to them in her chair. That left Cassie and Daniel to step up to the fence overlooking the river, leaning against it while they watched lights sparkle in the water. “It’s beautiful,” Cassie said. “I think Mathilde wins the night,” Daniel added, through a mouthful of pain au chocolat. “Best pick. Holy shit this is good.” “It’s even better fresh,” Mathilde said, with a demure smile. “But there’s a reason it’s my favorite.” While they overlooked the water, Cassie touched Daniel’s arm again, leaning towards him, hanging on his arm like a handrail. From her touch, he felt her holding her breath again. (Hold on…) Once was a data point. Twice was a pattern. He looked at her, and saw that she wasn’t staring out at the river, she was staring up at him. Flushing, he wiped pastry crumbs away from his face with his free arm, uncertain what would come next. “Danny,” she said, cheeks pink in the dusky light of evening. Her voice grew quiet, almost a whisper. “I like you.” He felt how she tensed up when she said it, afraid what he might say back. He ran through a thousand different responses, but he couldn’t think of what words might be best. Instead, his jaw just fell open and he stared at her in a surprised stupor, an abject idiot in the face of affection. It was impossible not to be aware of their audience as well, especially when Radha yelled, “Just fuckin’ kiss her already!” (Well…I can’t beat that.) His words couldn’t help, so he took his friend’s advice and leaned in. Cassie rushed to meet him, her arms wrapping fully around his body, and they kissed one another with youthful, tipsy passion. He didn’t even think about Jen until they’d pulled apart, and then a spike of anxiety drove itself up through the roof of his mouth and stole the joy from the situation. Cassie’s nervous smile numbed him, and he smiled back, while internally he just thought, (Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit–) “I…” Cassie began. “I’m not sure what to say.” He needed to delay, to buy time for his thoughts to catch up. “It’s late, we’re drunk. We can decide what to say in the morning. For now…I like you too.” The moment was slightly undercut when Radha began to applaud, and Hazel cut in with a wolf whistle, but Daniel was glad for the tension breaker since it gave him an excuse to pull away and roll his eyes. “And, we can talk without the Mystery Science Theater giving their feedback,” he added, shaking his head in over-the-top curmudgeonly annoyance. Cassie laughed, the coven laughed, he smiled. (I fucked up, I fucked up, I fucked up, what the fuck am I going to say to Jen? Fuck, fuck–) “We should get back to the school soon,” Asami said. “It’s getting late, and it’ll be even later there, and we still have classes in the morning.” “Agreed,” Mathilde replied. Daniel’s thoughts were a nervous soup as they made their way to the nearest metro station and took a couple trains, riding their way back to the platform where they could apparate back to school. He managed to clear his mind enough that, when they connected to cast the spell, he didn’t broadcast his anxieties to the rest of the coven, and he claimed that as a small victory, though it distracted him enough that it took twice as long to teleport back to the school as it had to leave. And, he was so distracted, it took him several seconds to notice that upon their arrival, the Alphabeta entrance hall was utterly, totally dark. ... For once, Daniel's found himself in a messy situation that isn't the result of his diapers! Author support is always appreciated, and early access for this story is currently two chapters ahead! https://reamstories.com/peculiarchangelingabdl https://subscribestar.adult/peculiarchangeling

Chapter 32 “Holy shit,” Radha repeated half to herself as the coven stumbled in a pack out of the grand hall, giddy with triumph. “Holy shit, girls, we did it!” “I’m proud of us,” Mathilde added. “We worked hard and we accomplished what we set out to. Even if we don’t place very well, we should be incredibly happy with just getting into the running.” “Oh, screw that,” Daniel cut in. “We’re in it now, we’re going to kick ass.” “In the meantime,” Hazel cut in. “We are going out.” Daniel hesitated, his joy going just a touch sour. “Out?” “We need to celebrate, somewhere with a low enough drinking age that we can go nuts,” Hazel clarified. “I’m thinking Paris.” “Oooh, yes!” Radha agreed. “Paris!” “I’ll see if we can get permission to stay out past curfew,” Asami said, addressing the practical elements immediately. “I’m sure we can get some teacher or another to sign off on it.” “Out,” Daniel repeated. “Uh…” Cassie touched his hand and gave a squeeze. “Is that okay?” “Yeah, sure, I just…” Daniel rubbed at the back of his neck. “I don’t have anything to wear.” “No fashion sense?” Hazel asked. “No outfits. I didn’t pack anything, it was a whole uniform misunderstanding, and then my one set of clothes got transfigured, and…it’s all uniforms.” He blushed. “And like…wearing the uniform here is one thing, but I don’t want to wear girl clothes in Paris.” “They might just think it’s an early Halloween costume,” Hazel suggested, though she delivered the line with a deadpan tone that Daniel recognized as sarcasm. “We don’t celebrate Halloween like you Americans,” Mathilde interjected. “So, I don’t have any clothes, and I’m still not good enough at conjuration to make an outfit out of thin air,” Daniel concluded. “Oh,” Cassie said, her grin spreading. “Let me handle that.” Daniel wasn’t sure whether to take her expression at face value, or if he should be concerned, so he settled on a bit of both. “Uh…sure.” Asami cleared her throat. “I’ll go get a trip pass. Cassie, are you walking Daniel back to his room?” Once Cassie nodded, Asami continued, “Meet at the apparition hall in an hour?” A round of nods and giggles rose up like a chorus, and the coven separated, giddy with triumph and anticipation. “Come on,” Cassie said. “I’m pretty good at conjuration, I’ll make you a good outfit.” Daniel almost made a quip, hesitated, then mentally slapped himself for hesitating. “I’m trusting in your innate ‘Women’s Fashion Sense’ here, I’m clueless in that field.” Cassie looked back at him and smiled, then took his hand and pulled him down the hall towards the prefect’s dorms. All the excitement, the buzz of adrenaline and endorphins, came to a lurching halt as they turned down the final hall towards Daniel’s room. Coming the opposite way, smiling and predatory, he stared down