Three

For the first time in my life, I wake in the morning with the momentary confusion of being unsure whose limbs are wrapped around me. Philip’s? But isn’t he on the other side of the ocean?

Oh. Right. These slender legs could only belong to one person. Likely the same person whose wet diaper has added a damp, musty, scent to the bedroom.

“Good morning, Luna,” I coo to her.

Her eyelids flutter and she smiles.

“Hi,” she offers.

I worry, for a moment, that she’ll realize that she woke up attached to my body like a barnacle, get embarrassed, and quickly scuttle away from me. But she doesn’t. In fact, she seems to make herself even more comfortable, her arms wrapping around my chest and squeezing a little tighter.

As tempting as it is to say something–maybe just a comment on the state of her diaper, or letting her know that I liked sleeping with her–I decide that I like the quiet simplicity of this moment more, and I leave it be without saying anything at all.

We stay like this for another thirty minutes.

===

“Do you have clothes?” I ask.

“Somewhere, maybe,” Luna says from the floor as her face hovers above her water bowl. Her uncertainty about her answer suggests that she hasn’t had to think about clothes for a very long time. “Why?”

“I just thought, I dunno, you and me could go out or something?”

Luna frowns a little at this. She doesn’t look upset, but I sense that she’s not as excited about the idea as I am.

“I’m not sure…”

“Look, it’s fine,” I say. “I don’t want to push you out of your comfort zone. I was just thinking out loud.”

“I…I like the idea,” she says. “And I appreciate that you’d want to go out of the house with me. But I’m not really supposed to be, like, out there.”

I’m curious as to who put that restriction on her. I’m sure that with the way Philip treats her, she has no need to ever leave his home–but has he ever told her that she can’t leave? Because that would be a little concerning to me.

But then my eyes fixate on her plump diaper, sagging a little from her bottom with a damp yellow stain covering a good portion of it. It seems more likely she’s put this restriction on herself–she doesn’t want to walk around in public in a diaper. Fair enough.

“Well, if you change your mind, it’s an open invitation,” I say. “But no pressure.”

“Thanks,” she says, before slinking away from the water bowl and out of the room–her jingling collar giving me an idea of where she might have crawled to.

I opt not to follow. The last thing I want to do is pressure her into spending time with me outside of the house. And, maybe, I’m being silly for even suggesting it. If Luna is happy here–and being here is all she wants in this world–then what else can I do but respect that?

I’m thinking about, when I eventually see her again, apologizing. I’ll reassure her that I want her to be happy and comfortable, no matter what form that takes. But that’s when I hear the jingling of her collar again-coming closer and closer.

She’s in the doorway.

“The thing is,” Luna says, “I don’t know where my clothes are–if I have any at all.”

I can’t help but laugh. “But if you had clothes?”

She nods. “It might be nice to get out for a little bit.”

“I can help you with that.”

===

I don’t have exact measurements or sizes for Luna’s clothes, but I’m pretty confident that I can guesstimate what I need. I had tried to ask what sorts of styles she liked or would be willing to wear, but Luna could only shrug.

She was a blank canvas. She’d wear what I bought her.

Luna wasn’t with me as I strolled through the store–she was at home still, crawling around in her collar and cat ears. I imagined her squatting in the kitchen, her cheeks red as she left a nasty little present in her diaper for me to contend with when I got back.

That’s fine. I’m actually looking forward to that.

I’m not shopping alone, though. I’d never step foot in a mall without my partner-in-shopping.

“So, who exactly is this girl again?” Trini asks.

I should be blunt with her. I should just put all the weirdness out there to see how she reacts to it. Would she call me insane for playing along? Probably.

“She’s a, uh, friend of Philip’s.”

“But they’re not…dating?”

“No,” I say, shaking my head. “Just a friend.”

“Are you sure about that? Because do you remember Kayleigh? She became best friends with her boyfriends girl-who-is-just-a-friend, only to find out that girl was fucking Kayleigh’s boy behind her back.”

“I don’t think this is like that,” I say.

“Are you sure?”

“Very sure.”

“But how can you be so sure?”

Well, she poops in diapers, drinks milk from a dish on the floor, and watches Philip fuck me. I think we’re good.

“I’m sure enough.”

“And you’re buying her clothes?” Trini asks.

“She, uh, doesn’t get out much,” I answer. It’s not a lie. “She was feeling pretty self-conscious about her wardrobe…” Again, not a lie. “...so I offered to pick her up a few things.”

Trini shrugs. I have no doubt that she suspects there’s more to the story, but she’s a good enough friend to recognize that this is all she’s getting for now. Someday, hopefully sooner than later, I’ll spill all the beans–and I’m excited to see her head explode as a result.

“So what are you thinking? Like, how cute do you want this girl to look?”

