175.)

Blossom was quiet and introspective as she frosted the cupcakes. I didn't have to snap my fingers; she took orders automatically and behaved like a truly brainwashed maid. I took a lot of joy in the fact that making Blossom wet her diaper was what finally pushed her into the realm of pure obedience. Regardless, Blossom wasn't great at piping frosting, so the cupcakes weren't as pretty as they would have been if I had made them.

When she was done with the cupcakes, I had one for assessment. They were pretty good! Maybe a smidge too dry. I wondered if that was my fault or Blossom's. But I praised her all the same.

"You make such an excellent maid," I said sweetly, leaning on the counter and kicking my feet. "I think I'll keep you this way for a long time. Doesn't that sound nice?"

Blossom stiffened up for a moment, to show an air of pause and defiance, then, after a moment, nodded her head.

"Yes Miss Amanda."

The words "I'll keep you this way for a long time" resonated and bounced around in Blossom's head with infinite velocity and no friction. She felt like she was vibrating.

"Do I… have to wear this…?" Blossom asked, looking down at her outfit. She wanted to be told yes. She knew she was fishing. She was too turned on to care about the bluntness of her bait.

"Wear what?" I asked, taking a second bite of my cupcake. If Blossom was going to bait me, I would bait her right back.

"The… this… uniform…" But she was a maid, right? So of course she'd be wearing a uniform.

"It's just not a very common thing for a maid to wear, Miss Amanda. I could wear something really sexy for you, lots of frills and puffy skirts…?"

"I still have no idea what you're talking about," I shrugged. "All maids wear uniforms. This one seems to suit you just fine."

"I don't mind wearing my bra for you if that's your desire, Miss Amanda, I just didn't expect to be wearing a diaper. Or… or doing… this." Blossom Brixley could blush on command, and she sure did.

"Yes, of course you have to wear a diaper," I said. "It is part of your uniform, so that bathroom trips don't get in the way of doing your job. I thought maybe a shirt or a dress could be appropriate, but since you say you don't mind wearing nothing but a bra... well, I see no reason to change anything." The double meaning in that last sentence wasn't intentional, but I was glad I said it like that.

If the notion of a double-exclamation-point could be verbalized, then Blossom would have done just that at the realization that she'd given Amy more ammunition to use to keep her in diapers.

"N…n…"

She shook her head, as though she couldn't even say the word no, and balled up her fists to show resistance.

But her words didn't match the gesture: "Yes Miss Amanda…"

Blossom bit her lip and whispered out of character:

"Am I doing okay? Are you enjoying yourself? I want you to be having as much fun as I am, and I'm worried I'm just saying the same three words and it'll bore you."

"I think they are a good three words," I laughed a little, finishing my last bite of cupcake. "But I admit... I'm not really sure what to do now? Everything so far has been really fun, and I don't want to stop exactly. But this is where I'd chapter break in a story..."

"I think if you'd chapter break in a story in a moment, that's probably a good moment for cuddles and aftercare."

And it wasn't that Blossom didn't want more, but Amy had done a lot and it felt like the scene was as envelope-pushing as kink scenes ought to be.

"Right... do you want to change first, or..."

"I'm alright," Blossom shrugged.

Okay, I didn't think this through. I knew aftercare was a part of scenes like this, but Blossom was still wearing what I would probably call ageplay lingerie. Cuddling up to her like that felt really intimate.

But I was her partner, right? And it wasn't a sex thing. Aftercare was gentle. Relaxing. A return to normal. How hard could that be? So I got up off the stool and led Blossom to the couch.

Blossom did everything she could to empower Amy, and to give her all the feelings of confidence she deserved for a scene well done. She let herself be led, keeping hold of Amy's hand all the way there. When they got to the sofa, it was Blossom who sat first and prompted Amy to lay against her.

"You did so stinking good, cupcake. I'm so proud of you. You really stepped outside of your comfort zone here and did amazingly."

Maybe it caught Amy off guard, because aftercare was often portrayed as a "for the sub" thing, but this wasn't the first time Blossom demonstrated that aftercare went both ways.