Rachel. “I’m here,” Cassie whispered, moving defensively in front of Daniel as the prefect approached. “She won’t mess with you.” Daniel tensed, ready for anything. He wouldn’t put it past Rachel to do something in front of a witness if she was feeling aggressive enough. She noticed them, and her smile turned to a smirk. A few paces away, she said, “Hey, Spark.” “Rachel,” he replied cautiously. “Congratulations.” She paused and raised an eyebrow at him, flatly ignoring Cassie’s presence. After a long pause, she said, “You too.” Then, without any further bullying, harassment, or even a smidge of cruelty, she sauntered past, humming to herself. Daniel watched her go over his shoulder, baffled. Once she was out of earshot, he said, “What the hell was that?” “She’s in a good mood,” Cassie suggested. “Or she’s just looking forward to getting to beat you up on the hex.” Daniel didn’t have any better guesses than that, so he continued on his previous mission, getting back to his dorm and acquiring new clothes. Glancing down, he was reminded once again that he didn’t have access to the locker rooms, that he hadn’t managed to clean up in a while. “I need to change before you go all bippity-boppity on me, and I should probably just shower. Do you mind hanging out for a minute?” “Sure thing,” Cassie said. “And I’m not quite, ‘Conjure an outfit on you’ good, I’ll need to work on it for a few minutes. I can put the outfit together while you shower?” “Perfect.” Ducking into his room, Daniel put together a basket with his soap, shampoo, a clean uniform, and a fresh diaper. After a moment of uncertainty, he tucked the diaper under the clean uniform, as though Cassie didn’t already have acute knowledge of his underwear situation, then he pushed the door open and nodded. “I’ll be back in just a minute.” Cassie watched him walk down to the end of the hall, where he crossed into one of the available shower stalls. Even for prefects, they weren’t exactly luxurious, but they were a hybrid shower/tub so that baths were available–a perk not available to the student body at large, albeit not one Daniel particularly cared about. After locking the door, he undressed, stripping away layers of sweaty exercise clothes one at a time and stacking them on the counter by the sink. After stepping out of his skirt, he was left with just his drooping, rainbow-stained diaper, sagging from both regular use and mana that’d trickled down his skin and into the absorbent polymer. He looked at himself for a long moment in the mirror, self-confidence wavering in the way it did every time he had to confront exactly what situation he’d gotten himself into. Before the void of doubt could consume him, he shook off the melancholy and ripped the tapes away, wrapping the old diaper up in a trash bag before turning on the shower. Purifying hot water sluiced over his body, washing away sweat and discomfort, and after a long scrub and a bit of time to just bask in the heat, he got out, dried off, and dressed himself once again. He was putting it off. A night out in Paris sounded fun. Wonderful, even, but he still found himself delaying, buying seconds before he had to go get dressed up and have a nice night on the town. After suppressing the doubt, he gathered the old diaper, clothes, and toiletries in his basket, took a breath, and returned to his room. “Wait, wait!” Cassie yelped, moving to step in front of the doorway as he walked in. “It’s not ready yet!” Daniel’s eyebrows rose and he tried to step around to see what she was working on, but she turned and ushered him back into the hallway. Throwing out his arms, he said, “Come on, I want to see!” “One more minute, no peeking.” “Fiiine.” He drew out the word and rolled his eyes, then leaned against the far wall and waited for Cassie to finish muttering words of power and waving her wand over his bed. After thirty more seconds, ahead of schedule, she stepped back. “Okay, I think this looks great.” Daniel stepped in and inspected her work. A loose, long-sleeve shirt with a striped pattern over the chest, plus a pair of purple-indigo overalls with wide, baggy legs that looked like they’d come down almost to his heels. It looked great. “Okay, put it on!” Cassie said excitedly, stepping out to give him a bit of privacy. He stripped out of his clothes for the second time in ten minutes, once again down to the diaper. Now, for the first time in two months, he dressed in clothes meant for him. Not for a girl, not for a witch, but specifically for him. The shirt fit just right, a little loose in all the right places, and the overalls hung to just cover his shoes without snagging at his feet when he stepped around. He looked himself up and down, and was pleased to note that the overalls were loose enough to completely hide any diaper bulge; he could have had anything down there and it would’ve been hidden. Pushing the door open, he faced Cassie, spun, and took a bow. “I’m ready to go to the ball and meet the princess,” he announced. Cassie’s eyes sparkled with delight, and she nodded. “You look great. Just one thing.” She stepped into his room and reached out, unbuckling one side of the overalls so that the strap dangled and the front flap flopped forward, giving the whole outfit a more casual, cool look. “There. It’s perfect.” “You don’t think I need a hat or something?” he asked, reaching up to pull back his hair. “Nah, you’re rocking that shaggy punk look, a hat would ruin it,” Cassie confirmed. “Alright–come with me back to the common area?” Nodding with newfound confidence, Daniel took his wand from the pocket of his uniform and smiled. “Let’s go.” Together, they took the hall down to the general dorms, where it seemed that half the school was abuzz with excitement. Other covens, including a few who Daniel recognized as successful teams, were chattering or preparing for their own nights out. “I’ll be right back,” Cassie said, walking past the common room towards the bunks, so she could get her own clothes on. Daniel scanned the room and saw his own coven by one of the many hearths, but in an instant he knew something was off. Mathilde looked apologetic, and they all looked disappointed. Crossing to where they were clustered, Daniel asked, “What’s wrong?” “The dean wouldn’t give us a pass,” Mathilde said. “So we can leave, but we have to be back by curfew.” “That’s in like…more than two hours,” Daniel said, doing the math. “It’s enough time to still go out a bit.” “Yeah, but we’re a couple hours ahead