“She’s pretty adorable while completely naked, so it won’t be hard to make her cute.”

Trini stares at me, mouth agape.

“N-no,” I say, quickly backpedaling. I realize I need to be much more careful about what I say. “I just mean that she’d look really cute without wearing anything at all. I haven’t actually seen her nude.”

Or in a diaper.

“Sure,” Trini says, a little grin on her face.

I know I should probably double down on my claim that I’ve never seen Luna naked, but it’s a little more fun to just let it go. Let Trini think whatever she wants to think.

“Do you have a picture of her?” she asks. “It might help as I pick out things.”

“I don’t think I do, actually.” Even if I had photos, I doubt I’d share them with her–they’d all be of Luna crawling around in a dirty diaper.

“Facebook? Instagram?”

“Uh…I’m not sure she has those.”

“Get the fuck out of here,” Trini hisses. “Impossible.”

“Not everyone is on social media…”

“And you don’t have any photos of her. And she, apparently, needs clothes. Is this girl real, Nora? You can tell me.”

I bite my lip and sigh. Trini’s not wrong–the more we talk about Luna, without Trini having met Luna herself, the harder it is to dance around the details I’m trying to avoid.

“She’s real. She’s just…” I come close to just spitting out the truth, but I’m still not ready for that just yet. “It’s complicated.”

“Sounds like it.”

“Cute,” I say, changing the subject. “I’m just looking for cute clothes for a cute girl.”

“What about those,” Trini says, pointing to a pair of white jeans. They have some faux-distressing in the news, and look like they’d be rather tight. Trini’s not wrong–they’re cute.

But there’s no way in hell that Luna would ever be able to pull these up over her diaper.

“I do like them,” I say. “But I’m thinking of something like a dress or a skirt?”

Trini shrugs. “Yeah? Alright, I’ll keep my eyes peeled.”

We delve a little deeper into the aisles of feminine fashions. Trini seems a little disconnected from the original task and is mostly shopping for herself now. I’m a little distracted too–though for different reasons. I’m thinking about the current state of Luna’s diaper. I’m thinking about what it must smell like. How much it’s sagging. I’m imagining a wet diaper being pressed into her face again, with piss slowly soaking into her hair and dripping down her face and neck.

Now my pussy is getting wet, dampening my panties.

Speaking of, I spot a display of panties. For a moment, I consider buying Luna a few pairs–the idea of buying her underwear is pretty fun–but it’s probably not a good idea. The little thing probably needs to be kept in her diapers even when we’re out in public. Still, there’s a part of me that wants to see her ruin a pair of these silky red things with lace trim. I imagine her gasping in terror as a firm log escapes her ass and slowly expands the back of the panties.

Jesus. What’s wrong with me? Since when did stuff like this turn me on?

Still, I can’t deny that it does. My pussy is throbbing, and I feel like I’ll never be able to complete this mission if I can’t excuse myself and slip a hand into my panties.

“Trini?”

“Yeah?”

“Hey, I’m going to run to the restroom for a minute. I’ll be right back.”

===

Upon my return to Philip’s home–big bags full of clothing in hand–my nostrils immediately detect a lingering stench in the air. It isn’t so overpowering that it’s the only thing I can smell, but the musky odor is certainly there, and it seems to be present no matter what room I venture into.

I have my suspicions on what it could be, but I figure it might be best to confirm before I jump to conclusions.

“Luna?” I call out. “I’m back. Where are you?”

No answer. Is she sleeping? Or hiding from me?

“Luna?”

Still nothing.

As the toucan from the old cereal commercial used to say, I’d just ‘follow my nose’ and see where it led me. The smell was weaker in the kitchen. Weakest in the bathroom–no surprise there. Stronger in the hallway. Strongest in Philip’s bedroom. So strong, in fact, that I’m pretty sure I’ve found ground zero.

Still, I don’t see Luna.

“Luna? I know you can’t be too far from here. I mean…I can smell that you’re nearby.”

It’s the jingle of her collar that gives her away–there, hiding behind the open closet door, I see some slender feet.

“Are you hiding from me?”

“N-no…”

“Are you sure? Because…I can’t imagine many other reasons you might be hiding behind that door.”

She sighs and slowly emerges. If I have any lingering doubts about the state of her diaper–and I really don’t–she puts them to rest. Her diaper is sagging considerably. The color around her rear end is a muddled brown.

“Sorry,” she says, staring down at the floor.

“You knew I’d see this eventually, right?”

“Yes, but…”

“It’s cute that you’re so bashful about it still. But I thought you’d be used to making messes in your pants like this by now.”

She sighs. “But…it’s new for me to do it around, uhm, you.”

