157.)

"How was therapy, cupcake?"

It always felt like a weird question to ask "how was therapy?", since therapy was supposed to be so personal. It almost felt like asking "how are you doing?", knowing you wouldn't get a real answer. But Blossom did want an answer, because Amy had bandaids on her fingers. That was like a red flag salesman walking the stands of a football game. Without waiting for her answer, Blossom began to pull the car out of the parking lot of the therapist's office and back into the street.

"Therapy was... weird," I admitted. In part because our conversations were scattered. But also... "It's still awkward talking about baby things? She's so nonchalant about it."

"Hey, you being able to talk about that stuff at all is pretty wicked if you want my opinion. But I'm sure that she's probably heard things a lot more left-of-center. Baby stuff is, all things considered, pretty cute and harmless in the grand scheme of things, isn't it?"

"I guess so." Stephanie knew a few things about ageplay, but it did seem like I was her primary source of information.

"So your anxiety has been bad lately?" Blossom finally asked, unable to keep it to herself any longer.

"I'm surprised you made it until now before asking," I teased. But I was still playing with the bubble popper in my bandaged hands. "It's just writing stuff," I sighed. "I'll figure it out..."

"You know, your partner isn't a writer, but she sure does love your writing. Maybe you could try talking to her about it?"

"I don't want to spoil anything," I said with a bit of resignation. "If I start waxing poetic about all my Academy Works plans, you're going to know too much about the story. You won't get a real reader experience." And I wouldn't get to see that awe and admiration on her face when she read a new chapter.

"Well, that's true, but sometimes isn't the conversion rate of 'Blossom's Happiness' vs 'Amy's Mental Health' worth the trade?"

"No, not at all." I spoke very plainly, with no room for argument. When it came to Blossom's Happiness, exchange rates be damned. I'd put all my savings into that, and if the currency were ever devalued, I'd have no regrets.

"Well, I stand corrected."

Blossom faked a laugh and tried to think of some way - any way - she could engage Amy in a way that might actually be helpful to her. It wasn't easy.

"Maybe I should find you someone who's never read your stuff, and get him or her or them to sit down and help you out?"

Oh hey Becks, yeah, read this babysmut story that I relentlessly get off to; don't worry, you'll learn to like it!

"I tried talking with Stephanie about it a little bit," I admitted.

"Did she have any wise words of wisdom?" Blossom asked.

"Sort of..." Talk to Blossom. Blossom also had those same words of wisdom. Maybe I couldn't talk about Academy Works, but I could talk about something tangential. So I said:

"Hey, I know you're not like. A caregiver. But you like babying me, don't you?"

"Absolutely!"

Not an ounce of hesitation.

"Don't get me wrong, I like it just as much when you baby me, and when we kind of do it together, but like…yeah, I mean, I love it. Why's that?"

"I don't know... I was just wondering." I kept popping the little rubber bubbles in my hands. "Like, I babied you... once. I guess. It was fine. And you were really cute. But I guess... maybe I don't see what people get out of it?" That probably fed into why I always felt like it was a burden to be Little.

"Hmm. Well, let's see, how to quantify…"

It was a good thing that Blossom was an excellent multitasker, because going down this thought experiment rabbit hole while driving was no easy feat.

"One part is definitely the 'service' part, like, wanting to make someone you love feel nice and loved. But another part is fulfillment. Like, knowing I could give that gift to you. It's like when you get to sit back and see what you made, or what you did, and you get to be proud of that."

"I get the service part, I guess..." I mean, I cooked dinner for Blossom sometimes. I baked for her a lot, though that wasn't quite the same. I made her that bracelet. It felt good to be useful, to make others happy. It felt good to have some extrinsic worth, an effect on the world. It felt good to do good.

"I don't think I get the other stuff though," I admitted. "The fulfillment part."

"Hmm. Okay. So it's like, look at actual parents: if they got nothing out of that, then there'd be no more human race, right? I like the way it feels for you to need me, and for my actions to matter. To have that much influence over your happiness."

"Like, a sense of purpose or something?" I asked.

Blossom nodded quickly.

"But, like... we're just pretending. You don't really have control or influence or anything. So why does it count?"

"Sure, the scene or the moment is 'pretend', but there's more to it, isn't there? Because if I make you feel good, you still feel good and if I screw up, you still feel bad. So the fulfillment, the sense of purpose, it's still real. Changing you is still actually changing you, you know?"

"Hm... I guess..." A sense of purpose. Fulfillment. Hm...

"Plus, like. It's sexy? So..." Blossom was a little flippant with that comment.