of Paris, so it’s still afternoon there. We won’t get to enjoy the nightlife at all,” Asami explained. “And it’s just a crappy call on her part. She said some of our coven has ‘disciplinary records’ that suggest we aren’t trustworthy, so she wouldn’t sign off.” Daniel’s heart sank. “She means me, right?” “Yeah-huh,” Hazel confirmed. His hands balled into fists, and Daniel glowered. “Did she say we weren’t allowed to go, or that she wouldn’t give us a pass?” “Technically, she just wouldn’t give us a pass,” Mathilde said. “But running behind her back probably won’t earn us any favors with her.” “Screw favors. We want to go out tonight? We’re going out tonight. Wait here. I’ll be back.” He started to step away, then paused. “I guess I need one of you to come with me.” “I’ll go,” Hazel volunteered. “But what are you planning?” “Professor Saito has treated me fairly enough, she let Jen and I be brewing partners and hasn’t dealt me any shitty hands,” Daniel said, storming away without another thought. “I think I can convince her to get us the pass.” Hazel nodded. “Yeah, she’s not generally bitchy unless you do something dangerous.” “And yeah,” Daniel continued as he left the common area, moving quickly enough that Hazel had to half jog to keep up despite being of a similar height. “I know it’ll probably piss off the dean, but she doesn’t get to screw you all over just because of me.” “Sure.” Hazel stuck with him as he cut towards the teacher’s wing. “I’m taking a shortcut,” he added. “If she’s not in her office, I don’t want this to take a billion years.” “Sure,” Hazel agreed again. “I’m just along for the ride.” Cutting down the back hall that held Ismella’s room, Daniel took the shortcut he’d learned on his first day, past storage rooms and defunct class spaces that weren’t currently needed. “It’s funny,” he began. “On my first day, I–” Footsteps coming the opposite way down the hall echoed towards them, and he froze. Technically, he wasn’t breaking any rules just using the hallway. He’d checked to be sure; as long as he wasn’t trying to get in anywhere, he couldn’t get in trouble, he’d only been a target for punishment all that time ago because he’d claimed to have been looking for a bathroom. All the same, he didn’t want to be accused of anything when they were about to ask a teacher for a favor. Then again, it wasn’t as though there was anywhere to hide. He just had to keep walking, and hope they met a friendly face. Or…close enough to a friendly face. Professor Blackburn came down the curved hall ahead of them, hesitated, then continued to approach, a cardboard box clutched in her arms. “What are you two doing back here?” “It’s a faster way to get between the dorms and the teacher’s wing, we’re looking for Professor Saito,” Daniel explained. “I see.” She considered for a moment, then nodded. “I suppose congratulations are in order as well, for making it to the Voxavin league. Your unity as a coven is paying off particularly well, even if not everyone’s so happy to see your success.” Daniel almost let the comment breeze past him as a vague reminder that he was disliked, but something in her tone suggested she had a more specific meaning. “Wait, did something happen?” “Nothing you’re meant to be privy to,” Blackburn explained. “But…two teachers objected to your coven being allowed to enter the league, despite having high enough marks. It was enough to spark debate within the faculty coven. Once again, Mr. Aster, you are going to have to prove yourself exemplary if you want to continue on as you have; if you’re a disappointment, it will be used against you.” “How did you vote?” Hazel cut in. “I don’t treat your coven differently than any other in the school,” Blackburn promised them both. “I said you should be allowed to play.” “Thanks.” Hazel paused, then added, “Could you write us a pass to stay out past curfew tonight?” To add context, Daniel threw in, “That’s why we were looking for Professor Saito. We want to celebrate getting into the league.” Blackburn thought for a moment, then nodded. “You have my permission. I’ll be sure to file the pass for you, and I hope you have a good night. Your coven has earned it.” ... Support for this story is contributed from readers like you! If you like what you're reading and have a couple bucks to spare, I'd greatly appreciate the support. https://reamstories.com/peculiarchangelingabdl/public https://subscribestar.adult/peculiarchangeling

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I didn't specify because it's not necessarily important to the story, but my headcanon is that they're in a relationship and roleplaying.

Kim stood by his bedroom door, full of nervous excitement as he waited for the knock. Tap tappety-tap tap. “Hi!” he called, all but throwing it open before he remembered to look sullen. He sighed and slumped his shoulders, dejected. “I mean…ugh, you’re here.” Monica smirked at his eagerness, but caught herself a moment later. Her smirk vanished and she adopted an expression of uncaring boredom, as though Kim were barely worthy of her notice, the kind of look that made him squirm every time. Leaning back, she exhaled into a piece of bubblegum, blowing a bubble that grew almost as large as her breasts before it popped with a sharp snap. She’d dressed to kill, wearing a snug pink crop-top jacket that hugged her chest and exposed most of her midriff, matched with an equally vibrant latex miniskirt that clung to her thighs, heels, and even pink earrings. She looked like a barbie doll, but the kind from the song more than the playsets, except for the bulky, block-print diaper bag she carried over her shoulder. Raising her heart-shaped sunglasses to peer down at him, she spoke with a voice that had a long, drawn out vocal fry on almost every syllable. “Is there a kid named Kim here?” Kim, in his mid thirties, couldn’t be mistaken for a ‘kid’, but that didn’t stop him from nodding. “My name’s Kim.” “Cool.” Strutting past him, she looked around his room like she was sizing it up for a party. “Did your parents leave any instructions?” Kim stood up straight and shook his head. “I’m not a baby. I don’t actually need a babysitter.” Monica gave him an uncertain, apologetic look. “Um…should I actually pretend to call your ‘parents’?” With character dropped for a moment, Kim shook his head. “You’re in charge, I don’t think we need to worry about backstory too much.” “Okay. And should we like…back up to the living room? I know you really wanted the