“Ah,” I say, nodding. Maybe I can’t relate to this exact scenario, but I do know what she means. It’s similar, I think, in the little ways I embarrass myself in front of Philip as we get to know each other. Like the first time he catches me singing to myself as I cook. Or the first time he heard one of my infamously loud, high-pitched, sneezes. In time, these things will be normal, but there has to be a first time.

I extend my open hand towards her, hoping she’ll take it. “Come on out, Luna. You don’t have to be ashamed of that.”

She sheepishly reaches out, herself, taking my hand and allowing me to pull her out of her makeshift hiding place. It’s hard to describe what I’m feeling. It’s a positive emotion, I’m sure of this much, but it’s more than that. It’s almost…maternal. As if my passion, the only thing I care about in this moment, is to take care of this girl.

Without being asked, she lowers herself to the ground again–her natural state of being on her hands and knees. I wouldn’t have told her to do that if she hadn’t. Actually, I would’ve led her by the hand all the way to her changing table. I don’t mind this, though.

“Go on,” I say. “Let’s get you changed and smelling a little prettier, hmm? Lead the way.”

Her cheeks redden as she nods and begins to crawl ahead of me. I follow behind, watching her loaded diaper sag and rock back and forth between her thighs as she crawls. The diapers movements, paired with her strides, are almost hypnotic to me.

Can you even believe this? This girl is crawling in front of you. You’re staring at her diapered ass–knowing–that she’s shit herself. And you’re…excited? Enchanted? Turned on?

My panties are feeling a little moist. It almost feels like a betrayal of self–as if I had once vowed to never be turned by this sort of thing. But that wasn’t the case. I never knew there were such pleasures in this world until recently–how could I have made my mind up about them in advance?

It’s a betrayal of social standards, I suppose. That brings me a little shame. We’re not supposed to want to poop in our pants as adults. And we’re definitely not supposed to be turned on when another adult does it.

Fuck that. I love this.

It’s not until Luna’s atop the changing table that I truly consider the task before me. It’s one thing to gawk at and be turned on by her dirty diaper–but I also have to actually change her. I can do it, I’m sure of that, but it’s been a while since I changed a messy diaper. I wondered if this would be the moment when my sinful fantasies halted. This could be the wakeup call that this lifestyle isn’t for me.

Only one way to find out.

I slowly peel back the first tape. It sticks a little, pulling up some of the thin plastic outer-shell of the diaper with it, but I manage to finally release. Onwards to the next. Then the next. And then the last. All that’s left to do now is pull open the diaper and assess the damage. I look up at Luna’s face and see that her cheeks are redder than I’ve ever seen them before. But, also, I swear her lips are twisted into a little grin.

I suppose I can relate to that–I’m both dreading and looking forward to this reveal.

I pull the diaper open, lowering the front of it between her open legs. It’s…a mess. Obviously. But it doesn’t register to me as the worst I’ve ever seen. Not now, at least–later, I’m sure I’ll think back on this and gasp at what I’ve seen. At this moment, it looks like every dirty diaper I’ve ever seen in my entire life. She’s just another baby in need of someone to take care of her.

“Someone made a big stinky, huh?” I say as I draw some moist baby wipes from the package. I don’t even mean to say it–I just sort of blurt it out. It’s probably the same sort of mindless cooing I’d do when changing a real infant when I was younger. It never matters what you say, but the babies like hearing your reassuring voice.

Luna doesn’t reply, though she bites her bottom lip.

“Yucky,” I continue, putting no thought into what I’m saying as I proceed to wipe her skin clean, one small section at a time. “Just a smelly little baby girl, that’s all I see here.”

Luna moans a little. Is it what I’m saying? The feeling of me wiping her skin? A combination of both?

“I saw these cute little panties at the store today, and I almost got them for you. But then I thought about how you might ruin them. And, well, looking at what you’ve done in your diaper, I’m sure I was right about that.”

She lets out another little noise–a squeak more than anything, though it’s clearly the sound of someone trying to keep their pleasure contained–and failing.

“But do you want to know something?” I ask.

Luna’s eyes get big. “Hm?”

“I bought them anyway.”

Luna’s moan is nice and long this time–an almost musical hum: “Mmmmmmmm.”

It takes longer than I expect it to for her bottom to be considered ‘clean.’ For as similar as she is to an actual baby, the differences do reveal themselves. Her size, for one. She’s still a tiny thing, but she’s still an adult. It takes a little extra effort to hoist her bottom into the air to get her ass completely cleaned, though I manage. The process would probably be easier if she just took a shower–or if I had a garden hose–but that’d also be missing the point. Doing it this way is much more fun. I wonder if this is why Philip made the change from litter boxes to diapers.

Litter boxes. That must’ve been a hoot to watch. I should ask about that sometime.

All that’s left to do is to apply a new diaper, and maybe some powder. But I look at her labia and see that it’s glistening in a way that I can’t help but see as…inviting.