"I didn't find it that sexy when I was babying you," I shrugged.

"What about when you told me to wet my diaper like a Candy in Academy A?" Blossom teased. "Or when you teased me in the hotel room last week?"

I blushed a bit. "Well, that was more like dom stuff, not caregiving…"

"I've played with other doms," Blossom said knowingly. "They are caregivers. Maybe not in name, but they have to really look out for a sub. There's a lot of vulnerability in that kind of play, and a dom has to always be conscientious of a sub's wellbeing."

"Hm... I guess..." I sunk down in my seat and tried to math it out. I hadn't really topped Blossom before. The one time, when she wet herself, but I didn't do much. Most of the time our play was synchronous; going through a scene together and inventing some invisible force of "dominance". If domming was a little bit caregiving, was I avoiding that role on purpose?

"Nothing is ever just one thing or another," Blossom said. "It's like we think of diapers as being pretty baby, right? But I could wear a diaper and still dom you, still top you, still caregiver you… because nothing is ever just one thing."

"True..." I thought about the few scenes I'd done with Blossom where I had the upper hand. Like the thing at the hotel. I wasn't exactly in charge, but I controlled the narrative. Well, I mean, we kind of built it together. But I did most of the foundational work. And I did like seeing her in a diaper...

"What is all this about, cupcake?" Blossom asked.

"Oh, uh..." Originally it was about Academy Works. Now, I was thinking about our relationship. Was I doing enough for Blossom? She really brought out a lot of Little feelings in me sometimes, like after the spanking scene. But I never spanked her. I never bossed her around.

"Amy?" Blossom prompted.

"Sorry. I just..." My instinct was to hand wave the whole thing. But I didn't. "Should I be doing more caregiver stuff? Like, I want you to be able to feel Little sometimes..."

"I want you to do what you feel comfortable doing, buuuut I know that in the context of this topic, that feels like a bit of a cop-out answer, right?"

Blossom was getting good at anticipating Amy.

"Objectively, yes, I do want to feel Little sometimes, that's true. My switchy energy in this regard is pretty symmetrical, pretty 50/50. But if we're skewing more towards 60/40 or whatever, it's not the end of the world."

It was never hard for Blossom to advocate for herself. She was a damn good sub, and when she wanted dominant energy from others she was good at asking for it. But… admittedly, she did handle Amy with kid gloves a lot. No pun intended.

"Well, maybe I should try doing that more? I always felt like there wasn't much in it for me... and even the one time I babied you, it felt a little hollow." Not that it was Blossom's fault - I was struggling to see her as Blossom most of the time.

"If you'd like," Blossom shrugged. "But remember, I'm not Little like you."

"Right..." I usually forgot that Blossom and I didn't see diapers and baby stuff the same way. She liked diapers aesthetically, as well as what they represented. And usually Blossom's Littleness fell into a more submissive category than a need to be coddled and babied.

"Although I do wonder…" Blossom flicked on her blinker, and pursed her lips. "Do you think you'd be more willing to take charge if I was more like you? If I was more Little and less submissive?"

"No, not really. I think it's probably the opposite..." I wasn't sure how to explain it to Blossom. I wasn't even sure how to explain it to myself. But I tried anyway.

"I know I'm a brat sometimes. But even when I'm not, I'm like... always on edge about something. And I hate my body. And I hate my brain. And taking care of me... it's a lot of work. When I think about having to do that for someone else..."

"So the fact that I'm different from you is a good thing?" Blossom asked.

"Yeah. But either way, I'm still worried I'll do a bad job. I don't even know the criteria, and I still think I'll fail at it."

"Criteria?" Blossom asked.

"Yeah, like. What I'm supposed to do. What's the right way to baby you? I just think about how I'd suck at meeting my own criteria. And it stresses me out..."

"Well thankfully, you don't have to just guess blindly. I'll tell you what I like when we're doing it, or I can answer any questions you might have. And you're a great writer, which is bound to help."

"I'm good at making up scenes," I corrected her. "Not acting in them."

She was right though. If I wanted to know how to baby her, I just had to ask. But…

"What if you tell me what you want and I know I can't do it?" I mumbled. "It's like Schrödinger's cat. Until I open the box, I can't screw it up. If I never start, I never have to fail."

"Or succeed," Blossom offered.

"Failing is infinitely more likely," I teased. But Blossom gave me a look. That "don't be mean to yourself" look. So I added: "Sorry."

"Schrödinger's cat is stupid anyway because it presumes that only humans can be observers; the cat is an observer of itself at all times so the thought experiment doesn't work."