whole, ‘opening the door and seeing me for the first time’ thing, but if we’re pretending you just let me in…” “It’s fine.” He shook his head, and tried to steer his headspace back towards being pent up and helpless. Monica made it easy. When she re-adopted her persona, it was like watching Clark Kent shift to Superman. Nothing about her physically changed, but her posture shifted, sticking out her chest a little more, leaning to the side, somehow making her seem like she shouldn’t be trusted with power tools. “Whatever. I’m here to sit for Kim, you’re Kim.” Kim hesitated. Despite the awkward circumstances, Monica…stirred something in him, and it wasn’t totally unreasonable for him to ask the question on his mind. (The worst she can say is no, right?) “So…are you single, or…would you ever want to…?” She looked at him with a moment of blank confusion, before understanding the implication of his question. Her eyebrows raised, and a fit of laughter began to bubble out of her throat, first as a single giggle, then as laugh, then a half-coherent fit. “Oh my gawd, like–” she wheezed, wiping a tear away from the corner of her eyes. “That’s so precious.” Kim’s face burned and he looked away. A little piece of him tried to think how to recover the situation, but he realized that nothing he could say to come close to salvaging this conversation thread. Moving on, Monica reached down and groped the back of his shorts without warning. Kim yelped and stepped away, too stunned to complain with more than a, “Hey!” “Oh wow, you took off your diaper?” she said. “That’s dumb. What if you have an accident?” He shook his head. “I’m not a baby, I don’t need diapers.” “Yuh-huh.” She looked down at him and shook her head, using one finger to point at his whole body. “I’m babysitting you tonight, and I am not about to deal with you pissing all over yourself. I’m in charge, you’re not, so you have to do whatever I say.” There was no point in arguing, though Kim glowered for a moment. “This is stupid.” Monica ignored the comment and turned to dig through her diaper bag, retrieving a puffy pink diaper in Kim’s size. When she took it out, she noticed Kim still standing there and seemed momentarily confused. “Uh…are you gonna lie down?” He groaned, but obeyed and flopped onto his bed. Monica stepped over and slid his shorts down, followed by his tighty-whities. “Wow, good job keeping these clean,” she commented without a hint of sarcasm, tossing the underwear onto the floor. Neither of them acknowledged his erection, since he couldn’t control that part of himself. Naked below the waist, Kim blushed and stared at the ceiling so that he didn’t have to watch. “I don’t need–” he began, before a plume of baby powder poured out over him, a mushroom cloud of white perfumed dust spreading into the air. He looked down in time to see that the cap had come off the baby powder tube, dousing his thighs, his groin, even some of his stomach with the lavender powder. “Oops,” Monica said, before sliding the diaper into place beneath his hips. “My room’s going to smell like baby powder forever,” Kim complained. “Better than smelling like dirty diapers,” she replied with a shrug. Before folding the diaper up, she took a moment to ‘massage the powder in’, though her real intent was obvious as she exclusively focused on stroking his erection, teasing him until he gasped before returning to the matter at hand. When she wrapped the diaper around him, she pressed his cock against his body so that it lay against his stomach, sticking out over the top of the waistband, then secured down the tapes. “There, that’s way better.” Kim sat up and reached down to adjust himself, but Monica slapped his hand away immediately. “No! Gross! Babies don’t touch themselves.” “I–” he started, exasperated. “I’m just adjusting things!” She grinned wickedly, slightly cracking her persona, but said, “Let your babysitter do it for you.” Reaching down, she slid a hand over the tip of his cock, fingers reaching inside the front of his diaper and stroking him teasingly. Kim bit his lip and tried not to squirm or make a sound as she fondled him, delighting in how desperate he felt, before pushing him down and into the diaper so that any accidents would stay inside the padding, though it now tented out awkwardly in a way that displayed his arousal even more overtly. “Alright.” Monica chewed her gum for a moment, as though her oral fixation was necessary to think. “There. Dinner’s supposed to be in the freezer, I think, I’m gonna go start that.” Kim looked down at the floor, where his shorts and underwear lay in a heap. Sheepishly aware of how his diaper puffed out around his hips, he asked, “Can I put my shorts back on?” “Uh…” Monica began, tapping her index finger on her lower lip in a moment of consideration. “Like…no.” Without hearing a word of complaint, she spun on her heels and left Kim alone in his room, frustrated and horny without an outlet. His willpower cracked in about ten seconds, and as soon as he heard Monica moving around in the kitchen, he reached for the phone on his nightstand. All he had to type was the letter P, and the rest of the URL autofilled, adult videos popping up on his screen in a matter of seconds. It took only moments for him to forget all about the babysitter in the kitchen, and his own hand slipped beneath the rustling waistband of his diaper, rubbing desperately against his erection as the logo and a little iconic jingle for the pornography played out on screen. Tracing his thumb over the head of his cock, he– “What the–no, no!” Monica called, rushing back into his room. He froze, one hand inside his diaper, the other holding his phone as a video of two people fucking played out. “I–” “Bad,” Monica said simply, crossing the room and plucking his phone from his hands. “Babies do not touch themselves, that’s totally inappropriate behavior!” “I’m not a baby!” he complained. “Then why’re you wearing a diaper?” she shot back, digging in her diaper bag once again. It was a ridiculous question. “Because you put me in one!” “Yeah.” Monica rolled her eyes, still focused on fishing in her things. “Because you’re a baby.” There was no winning for Kim. He glowered, but had nothing else to say except, “Can I have my phone back?” Monica shook her head, and produced a plastic box bedazzled with plastic stick-on rhinestones that read ‘Toy Time Out’. The lid showed several buttons and a small LED screen, and after dropping his phone inside, she pressed