“Come with me,” I say, taking her hand and pulling her into a sitting position.

“But…”

“You don’t need a diaper,” I say. “Not yet.”

===

Luna is pinned beneath me in Philip’s bed. I doubt Philip would approve of this–seeing as how he insists he’ll never fuck her. But he’s not here right now, and I’ve never made any sort of pledge for abstaining from Luna like that.

Truth be told, I’m not even sure what I’m going to do with her–I’m already a bit outside of my comfort zone. But, goddamn, I want her and I want her bad. I want all of her. I just want to…devour her. It’s like that thing where you see a cute puppy or baby and you want to love it so much that you’re worried you’ll squeeze it harder than you should. And she is a kitten.

Luna says nothing. Instead, she just stares up into my eyes longingly. Does she love me, I wonder? Or would she love anyone who was atop of her body, promising sexual gratification?

It doesn’t really matter to me. Not right now.

If I had a cock, I’d fuck her. I’ve never had such a thought before–but all I can think about is how badly I want to fill her little pussy. I want to explode inside of her.

I want to make little kittens, I think devilishly.

Her legs wrap around me, her ankles locking at the small of my back–pressing my pussy against hers. We don’t move for a few moments, but we also don’t have to. It’s as if power is transferring between our bodies while I feel her warmth and wetness, and she feels mine.

My head bobs down and my lips meet hers. She’s a remarkably good kisser, and within seconds I’m already wondering if this is the best kiss I’ve ever had in my life.

From somewhere else, I can hear my phone’s ringtone sounding off. I’m almost positive that it’s Philip, checking in on us.

“Sorry, can’t talk right now, Philip. I’m too busy devouring your little kitten.”

She tries to say something, pulling her lips away from mine when she can to slowly get it out: “I…uhm…want…you…to…”

I’m far too impatient to wait to see where she’s going with this. “Hush,” I say to her as I peel my face from hers. I hoist my entire body up from hers, wriggling from the surprisingly tight grasp of her legs. I crawl north towards the head of the bed and I don’t stop until my dripping cunt is hovering over her face.

“Y-yes,” she says–either confirming that this is what she would’ve asked for, or deciding that this was a much better idea than whatever she had in mind.

She knows what she’s doing, it seems. Which is a good thing, because I doubt I could teach her if I had to. Admittedly, I’ve never given oral to another woman. I’ve always wanted to try it, but the opportunity never came about. Also, another woman has never tasted me before either–but I didn’t think it would be that different from when a man put his face between my legs.

I was wrong. Everything is completely different. Maybe it’s the angle–I’m not sure that I’ve ever sat on anyone’s face before. But it’s more than that. Luna knows what she’s doing, and I suspect it’s because she knows what she–herself–would want if she was sitting on my face.

I so badly want to sit atop my throne for a good long while, riding her for hours as she pleasures me. But all too quickly, I feel an orgasm building inside of me, and it only takes a few short minutes for her to render me a moaning, panting, mess. I feel my cheeks warm as I squirt onto her face–possibly even in her mouth, I can’t say for sure. Moments later, I’m lying on the bed on my side with no recollection of getting off of her.

“Good?” she asks.

“The best.”

“I…I really liked doing that for you,” she says.

“I liked you doing that for me too.”

She hums with approval. I almost expect her to ask if I’d do the same for her, but she doesn’t. I like that about her–she’s a servant at heart, and she lives to please others. If this was all we did, she wouldn’t complain at all. She might even be happy with that.

Lucky for her, I want to taste her. All of her. I want her to cum on my face. I want to lick her nipples. I want to see how she reacts to my tongue dancing around her tight little asshole.

“You stay where you are,” I say to her. “It’s my turn.”

===

I rarely, if ever, take naps. I like the idea of them, but it’s hard for me to pull myself away from life to just…do nothing. I’d almost rather be watching TV or reading a book in downtime like that.

But occasionally, naps happen. And they always feel so glorious that I wake wondering why I don’t that more often.

My eyes slowly open, seeing that there’s still daylight on the other side of the windows in Philip’s bedroom. I smile, feeling the smooth skin of Luna as she cuddles next to me.

She’s awake, though. I realize that it was her who woke me, her little hand still gently shaking my shoulder. There’s a slightly worried look on her face that wakes me further.

“Luna? Everything okay?”

“I…I’m sorry to wake you,” she says. “But…there’s a problem.”

I almost ask her what the problem is, but it quickly occurs to me that I might already know. There’s a cool dampness on my bottom, like I’m lying on a wet towel. I slide my hand closer to her body on the mattress and find that the closer it gets–the wetter it is.

“Did you…”

“I peed,” she says. “I wet the bed.”

She cautiously studies my face, waiting to see what my reaction might be. I wonder what Philip’s reaction would be? He likely wouldn’t have let her in his bed without a diaper, so I can’t imagine he’d be too happy about this. But me? I don’t really mind. I actually find it kind of cute.

