7.) Pretty in Pink

"Absolutely not," I said flatly, crossing my arms over my chest. They were so adorable. They were perfect! Pink - Mommy's favorite color - with little hearts and crowns. I wanted them so badly... and I said no. This had been a trend the past few days. No, I wouldn't wear that dress. No, I wouldn't wear those shoes. No, I wasn't going to wear my hair in pigtails. But Mommy always got her way one way or another. Why was I hoping to lose? If I wanted to lose so badly, why fight at all?

'Then you don't get them' would have been the first response I gave her, if she were anybody else - and anybody else would have buckled at that. Pippy probably would have, too. But she didn't want that, she wanted to lose. She wanted to have her control taken. The two of us were in her bed, looking up pretty clothes on her iPad, but when I slipped my hand up her skirt she almost dropped the tablet. "Didn’t you try to say 'no' to this diaper, too? And how did that work out?” Our dynamic had shifted in the past few days. Not equals, but different. Almost relationship-like.

I shivered at her touch and looked away. My cheeks were hot. Damn, I gave her too much too soon. If I didn't do a better job, I'd lose this argument too. But I wanted to lose, right? But I wanted to fight. "I don't need them."

"Don't be silly. You leak after six hours in those ones."

"Well, I'll change more frequently. And I don't remember asking for your input." There we go, escalating the situation. Now she didn't have a choice. The war was waged.

"Oh, you'll change more often? Then there's no reason to resist taking the next step.” I didn't need to tell her what the next step to immaturity was, I didn't need to tell her what 'do more in your diaper' meant. She was a clever girl. I’d seen her watching videos online the other day of girls messing their diapers, as she traced her fingers up her thighs in eager anticipation. I pushed her to her back and sat myself on top her, kissing her lips and running my fingers over the throbbing little punctures on her neck. I wouldn't drink from her though, not yet - being fed upon had become my reward for her.

Her kisses tasted like sugar. Her fingertips brought to life every nerve beneath my skin. In half a moment, I felt like putty in her hands. She could mold me. She could shape me. I had to shake off the feeling. If I kept slipping like this, she'd win too quickly. I used all my strength to shove her off me and sat up on the bed. "I'm not like your other thralls." A few days ago she slipped up and mentioned one of them. At first I was insecure. Actually, I was still insecure. But Bailey spent every night with me - not them. And why? Because I gave her something they couldn't. It gave me power over her.

"That's true, you're not ~ if you were, you'd have pleased me by now." There was an intoxicating level of push and pull, of back and forth, that her ability to stand back up after I'd broken her down meant. The thrill of the chase never dulled out. But she was a thrall deep down, and that lingering sense of being owned didn't just go away. She could play me, but I could also play her much better.

Pleased her? I hesitated, looking up at Bailey as she walked around the room, running her fingers over the top of my dresser, along the closet door, and then returning to me. My skin tingled. I wanted her touch... but those thoughts weren't helping. Comparing me to those other thralls wasn't helping. I tried to shake that thought off too, but it was a lot stickier. "Well... I'm not wearing this anyway," I said again, touching the pink diaper on the bed beside me. Gosh, it was thick. My head swam with ideas...

"That's fine, I can think of someone else much more deserving." Her face faltered, and I threw her a bone instead of sinking her deeper. "I could put my pretty kiss on Meg's neck; she's not half the fighter you are, is she? She'd fall to thralldom so quickly... she'd beg for the pretty pink diaper between her legs, she's so...fiercely competitive, she'd succumb faster than anybody ever had." I knew full well the comparison would hurt, but a hypothetical would hurt less than if I'd named an actual thrall I already had. This game went both ways.

I pouted and crossed my arms over my chest. The childish mannerisms were second nature now, as was calling Bailey Mommy. I had no conscious realization until after the fact. "Meg's a brat."

"You're a brat," she smirked.

I stuck out my tongue. "I'm not wearing that stupid--" puffy, adorable, thick, gorgeous, pink, dreamy "--diaper just to make you happy. I don't need it."

"That's true.” I smiled down at her, touching one finger to her chin as if cultivating a thought in her. “You don't need it, you want it. You want to need it. And isn't that so much worse?" I queried wistfully, and let go of her face to move my hand down her neck instead. "You're thinking about it right now, I bet. You're thinking about... your senses. How pretty it looks... how thick it feels... how it's going to sound when everybody hears you crinkling... you're thinking about the scents you'll make just for me, and how I'm going to taste your boiling blood as reward for you behaving so well…”

Her words were like liquor over my rationality. They fed me like my blood fed her. She kissed me on the lips and put her teeth to my neck. Warm feelings. Warm thoughts. Mommy and me. Together. Time ticked by as I daydreamed about us. As her lips whispered ideas in my head. As her teeth sunk into my neck. Before I knew it, the sky outside was a thick inky blue. Sunrise was only half an hour away. A huge dark circle had appeared under my bottom, leaking through the diaper. I looked up at Bailey with confusion as I tried to focus in on reality. What did she just... do...?

"My little thrall, so convinced she could stand that she never considered how much she adored to kneel, to lay, to surrender.” The sun was coming, and that meant I'd be going. Her resistance was intoxicating, but too much alcohol without enough water made for a rough morning - I had no choice but to do what I did to her. Like always, her fingers touched at the pretty little wounds, little spots that would be permanent soon, looking like a little tattoo to the casual eye and opening for the delicious pierce of my fangs when I wanted them to. A mark. My mark. "I wonder, is my little thrall ready yet to need? The sun comes, and solitude follows~"

I looked down shyly at the wet sheets. I had a mattress protector of course; if not for the constant bedwetting then certainly for the many blood stains. I'd switched to red sheets last week for moments just like this. My nightgown was stained with blood. I used to hate the sight of it. Now... now it reminded me what Mommy did to me. I shook my head but the thoughts wouldn't leave. I had leaked... "I... I don't need..." But I did need. I needed that new diaper. Thicker. Safer. Oh, I couldn't focus...

"Your diapers are what keep you safe when I'm not around, and you're about to face a new day, a new sunrise, and your protection has failed you. But you don't want a new protector, do you?" I'd gotten up from her bed. I had the new pink diapers under my arm, and I was very ready to leave with them. "These are for little girls who need them, who want them, who crave and dream to take the next step for Mommy..."

"W-wait!" She stood by the doorway, holding the package of pink diapers. I stumbled to my feet and almost fell over. My legs felt wobbly and my knees were unsure if they wanted to buckle. I looked shyly up at Mommy and played with my fingers in front of me. My nightgown was soaked through... "Please Mommy... I... I need them..." I knew what this meant. I knew that she would expect more of me from now on. Ugh, the thought was so disgusting...

"You need them? And what do you need them for, little doll?" I squinted at the window, gestured with my hand. "And I hope you're quick to answer; no thinking, no pausing, no playing, because before you know it I'll be gone until the night comes again."

"For... for everything," I muttered, looking sheepishly at my feet. I knew what was coming next.

"Then you're committing to diapers now, full time?"

I remembered those videos of those girls... even then, I felt so humiliated for them. I couldn't imagine... but if Mommy left with those pink diapers, I'd feel unsafe all day. I didn't want that. She won this game, like she always did. "Yes Mommy..."

I changed her. I didn't have much time, but I made the time to do it; I replaced her soaked, soggy, leaky diaper with the new sensations of the thicker pink ones I'd brought for her. As the sun began to rise now, and I prepared to fade, I whispered in her ear: "I change you from now on. Only I do. Only I can." And for all her brattiness, she'd find that to be true - even if, for a while, she didn't believe it. A moment later, I disappeared and left her to her day.