the ‘start’ button, which caused a ten minute timer to begin counting down. “You can have it back once your time-out is over,” she said. “For now–ten minutes in the corner.” Kim spluttered. “That’s so stupid.” “Well, I’m in charge, so…” Monica began, as though there was no need to finish the thought. “Nose in the corner, mister. I’m waiting.” Glowing with embarrassment, Kim stood and shuffled to the corner of his room. “Hands behind your head,” Monica warned. “I don’t want you doing any more gross stuff.” Shifting back and forth, Kim laced his fingers behind his head, frustration and denial clouding his thoughts. He’d been close before she interrupted him, and that lack of climax made his punishment all the more infuriating. Monica walked away, though she left his door open, and he could hear her out in the living room of his apartment. She said something he couldn’t make out, then giggled. She was on the phone, or just talking to herself, while Kim stood in time-out. He knew he had to look ridiculous. Standing there, nose in the corner, diaper rustling every time he shifted his weight, arousal refusing to die down even as boredom crept over him. Without any way to check the time, he convinced himself it was almost done, but every passing moment only led to more waiting, more boredom, more listening to Monica as she giggled into her phone. Her voice raised, and his ears twitched as he caught some words of the conversation. “Ugh–that’s huge.” (Is she talking about–) “Nnn, I wish I could, I’m stuck babysitting tonight though. But he goes to bed pretty early, so…I dunno.” A pause, then– “Oh yeah! Sorry, how do I…okay! Just a sec.” Kim distinctly heard a zipper sound, then the click of an artificial camera shutter. “Do you like those?” He could picture her with her breasts out, phone raised, snapping selfies as she flirted. Mind abuzz, he tried to think about anything else, but it was hard to distract himself when he had only the corner of the wall to keep his company. Minutes passed, he wasn’t sure how long, until his legs were sore from standing up straight and his arms were tired. Visions of his babysitter danced in his head, posing in various states of undress, but those fantasies only made his boredom worse, desires he couldn’t act on. When he couldn’t stand it anymore, he finally shouted, “How much longer?” A moment passed, and he heard Monica reply, “Uh…” Turning to glance over his shoulder, he lowered his hands. “What?” She appeared in the doorway, no longer blowing gum, though now she was sucking on a cherry lollipop that matched her lipstick. Her top was a little disheveled, and he could see her lace panties over the top of her miniskirt. “Your time-out’s been over for like, forever.” He spun on his heels. “What?” “Yeah, were you standing there this whole time?” She giggled again. “Like…why?” Incredulity made him want to shout, but he felt ridiculous standing there in just a shirt and a diaper, and he didn’t want to look like he was throwing a fit. “How was I supposed to know?” “Ugh, don’t throw a tantrum about it,” Monica said. (But I didn’t–) he thought. (I’m–) Stepping up, she groped the front of his diaper, squeezing around where his cock pressed into the padding. “Huh, okay, well you’re not grumpy because you need a change,” she said, fondling him for a little longer before she pulled away. “Whatever. You can watch cartoons or something if you want until dinner.” “Right, din–” Kim’s eyes widened. “Wait, dinner. When did you put the pizza in?” Monica tilted her head. “What? Like, whenever your time-out started.” “I don’t know how long that was.” Reaching for the plastic box on his nightstand, Kim opened the now-unlocked lid and checked the time. Over half an hour had passed. She shrugged, and Kim moved past her, waddling to the kitchen, followed by his babysitter. The smell of burned pizza filled his nostrils, and he reached for the oven door– Monica caught his wrist. “Uh-uh, babies don’t touch hot things.” She lowered his hand and opened the oven, revealing a charred frisbee of what was once a pizza, smoldering in the oven. “Uh…oops.” “Didn’t you set a timer?” Kim demanded. “Hey, don’t sass me,” she said, “Unless you want to spend the whole night in the corner.” He shook his head, aware that she would absolutely follow through on the threat. “Okay.” “Say you’re sorry,” she challenged, closing the oven door. “But–” “Say it,” she insisted. Looking down at his toes, Kim mumbled, “Sorry…” “See, was that so hard? Plus, I think there’s something else you can eat,” she said, flouncing to the freezer. Kim knew there wasn’t much in there besides the pizza, just a frozen dinner and an old, slightly freezer-burned bag of peas, but it still made him cringe when she opened it. Immediately she seized the frozen dinner and looked at it, turning it over in her hands. “Nice, I’ll have this!” “But–” Kim started. “But what? You can have these,” she said, holding up the bag of peas. “It’s healthier.” “That’s–” he spluttered. “Peas are gross!” She looked at him with an expression that said, ‘Am I supposed to care?’, but just said, “Go watch TV or something, I’ve got to make dinner.” Unable to suppress a snide comment, Kim said, “You mean make dinner again?” Naturally, that landed him in the corner again, where he spent another fifteen minutes standing while Monica struggled not to burn a microwave dinner. This time, he at least tried to count the minutes in his head more carefully, though his ‘babysitter’ retrieved him when the food was done, before the count was up. She sat him down at the table, tucked a napkin into his shirt as an improvised bib, and then dinnertime began. “Aaaand…here comes the airplane!” Monica held a spoonful of mushy, slightly grey looking peas, floating it in front of Kim’s mouth. He stared down at it, cross-eyed and dubious. “Is it supposed to look like that?” “Uh, yeah.” She looked between him and the spoon. “Pretty sure.” “Bu–” he barely managed to get his lips open before she shoved the spoon forward, filling his mouth with overcooked vegetables. Half of it ended up on his face, and he wished that all of it had; the flavor managed to be both overpowering and watery, with a hint of slime that really reinforced that this wasn’t food meant for anyone with taste buds. He screwed up his face in disgust, but Monica just laughed, scraping up some of the mashed pea from off his face, though the effort only spread it around up to his cheeks. “Don’t you like, know how to use a spoon?” She’d