“It’s not a big deal,” I say. “Let’s get up. We should probably get you into a diaper, huh?”

Her cheeks turn bright red. “Probably. But what about…”

“I’ll take care of the bed,” I say. “After I take care of you.”

I pull her from the bed and we head back out of the room and to where her changing table is. She’s on her hands and knees crawling again, and though I know some time has passed since I first dragged her into Philip’s bedroom, it feels like we just got here. Once again, I follow behind her, and I notice wet droplets rolling down her thighs as she crawls. It’s tempting to just lick them up, but I’m still groggy enough that I don’t spring myself on her.

Soon after, she’s in a fresh diaper and I send her on her way with a firm swat to the padded bottom–her little bell jingling as she scurries off. It’s to assess the damage to Philip’s bed.

To my surprise, and relief, it looks as if Philip had accounted for this possibility. There’s a thick mattress pad beneath the sheets that looks to have absorbed most of Luna’s urine without letting it seep into the mattress itself. I wonder if this was always just a preventative measure, or if Luna had wet the bed once before, teaching Philip a lesson about needing extra protection.

It didn’t really matter, and I stripped everything from the bed–readying myself for a long afternoon of laundry.

===

After starting the washing machine, I remember that I had missed a call from Philip earlier. I don’t know the time difference between here and Greece, but decide to call anyway, curious to see if he’ll answer. He does.

“Well, hello hello,” he says. He sounds much more awake than I expect him to be.

“Sorry I missed your call earlier.”

“Oh, it’s not a problem. Have your hands full?”

Well, my mouth was full of your kitten’s tongue when you called… “A little. You know how it is.”

“I do,” he chuckles. “Things are going well with you and Luna?”

“Very,” I say. He can’t see the ridiculously big smile on my face, but I wonder if he can hear it.

“Good. I, uh, hope that you haven’t had any diaper changes that were too difficult…”

“Nothing I couldn’t handle,” I say confidently. “You missed a rather impressive load in her diaper today, actually.”

“Is that so?”

“I almost wished I weighed the diaper when I was done taking it off of her.”

“You should’ve,” he laughs. “I’ve never thought of that before, but it’s a fantastic idea.” He sighs wistfully. “I miss her.”

“She misses you,” I reply. I have no idea if that’s true or not. We haven’t talked about Philip much.

“I miss you too,” he says.

This brings a smile to my face. It’ll never not be nice to be missed. Still…I can’t say that I’ve missed him myself. But that isn’t to be mistaken for me not caring about him. I like Philip very much–it’s just that all of my time has been consumed with Luna.

“I miss you too,” I say. I’m just being polite, but it doesn’t feel like a lie. I’ll be happy to see him again–but I’m plenty distracted in the meantime.

“That makes me happy,” he says.

“So?” I say, looking to change the subject. “What about you? You’re in fucking Greece right now. How is that?”

“Well, admittedly, I’ve mostly been trapped in my parents house so far, so I can’t say that I’ve seen all the sights. But it’s been a very nice time so far. Too much to drink. Too much to eat.”

“Doesn’t sound like a bad thing to me.”

“I’d love for you to be here,” he says. “You and Luna.”

“You sure you want to travel across the ocean with little Miss Potty-Pants?” It’s intended as a joke, but it was part of the reason he didn’t travel with Luna in the first place.

“Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad if there were two of us to keep an eye on her.”

“Look, if you’re flying me to Greece, I’ll deal with any number of mid-flight dirty diapers.”

“Careful,” he says. “I might just take you up on that offer.”

We both laugh a little. From somewhere else, I can hear Luna’s collar jingling. I wonder if she’s close enough that she can hear us talking.

“Hey…I was thinking,” he says, his voice sounding a little cautious.

“Yeah?”

“Ah…” His voice trails off. “Actually, no. Hold that thought. I’m a little, er, tipsy at the moment. We can talk about it more when I get back.”

“Aw, c’mon,” I coo to him. “You’re going to leave me hanging like that?”

He laughs again. I didn’t hear it in his voice before, but now that I know he’s been drinking, I can kind of hear it in his voice–the slightest warble in his tone. It’s cute. It’s the little reminder I needed to remind me that for as infatuated with Luna as I am, I’m still quite fond of Philip.

“Well, I’m just saying,” he says, the slur in his voice coming out a little more–perhaps he’s allowing his guard to come down a little now. “I could use an extra hand around the house with Luna. Like…full time?”

“Are you asking me to move in?”

He laughs. “See? I told you–we should have this conversation when I’m home. And sober.”

“We can talk about it more when you come back,” I say. “But, just so you don’t have to stress about how I might react to the idea in the meantime…I think it’s a good idea.”