Thanks, Engineer Blossom!

"I am remarkably easy to please and very communicative. It's gonna be easy-mode for you, cupcake."

I guess Blossom had a point. I was assuming I was the only observer of babying Blossom, but she was the subject. Whether I succeeded or failed, it affected her too. I never thought about the cat before...

"So..." I popped a whole row of rubber bubbles before finishing the sentence. "What, uh... do you like, when... you know. How do I do it right?"

"Well, let's see. You know I like the aesthetics." Blossom talked about this like she was describing a paper she'd write for school; she really was confident. "You know I think diapers are cute. And the outfits, and the binkies, and the everything. But also, I love a little humiliation. I love being told 'well you've crossed a point of no return' or 'you can't come back from this' or 'this is how things are going to be from now on'. I love a little bit of like... consensually gaslighting? Like, being told how I really wanted this, or whatever. And I love being pushed. I love being made to do new things, especially if it's with a person I love because then I associate it with them."

"Uh..." I felt my face get hot just listening to Blossom rattle off her criteria. The part about "crossing a point of no return" and "how things are going to be" really hit home for me. Consensual gaslighting wasn't a term I'd ever heard before, but wow if it wasn't a sexy concept. Or, I guess, it would be if it were happening to me. Would I be able to do that stuff with Blossom?

"You okay there, cupcake?" Blossom laughed.

"Y-yeah... yeah, um. That doesn't sound too hard, I don't think. Dress you up, tease you. But... I'm worried I'll get bored? Caregiving sounds boring..."

"You think you'll get bored having a girl that you can enact all your wildest babygirl fantasies on? That you can try out things you might want to write about in stories? You just gotta let yourself enjoy it. Make me everything you want a baby girl to be. Shape me, train me, mess me up. Make it so I can't ever be an adult again. I'm your canvas."

That did sound less boring. It was a lot more fun than just doting on her for a whole evening, at least. But I never really wanted a baby girl. I never had fantasies about making someone else Little. Maybe this was why I was having trouble writing Maria.

"I like the idea of you being a canvas for me, but what if I find out I don't like painting? I mean, the canvas is the one that gets to be pretty in the end..."

"Here's the thing about art, cupcake: it means what you want it to mean. You draw a square and say it's a square, then it's a square. But you draw the same square and say it's 'a metaphor for the recurrent nature of the human condition in late-stage capitalism' and that's what it is. You make me anything you want to make me, and I'll love it because you made me love it."

"I never liked art very much," I sulked. I knew Blossom was trying to make me feel better, like this was easy, but giving someone a canvas and two dozen paints and saying "do anything, it'll be great" wasn't exactly the best advice for someone like me. I envied her flippancy.

"Okay. Then write me, like you write a character. Write the girl who was a bully in high school but secretly? After school? The quiet girl that people never suspected? She's in charge. She owns the popular cheerleader; she toys with her, and punishes her, and trains her, and makes her into her lil' secret baby girl. Sending her to school in diapers, always threatening to tell everyone her little secret. Nobody would believe that the quiet bookish girl had manipulated her, after all. They'd all think this was the popular girl's dirty little secret."

"You sound like you rehearsed that," I laughed a little.

"It's come up once or twice in my daydreams," Blossom smiled.

"Writing, huh...?" I did like to write, and I never got to experience any of those things that happened to Ai or Bala or Talita. There was definitely some self-inserting, like imagining myself in those situations. But I was their god, so to speak. I put them in those positions for my amusement, like dolls in a plastic house. And I got a lot of joy out of that. Why?

The technical side, no doubt. A demonstration that I was good at something: stringing words together in the right way. But if I was only in it for the technical stuff, I could have written about anything. I could have written an actual book, instead of ABDL smut. It wasn't all wish fulfillment. It wasn't just to self-insert. I'd never want to endure half the things those girls went through...

What was so special about writing? And why ABDL stuff? Because... when my fingers were on that keyboard, I never really knew what was going to happen next. I had ideas, sure. I had direction and plot points to hit. But what would the next word be? What analogy would I use? What profound nonsense would spill into my word processor?

Those characters... I made those. I created real, likable, believable people. And I loved them.

I loved Blossom too. I could make her real, likable, and believable.

"Okay," I relented. "I'm in."

Blossom beamed brightly, brighter than the car's headlights. For Amy to actually take that step, even if it was just saying it? That was progress. She wished she could distill the pride she felt and feed it to Amy, but she would have to settle for two word instead:

"Good girl!"