been the one to get it everywhere! Not only was this her fault, not only was she making him eat the mush to begin with, she was going to blame him for making a mess? Growing red with anger, Kim snapped, “This is gross!” “I did what it said on the bag,” Monica replied, as though that excused the flavor. “But, fine, whatever. If you finish your dinner you can have some candy.” It wasn’t a real offer, she was going to make him finish the food either way. The only opportunity offered by the candy was that it might wash out the taste of the mush when he was done. He looked down, glowered, pouted, but still gave a timid nod. “Alright then…” Monica said, loading up the spoon with more peas. “Choo choo! Here comes the airplane!” “That’s not even the sound an airp–” Another mouthful of mush interrupted him, and Kim choked it down, squirming his way through the bite. It went like that, unpleasant sludge shoveled from bowl to mouth, with Kim wriggling and trying to think of anything except the taste of the peas, the feel of the slime that was at this point smeared across his cheeks, nose, and chin, the teasing comments she gave at every sour face and the general state of messiness he now lived in. And, above all, he tried not to think about the pervading arousal that refused to go away, no matter how gross the entire experience of dinner had turned out to be. As the bowl emptied and Monica set it aside, Kim felt almost drunk, somehow feeling more empty than he had before eating. Any resistance he felt able to give had been eroded, all his willpower had gone to simply choking down the dinner, and there was not much left in him that could complain. “Alright.” Monica leaned over the table, reaching down to again squeeze the front of his diaper. Her touch lasted for several agonizing, teasing moments, fingers tracing circles over the bulging padding, before she said, “Wow, you like, actually can almost sorta hold it.” “Can I…” he said, swallowing to try and get the taste out of his mouth. “Have that candy now?” “Oh sure, just…first, you’re a mess, you got food all over your clothes.” Reaching down, she took his shirt and pulled it up, half blinding Kim as it got stuck halfway off his body. After some struggling, she got it off the rest of the way, and used the shirt to wipe his face clean of the pea mush she’d put there. Only then did she dig in her diaper bag for a square of chocolate, wrapped in silver foil. Kim reached for it, but instead she unwrapped it and held it up. “Aaaand…open wide!” Of course, he wouldn’t even be allowed to eat that on his own. He obeyed, and she set the chocolate square in his mouth. The quality didn’t matter, anything sweet and made to actually taste good was a godsend, so he chewed and swallowed before she could change her mind and take the prize away from him. “Alright,” Monica declared. “Go play with blocks or watch cartoons or whatever, your bedtime’s in an hour.” “An hour?” Kim demanded, shocked, pointing at the clock on the microwave. “It’s not supposed to be until nine!” Monica looked at the clock, which read ‘7:15,’ then back at him. “Uh…it will be nine?” “No, it will–” “Look, just because you can’t count, that’s not my problem.” She shrugged. “Unless you want to go to bed now?” He squirmed once again. “No…” “So, like, whatever. Bedtime in an hour.” A horrified thought struck him, recalling back to what she’d been doing while he was in time out. She just wanted to send him to bed so he’d be out of the way, so she could get back to sexting with whoever was on the other end of that phone conversation! Unless… He looked at Monica, who was taking the pause to inspect her appearance in the reflection of her fingernails. She was an idiot, but for all of it, he didn’t know if she was even capable of that level of subterfuge. He didn’t know what was worse–losing forty-five minutes of freedom because his babysitter couldn’t do basic math, or because his airhead babysitter was tricking him. Both sent a shudder down his back. Naked save for his diaper, Kim slipped off the kitchen chair, dejected and uncertain. His bladder had begun to twinge, signalling his need to use the bathroom, but he could picture that conversation in his head without playing it out. He’d ask her to use the toilet, she’d say he was in a diaper, he’d object, she’d say something condescending and humiliating, he’d argue, she’d infuriate him, he’d end up in trouble. With pleading eyes, Kim asked, “Can I…use the toilet?” She looked at him and raised an eyebrow. “You’re, like…wearing a diaper.” “But I can hold it!” Kim objected. “So? Hold it, then,” Monica said. “If you’re really potty trained, then don’t go, but don’t cry to me about it when you have an accident.” “But that’s stup–” –Kim found himself in the corner once again, bladder full, thoughts resolutely refusing to focus on anything except how desperate he was to touch himself. He’d earned himself thirty minutes, though he doubted that number would be enforced rigorously. Monica wasn’t paying attention, she wasn’t even trying to. He wasn’t going to escape wetting the diaper, that much was obvious. He could hold it for a while, but his babysitter was supposed to watch him until morning, and he didn’t think anyone could hold it for that long, not with the pressure he already felt. He could have held it for longer, if he’d tried, but there was increasingly little point in trying to fight against Monica’s rules. She was in charge, and she had set him up to fail. With only the corner to see his blush, he released his bladder, flooding the diaper with warmth that spread around his trembling cock. Shame burned on his face as the soggy warmth spread, saturating the padding, causing what was once dry to swell around him. There was no more ignoring it. He needed to touch himself. Glancing over his shoulder, he stole a peek through his open bedroom door, but he couldn’t see Monica watching him. Once certain he wouldn’t be caught, he lowered his hands, slid one down the front of his diaper, and began to stroke. He didn’t need long. Between all the teasing, the humiliation, and the need, he was pent up and desperate. Just a little rubbing, a little sensation, and– “Are you–oh my god, gross, no!” He didn’t make it. Before Kim could have more than a few seconds of pleasure, Monica burst in and any hope in his heart died. Monica pulled him from the corner and yanked his hand from his diaper, observing that the white padding had turned a bright yellow. “See? This is