"Thanks," I laughed a little, "but I'm really fine. This one wasn't like last time, or the Academy A roleplay we did." Both of those times, it ended with me in a much worse state than this. I wasn't actually in a bad state at all! On the contrary, I was feeling really good.

"What did you like about it?" Blossom asked.

"Uhh... hm. I think the snapping thing was nice. It made it easy to play with you, without getting too worked up on doing something right or wrong. Since everything I was saying or doing was supposed to be the right thing. Does that make sense?" Maybe this was why people were doms: so they could always do the right thing.

"Absolutely! And you were so creative with it too. I stumbled a bit, trying to figure out how to give you a hook to work with. And how I could make wetting myself look sexy. It's always objectively sexy when I see other people do it, but when it's me I get all worked up over it. But the snapping fingers? Gosh that was like… heady, it was like being high a bit. I got really into it."

"You seemed like it," I said. "I mean, you almost cried, and you did that little fluttery confusion thing when I gave you a new command. You're a really great actress."

"Practice, practice, practice," Blossom said. "And you're getting better with each scene too."

I nodded. I was definitely getting better with each scene, there was no doubt. But I really couldn't go anywhere else but up.

I checked the time on my phone. It was getting late. And I was laying with my head on Blossom's shoulder. I could see the diaper, forcing her thighs apart. I could see her bare stomach, and her belly button ring. I looked up at the ceiling instead.

"You know, I notice when you avert your eyes? It's okay for you to stare. It doesn't make me think you're a pervert or anything; it makes me feel like I'm attractive. So I implore you, girlfriend of mine, please feel free to stare. Sometimes there's nothing I'd love more than to know you're lost in a world in your head fueled by looking at me, you know?"

Blossom thought she was fuel, the way gasoline fueled a car or calories fueled the human body. She thought she could be used up, but she couldn't. If Blossom was a night's worth of oil, the lantern wouldn't burn for eight days; it would burn forever. Blossom was the kind of exponential growth that existed only in mathematical theories. She was the compression of time; she was gravity so strong even light couldn't escape it. If my imagination were the universe, Blossom in nothing but a diaper and a bra would be the solution to entropy.

Didn't Blossom understand that if I kept staring at her for too long, there's no way I'd ever be able to stop? And some part of me, locked away in my imagination, would get too big to stay inside my head? And I'd collapse like a dying star, taking the rest of this worthless planet with me?

"I've been staring at you a lot today," I said shyly, still looking up at the ceiling.

"And?" Blossom asked, playing with Amy's hair.

"And... it feels like I'm on the way to the best panic attack of my life. If that makes any sense."

"It absolutely makes sense in context. I'm beginning to understand how you think and feel about things. But I want you to be able to stare at me and fantasize; I want you to squeeze my hand when we're with company and whisper that you want to slip away to somewhere private with me, because you can't keep me off your mind. And then, in your magnificent authorial tone and with the words woven from the cloth of magic itself, I want you to detail the fantasy that drove you to needing me in that moment. That's what I'd like. And I know it sounds conceited, but I pinky promise that I fantasize about you a lot, cupcake."

I looked up at Blossom - at her face, not at her chest or her diaper - and leaned up to give her a little kiss. Just a small one. I knew she was right; there was nothing wrong with those feelings I had. And they weren't as dangerous as I thought they were. They just really felt that way.

"I'm glad you understand me sometimes," I said, "because sometimes I don't understand myself. I feel like it's hard to look at you dressed like this because it's so easy to look at you dressed like this."

"You're turned on," Blossom teased.

"I mean, obviously," I sighed, rolling my eyes. "But normal people just have sex. Why can't I just be a normal person sometimes? Why does sex have to freak me out so much?"

"All this baby stuff used to freak you out too. Last time I wet my diaper at your command, you nearly had a panic attack."

"So, you're saying I'm making progress?" It sure didn't feel like it.

"I'm definitely saying that; it's just hard for you to see it because you're inside of the house, so to speak. But I see it. I see you. And like, okay, flip the script. I don't think I've made any progress at all on my spheres, or on my relationship with Becky, or with trying not to make your Mom worry I'll freeze to death. But I bet you have a different view, right?"