“Y-yeah?”

“Mmhmm.”

“Well, on that note… I should probably stop while I’m still ahead. Have a good night, Nora.”

“Good night, Philip,” I say, catching a glimpse of the sunlight outside of the laundry room’s window.

===

In a dark blue cocktail dress, Luna looks like a completely different person. When concealed behind a bra and a dress, her chest looks ‘womanly,’ I suppose, rather than how girlish and juvenile it looks when left exposed all day. I’ve done her makeup. I’ve fixed her hair. She looks like a piece of art now–almost too nice to drag out into a world that isn’t good enough for her.

“Do I look pretty?” she asks.

“What do you think?” I ask, pointing to the mirror. “Do you think you look pretty?”

“Yes.”

“I think you look pretty,” I say. “I think you look amazing.”

“I miss this,” she says, though she’s quick to add: “Not that I wish I could look like this all the time. It’s just…it’s been a while since I dressed up.”

“Well you look fantastic,” I say, putting the finishing touches on my own makeup. “You’re going to turn heads at the bar tonight.”

“But when I turn them, do you think they’ll notice my, uhm, diaper?”

We had, briefly, considered letting her leave the house in just a pair of panties–though it was a mutual decision that we keep her in diapers. As much as I’d love to watch her soil her panties, it seemed like a bad idea to have it happen while out in public.

“They might,” I shrug. “I don’t think it’s too noticeable. But it gives your ass a nice plump shape–the kind of shape boys like to look at. If anyone looks too closely, who knows what they might notice.”

She blushes, but she doesn’t object to the plan. She’s made it consistently clear that for as much as she loves being a homebound pet, she also yearns to get out for a little bit. She’s nervous, but she’s also excited.

I haven’t told Philip about this little excursion yet, and I have no idea how he’d feel about it. I wonder if it even matters. Maybe, someday sooner than later, Luna will be just as much mine as she is his–and if I want to take my pet out for a walk, who could stop me?

“You smell delicious,” I whisper into her ear. She’s wearing a new fragrance I got for her at the store that smells of citrus–but it’s mingling with the scent of baby powder, and the result is surprisingly pleasant.

She blushes brightly. “Thank you.”

“Do you have an ID?” I ask. “You might look older in actual clothes–but you still look like a little girl.” I’m exaggerating. Slightly.

“Hm, yeah. I have one,” she says, nodding. She quickly rushes to another room, her dress billowing around her legs as she does. I’m not sure that I’ll ever get used to seeing her in clothing.

She returns a minute or two later, a very small black purse in her hands. I’m tempted to ask more about it, but I feel like I can guess what’s in there–small traces of her previous life. Her ID. A credit card or two, maybe. This, of course, makes me wonder what name I’d see if I looked at those cards–for the first time, it occurs to me that she probably wasn’t born with the name ‘Luna.’

I keep the question to myself. She can be whoever she wants to be now, and if she wants me to know more about who she was before, I'll let her tell me on her own time.

“You can put that in your diaper bag if you want,” I say.

“M-my…”

“It’s just a shoulder bag I picked up while shopping,” I shrug. “I doubt anyone else will see it as anything other than a purse. But you and I will know it has everything we need in case of an accident.”

“You think I’ll, uhm, need it?”

I nod. “Oh, absolutely. The way you go through diapers? It’s inevitable.”

I expect a little more resistance, but she nonchalantly shrugs, seeming to agree with me.

“Girl’s night out?” I ask–a final check to make sure we’re still on board with this plan. “Ready?”

She nods. “Let’s go.”

===

Prior to leaving the house, I had debated with myself on where I’d take Luna. I was tempted to take her to one of my usual haunts, but I was a little worried that in the worst case scenario–where Luna is somehow exposed as a diaper-wearer to the bar’s entire patronage–it would damage my own ability to return there later. But, going to a bar that was completely new to me didn’t seem like a much better idea–it seemed like a good thing to have some familiarity with the locale and the bathroom situation in advance.

Fuck it. I decide to take her to Pastel House, one of my most frequented bars on the eastside. It’s possible that we might run into someone I know there, but that doesn’t seem like a terrible thing. Luna, despite her diapers, isn’t some embarrassingly grotesque creature that I want to hide from anyone. Besides, if I’m more familiar with the environment, that’s just more attention I can pay to Luna.

The bar is hopping when we get there–not surprising for a Friday night. I’ve always found the Friday night crowd to be a little different from the Saturday night crowd, actually. The Friday-ers are a little more tired, and a little more interested in drinking. The Saturday-ers are more interested in loud socializing and dancing.

We find some seats at the end of the bar. I’m kind of hoping to hear the crinkle of Luna’s diaper under her dress when she takes a seat, but it’s far too loud for that.