why you don’t do that–now you’ve got piss all over your hands. Gross!” “I–” Kim stammered, but she held his wrist and shook her head. “Nope. If you can’t play with your toys nicely, I’ll have to take them away.” “My hands?” he spluttered. “How–?” She had already let him go, and turned to dig through her diaper bag once more. This was…a stretch, admittedly, but too much of the fantasy to leave out. She produced a sturdy canvas diaper cover with durable straps and loops built in, and a matching pair of pink mittens. Going for the mittens first, she opened one up and held it out. “Come on, hands.” A thousand ‘Buts’ ran through Kim’s head, and he tried to decide which one to go with. “You’re already getting ten minutes,” she said. “Do you want to make it thirty? Cuz it’s all the same to me if you get in trouble until bedtime.” “Just fifteen minutes?” he asked, hopeful that he’d still have a chance once it was bedtime and he was alone. She nodded. “Well, yeah.” Tentatively, he stuck a hand into the first mitten, then did the same with the other. Monica tugged the straps on them through a loop, then clicked two locks in place, sealing them onto his hands. Then, for good measure, she held up the diaper cover. “To make sure you don’t get my mittens all gross,” she said. “Because you totally would stick them into your pissy diaper if I didn’t. I’m not stupid.” Trembling, Kim stepped into the cover, and with a few adjustments to the strap around the waist, Monica locked it as well. Taking the key from her bag, she held it up for him to see, then dropped it into the lockbox. Kim’s stomach sank as she began pressing buttons, each time producing a solid click, adding minutes to his punishment. Click, click, click– “That was more than ten!” he yelped. “Uh…yeah, I can’t make this count down,” she said, sheepishly staring at the lid. “Okay, thirteen, whatever.” She closed the lid and pressed start. “Thirteen minutes, then we’ll see if you can stop being such a naughty baby with your hands.” The worst part was, she was right, for once. He didn't have the willpower to keep his hands away, even with–or maybe because of–the warm squish around his groin that pressed into him with every movement. Another concern struck him then, looking down at his snugly locked up diaper and nullified hands. A cramping in his belly, more sudden and sharp than it had any right to be. His eyes widened. (No, she couldn't have–) Waddling to the kitchen, he pawed at the lid to the trash bin, though he couldn't get it open through the mittens. “Monica!” “What are you doing?” She asked, watching from the next room, genuinely curious and not mad. “I need to see the label from the candy,” he explained. Her eyes widened in alarm. “Oh shit, are you allergic or something?” Crossing to the trash bin, she opened it and snatched the wrapping from the chocolate. “What am I looking for?” Kim could see it clearly from the backside of the wrapper. Fast Acting Choc-Lax. (She's not that stupid, is she?) “Where did you get that?” He asked. “I found it in the bathroom, next to the aspirin,” she replied, calmed down now that she had ruled out allergies. “Was it hidden as a surprise?” “It's a laxative!” He yelped. “You drugged me!” “A laxative?” She asked. “I didn't stick it up your butt.” “No, but–it’s going to make me need to…” he squirmed and looked down, blushing. “Go number two.” She stared at him blankly, confused at what the issue could even be. “So? You aren't potty trained, so it's not like that changes anything.” He stamped his foot in sheer pique. “I am potty trained!” Monica snorted. “You just said you were gonna poop your pants, baby. That's not ‘very ‘potty trained’ behavior.” His stomach gurgled noisily, churning with the effects of the ‘candy’ he’d been rewarded with. He put both mittened hands over his stomach and paced, fighting off the sheer humiliation that would come if he actually filled his diaper in front of his babysitter. Checking her phone, Monica said, “Oh, and your bedtime’s in like…basically once your toy time-out is over.” That was no time at all, but he didn’t have the wherewithal to complain when he was focused on not losing the last shreds of his dignity. But– “Once I go to bed, will you still let me change if I need it?” he asked, feeling pathetic for even voicing the question. She rolled her eyes. “Nah. Bedtime’s bedtime, no cheating just ‘cuz you had an accident.” Then…he had to decide now.; Try and hold it all night, battling laxative-induced cramps, or give up, concede defeat, and at least get a clean diaper before Monica put him to bed. Given how hard he was struggling already, less than an hour after eating the chocolate, that was no choice at all. Looking around, he tried to see if he could get any privacy, and settled on waddling towards his room. “Where’re you going?” Monica asked, more confused than anything. “My…room,” he said, “So I can use my diaper.” “Uh…yeah, no.” She shook her head. “You’re sneaking off to try and touch yourself again.” “But–” “I’m not like, dumb,” she scoffed, shaking her head. “You’ve been trying to play with yourself all night, and you keep complaining that you’re potty trained, so what, I’m supposed to believe that suddenly you’re just going to go poop your pants on purpose?” That was largely what he wanted her to believe, though when she said it like that, even Kim doubted himself. “I mean…yes?” “Then do it.” Monica crossed her arms in front of her chest and waited, tapping a foot. “But–” “Now, buddy, or you’ll be in time out until bedtime for lying, and then you won’t have time for a diaper change either.” She pointed one finger at his locked-up diaper for extra emphasis. “Go on, prove it.” Kim burned red, but he had no choice. Humiliate himself in front of Monica, or be trapped in a dirty diaper all night once the laxatives won. He cast his eyes down, balled up his fists, and bent his knees slightly, praying he could just teleport somewhere else and cease to exist. Instead, all his concentration and effort got him was a new defeat, surrendering to the drugs he’d been fed and allowing his control to end. Solid muck began to fill the seat of his diaper, like warm mud being poured down the back of his pants, and once he started there was no more stopping it. Monica snorted, caught herself, then began to laugh. “Oh my god,” she announced, while Kim was trapped in the middle of loading his diaper. “You’re actually going? On purpose?” He looked up and saw her in the midst of a giggle fit, and his embarrassment only flared hotter. “I–you said–” “You said you didn’t have any potty training problems,” Monica wheezed, chest shaking so that her breasts bounced with every fit of laughter. “So I guess you just wanted to poop your diaper, huh?” “No!” he yelped, though it was hard to argue when bulging, smelly mush was still inflating his diaper, making it sag as he packed it full beneath the locking cover. Monica covered her face as a shield against the foul smell, then laughed even harder. “Oh god–you really stink. Too bad you can’t even pinch your nose–I guess you shouldn’t have been such a gross baby.” Finally, the outpouring of his dignity ended, and Kim wobbled, lightheaded and barely coherent. “I…” he mumbled. “Um–” With an enormous eye-roll, Monica stepped up to him, reached down, and groped the seat of his diaper, pressing the squelchy mess into him. His erection, which hadn’t even come close to going down, only surged harder with the humiliation as she ‘checked’ his diaper, confirming what was abundantly obvious. “Wow,” she said. “I…ugh, fine. I guess I have to change you, since it’s not bedtime yet. Just a sec…” Turning, she walked away, leaving him to stand there with his diaper sagging and legs splayed, helpless to do anything about the stinky, heavy diaper he’d been trapped in. He couldn’t even fumble at the lock; without hands, the most he could do was paw at it, trying to pull it free, trying to– “Wow, you’re still trying to touch yourself?” Monica asked, waltzing back in from his bedroom. He turned a shade more red, if that was possible. “What? No, I–” “Yeah, I don’t believe you, so…” she said, before looking a bit guilty. “Uh…about the toy time out.” Kim knew what she was about to say, but still allowed the horror to creep over him. “What?” “I, uh…” Monica rubbed at the back of her neck. “May have accidentally set the timer to not be in minutes.” “Not…what?” “But,” Monica said, looking more cheery. “Bright side, I don’t have to get anywhere near that for another thirteen hours. I don’t really do dirty diaper changes normally, so that’s like…cool.” He was trapped anyway. He’d done what she said, he’d filled his diaper right in front of her, choosing not to try and hold it, and he was trapped anyway. “Ugh,” Monica continued, lost in her own train of thought. “But if you’re pawing at it all night, it’ll get super gross, and you’re too dumb to try not to…” “I won’t!” Kim’s voice cracked on the lie, both of them knew he’d still try it. Monica shook her head, then reached out and grabbed his wrist. “Whatever, it’s bedtime.” “I still have ten minutes!” “Who’s in charge here, exactly? Because I don’t think the baby in a poopy diaper gets to make any grown-up decisions.” She pulled him towards his bed, then turned, once again, to fish in her ‘diaper bag’. This time she produced a pair of velcro cuffs with clips, the kind that anyone with fingers could easily undo. Unfortunately, with the mittens, Kim was pretty helpless even when it came to a simple clip. “Lie down,” she said, moving to wrap one of the cuffs on the right side of his headboard, then mirroring the motion on the left. Kim hesitated, so she pushed him down, forcing one of his hands up to the clip. Snapping the mitten in place, she wiggled his wrist, seeing how much range of motion he had before locking his other wrist to the far side of the headboard. Standing back, she admired her handiwork. “There–now you won’t do anything yucky while you’re asleep.” Kim wriggled and kicked his legs, but all that accomplished was making his diaper squish between his thighs. He couldn’t lower his hands below his neck, he could only lay there and squirm, trapped with his yucky diaper and his thoughts. “What if there’s an emergency?” he asked. “You can’t just leave me tied up all night!” “Don’t worry about it, poopy butt,” Monica teased, removing one more device from her bag–a baby monitor, which she sat on his nightstand. “I’ve got this. If you need something, I’ll hear you calling for it.” He whimpered and gave the restraints one last tug, but with his wrists bound, hands trapped in mittens, and diaper locked securely around his waist, there was nothing else he could do. “Sleepytime, baby,” Monica said, turning to sashay out of his room, moving her hips side to side and swaying her body just to tease him a little more before she turned out the light and shut the door. Kim wriggled, tugged at his restraints, and tried humping the air just to get a little sensation through the layers of abused diaper, but it wasn’t enough. The modicum of friction he could get, squishing the front of his diaper around, was just enough to be teasing, aggravating, worse than nothing. And, as he tried, he heard the baby monitor crackle to life. “Ugh, now that twerp is finally to bed…where were we?” Monica’s voice, loud and clear, echoing through the baby monitor. “Don’t worry, he can’t hear us,” Monica continued. “He’s asleep in the other room. Did you like the pictures I sent?” She was flirting on the phone. Raising his head, Kim spoke towards the baby monitor. “Monica? Can you…I think you did something wrong.” She didn’t reply. She couldn’t hear him, even though he could hear her loud and clear. She’d mixed up the monitor, leaving the receiver in his room. That meant he couldn’t get her attention if he wanted it. It also meant he could hear every moment of her flirting on the phone, the tug of a zipper, and then the totally unashamed, blissful groaning as Monica began to touch herself. There was nothing Kim could do. His thoughts were eroded away, and the only sensations he could comprehend were desperation and degradation. Trying to hump at nothing only left him out of breath, panting, breathing in smelly air, and trying not to hump left him unable to think about anything except how badly he wanted to rip his hands free and start rubbing the front of his diaper. Monica’s pleasure only sent that need to new heights, her every gasp and moan reminding him that she was getting the pleasure he’d been denied. All Kim could hope was that, once this was over, she would be willing to babysit him again. ... Support is always appreciated! A couple bucks a month goes a long way, and my subs get early access and exclusive content! https://reamstories.com/peculiarchangelingabdl https://subscribestar.adult/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. 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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