She is, I realize, still wearing her collar. I’m so used to seeing it that it didn’t even occur to me until now. I wonder if she even knows it’s there.

“Hey, uhm, did you know that you’re still wearing your collar?”

“Am I?” Luna’s hands shoot up to her neck where she paws at the thin strip of fabric. Her cheeks turn bright red.

“If you want to take it off, I can hold it for you in the bag until we leave.”

“W-would it be weird if I leave it on?” she asks. The question surprises me.

“It’s your collar and your neck,” I shrug. “You can do whatever you want with it.”

“I think I’m going to leave it on,” she says. “It makes me feel safe.”

I’m not going to argue with that. It does look a little strange, I think, to see her in this cute cocktail dress and a belled collar, but it also kind of works for her. There’s something about her–I don’t know–aura that just seems right for it.

We order some cocktails–me a cosmo, and a vodka tonic for her. The bartender, predictably, asks us for IDs. We each reveal ours, the bartender nods and proceeds to make our drinks. I know I should probably leave it be, but I can’t help myself.

“So…any chance I could take a peek at your ID?” I ask.

She laughs, her cheeks getting a little pink. “Sure.” She slides it over to me.

Jamie Lynn Adler. Her hair is longer in the photo. Her skin, a little more tan. She also must’ve lost a little weight since this photo was taken. If Luna hadn’t handed me the ID herself, and I had just stumbled on the photo on my own, I likely wouldn’t have realized it was the same person.

“Wow,” I say, sliding it back to her.

“Is that good or bad?”

“Neither,” I shrug. “I just don’t know that person.”

“I don’t either,” Luna says, smiling as she slides the ID back into the bag.

For the next few minutes I just watch Luna as she watches the room. She looks fascinated by everything. We quietly sip at our drinks and just observe.

I spot a familiar face or two in the crowd. Jimmy Something-or-other is over by the pinball machine in the corner. We went out once or twice. Nice guy, but dumb as a rock. Curtis is at the other side of the bar, attempting to work his magic on a pair of girls who are clearly out of his league. I’ve never dated Curtis, but we’ve had some fantastic drunken conversations over the years. I’m hoping to avoid him tonight, as I’m worried about what I’ll say about Luna while intoxicated.

“Been a while since you were in a place like this?” I ask.

“Mmhmm. I haven’t been out like this for a while, even before I met Philip.”

“Did you miss it?”

“I didn’t think so,” she shrugs. “But this is nice.”

There’s another face I focus on, elsewhere at the bar. I don’t know him, but I can’t help but notice he’s staring directly at me. Or Luna, I can’t be sure which.

“Hungry eyes at 6 o’clock,” I whisper to Luna.

“He’s practically drooling,” Luna says.

“Is he cute? I can’t really tell.”

“Maybe,” she says, narrowing her eyes a little. “Not really my type.”

I’m tempted to ask what her type is, but I think I’d be disappointed with any answer that didn’t describe me.

“He’s getting up,” I say. “He’s coming over here.”

Luna’s reaction to this is to down the rest of her cocktail in what almost looks like a single gulp. I quickly flag down the bartender, asking for a new round–even though I don’t yet need one myself.

“How are you doing?” I ask. “Too nervous?”

“No,” she says.

“And your diaper?”

Her cheeks redden a little. “Damp? But it’s fine.”

I’d love to talk more about that. A conversation about her diaper, here at the bar, just sounds thrilling. It’ll probably have to wait for this guy to get through his spiel first.

“Ladies,” the guy says, approaching us. “Can I get you two a drink?”

“We’ve got more coming already,” I say. It comes off as a little more standoffish than I expect it to, but I don’t really regret that.

“Aye. Maybe the next round then,” he says, scratching his head. “I’m Brian. And you are…”

“Emma,” I say, offering a little wave.

Luna giggles. “Gemma.”

“Emma and Gemma?” Brian repeats. “What’re the odds of that?”

“We’re sisters,” Luna says.

“But not twins though, I assume?” he asks.

“We might be,” I say.

He laughs cautiously, seemingly unsure if we’re joking or not. I can read the guy like a book. He’s trying very hard, but he’s clearly outside of his comfort zone. He took a chance by talking to us. I commend his effort, but he might’ve chosen the wrong girls.

I decide that I want to take a chance, and I cross my figurative fingers that Luna plays along.

“We’re just kidding,” I say. “Actually, Gemma here is my pet.”

Luna’s cheeks immediately turn red, though she makes no effort to correct me.

“Sorry, what was that?” Brian asks. “It’s kind of loud in here, so I’m not sure I heard you correctly. It sounded like you just called her your pet.”

“That’s exactly what I said,” I nod, leaning forward a little to minimize the distance between Brian and I. I want him to hear me as best as he can. “See that little collar she’s wearing? She’s my kitten.”

He scratches his head again. “Cute,” he finally says. “Keep her on a leash, do you?”

“That’s actually a fun idea,” I say, glancing over to Luna. She flashes a little smile to me–an approval for the purchase of a leash later, I’m sure.

“You like that?” he asks Luna. “You like being her, uh, pet?”

“I do,” Luna answers. “She takes very good care of me.”

Brian laughs, a sort of: “Ho hooo.” The kind of laugh a guy offers when he’s been told something especially naughty. “I bet she does. I’d, uh, love to see that.”

“You think you would,” I tell him. “But I’m not sure you know what taking care of a little kitten entails.”

“She pretty needy?” he asks, laughing to himself.

“Sexually? Oh, for sure.” I find it easier to be blunt with him than I thought. It’s his genericness, I think. He’s nobody to me, and just as I’ve never seen him before tonight, I doubt I’ll ever see him again. He’s harmless. He’s a doofus. And, if nothing else, I don’t mind giving him a story that he’ll tell his unbelieving friends for the rest of his life. “But she has other needs too.”

Luna’s cheeks glow brighter.

Brian snorts. “Yeah? Like what?”

“Well…” I start.

But Luna wants to finish that thought for me: “I’m not housebroken.”

Brian squints a little, seemingly unsure of what to make of that. “Yeah? So you, like, piss all over the house or something?” It sounds like he’s trying to make a joke, but he’s at least slightly concerned that this is what we mean.

“Well, no,” Luna answers. “That’s what the diapers are for.”

I love her.

He laughs, a big laugh that suggests he just got the punchline of the joke. “Yeah, yeah. Good one.”

“No,” I say. “She’s serious. I have to keep the little thing in diapers 24/7 or else she’d be pissing all over the floor right now.”

Brian still looks skeptical. He still laughs like it’s a joke, though he seems a little less sure of it now.

Luna looks at me and shrugs. “It’s, uhm, happening right now.”

“What is?” I ask. “You’re…peeing?”

She nods.

Brian sighs and scratches his head again. If he still thinks it’s a joke, then he probably thinks it’s a joke that he doesn’t fully understand. He’s not laughing any more.

“Well?” I ask. “What are we going to do about that? Should I change you? Or…”

“N-no,” she says. “I think I’ll be okay for a little while yet.”

We could probably leave it at that and have successfully scared away poor Brian. But I don’t want him to walk away here thinking we were just pulling some sort of weird prank on him–I want him to know that everything we said was real.

“Brian,” I say, picking up the black shoulder bag and thrusting it into his unexpecting arms. “Can you hold this for a second?”

“Uh…sure.”

I unzip the top, reach down inside of it, and pull out a brand new diaper–still neatly folded. “Okay, good,” I say aloud to nobody in particular. “Just wanted to make sure I had some clean diapers on hand.”

“Oh,” he says, his eyes huge and mouth hanging open a little. “You were, uh, serious about the diapers…”

“I wouldn’t joke about a thing like that,” I say.

“Er, actually,” Luna says to me, biting her bottom lip a little. “I…well… Maybe I’ll need another diaper sooner than later.”

“Are you wetting yourself again already?”

She shakes her head.

“You’re… Luna, are you pooping your pants?” I say this a little louder than I want to, though I’m not sure if anyone around us hears it or not.

“I’m, uh, gonna let you two take care of that,” Brian says, handing the bag back to me. His cheeks are bright red, and he’s slowly stepping back away. “But maybe if I see you around later…” He doesn’t even bother finishing that statement before scurrying away.

Neither Luna or I say anything for a moment, though we share some smirks as we get back to our second round of cocktails.

“There’s no dirty diaper, is there?” I ask.

“Not yet,” she shrugs.

“That was fun,” I say.

“I thought so too.”

“So,” I say, swirling the alcohol in my glass around a little. “Tell me a little about who Jaime Lynn Adler was.”

Luna smiles, nods, and proceeds to tell me about the girl who would one day be Luna. In exchange, I share more about myself. More drinks are ordered. Across the bar, I occasionally catch the eyes of Brian, skeptically looking at us–clearly still unsure of whether or not we had been fucking with him.

“Do you think we can go soon?” Luna asks at one point.

“Of course. Reached your limit for being out of the house?”

She nods. “But also…”

“Your diaper?”

She nods again. “Not yet. But soon. It’s going to be a mess.”

“That’s okay,” I say to her. “Let’s go deal with it at home. Of course…I’m not going to be changing any diapers until you’ve made me cum.”

“That seems fair,” Luna says.

“More than once.”

“As many times as you want.”

I take her hand in mine and we leave the bar together. By the time we’re a block away, I’m squeezing her hand tightly, and I can feel tears welling in my eyes. I’d tell her how happy I am to have met her and Philip, but I’m hoping she already knows.