"I guess you're right. It's easier to see on the outside." I sulked a little and looked up at the ceiling again.

"What would happen if I kissed you right now?" Blossom asked. "A real kiss. Or if I sat on top of you, dressed like this?"

"I'd explode," I said, jumping a thousand steps ahead.

"For real," Blossom urged, sitting herself up and forcing Amy to sit up too.

"I dunno... we'd kiss. I'd... touch you. And. I dunno. Do something stupid."

"Stupid?"

"Yeah, uh... do something I'm not ready for." I looked down at the sofa between us, picking at my fingertips.

"Well, what are you ready for?" Blossom asked.

"Kissing? Touching?" I didn't know how to quantify the stuff between gentle glances and vigorous diaper sex.

"What about the stuff that happened at the hotel?" Blossom suggested.

"No," I said firmly. "Not that. I'd have a panic attack."

"That's okay," Blossom said reassuringly. "You should have seen me behind the wheel of my car for the first time when my Dad was teaching me how to drive; I was a nervous mess. I cried a bunch, and I said I'd never be able to do it, not that day, not ever. And it was six more months before I tried again, and when I did, you know what happened? Nothing. It was fine. The point I guess is that it's okay if you're not ready, and I'll give you infinite chances to be ready, and I'll give you infinite patience when you're not."

And then, in a show of her own vulnerable humanity, Blossom added.

"Although if I'm honest, I really want to pin you down and climb on your lap and make out with you and pull your hair in a good way while I squirm in your lap."

"Yeah, that's not a good idea," I sighed, though my mind was already whirling with what a good idea it really was.

"Disagree," Blossom smirked. "If you're worried things will go too far, just set a line. I'll make sure we don't cross it."

"Even if I did that, I'd probably just change my mind in the moment and wind up freaking out. Then I'll yell at you like I did last time, at the hotel."

"Then I won't let you change your mind," Blossom said. "It's not good practice to negotiate in the middle of a scene anyway."

"I dunno," I sulked, pulling at my fingers. "I'm gonna do something wrong."

"It's okay to be scared of that happening," Blossom said, "but it's also okay to accept that it could happen, thank your brain for the heads up, and do the thing anyway with all the wisdom of your cautionary thoughts."

That was the answer an engineer would give. Blossom didn't regret it.

I wasn't entertaining her idea. Right? But she kept making good points. And a big part of me wanted her to be right. I wanted her to get her way, because it meant I got my way. But, it was like Blossom said... I was scared.

"I don't want to seem like a pervert," I mumbled, picking at the edges of my fingernails.

"I promise that you don't. But I also promise that it's okay to be a pervert. I know I'm a pervert sometimes and I know you don't think less of me for it. So that's all bases covered on that point, isn't it?"

"I do think less of you for it sometimes," I argued, shooting Blossom a look.

"But you still love me," Blossom grinned.

Yeah... I still loved her. I sighed. It was getting harder and harder to argue with her.

"When you date someone, when you're their girlfriend, their partner… you take stuff from them. And that's one of the best parts, I think. So let me give you a little of my sexual confidence. Just one spoonful at a time, and only one baby step out of your comfort zone."

"Ugh... fine." I couldn't believe I was agreeing to this. A thousand alarm bells went off in my head. But somehow, Blossom was louder. Or maybe it was Blossom in nothing but a bra and a diaper that was louder. Either way...

"Can I pretend to be someone else?" I asked out of nowhere. Because in the half second since I agreed to this whole thing, my anxiety had multiplied by a factor of ten.

"I'm noticing a pattern," Blossom laughed a little.

Was it a pattern? Roleplays always felt easier when I could be someone else. An Academy student, or a rich woman hiring a maid. The one time things felt personal - two weekends ago, when we did our high school bully roleplay - I was on the brink of an anxiety attack the entire time. I never noticed before...

"I think that the fact you said yes means that you can be anybody you want. These training wheels are good for learning, but in full disclosure… my goal is to help you reach a point where you're comfortable being my Amy, okay? Is that fair?"

Maybe not coincidentally, Blossom was crinkling the plastic of her diaper leg gathers when she spoke.

"Yeah, I guess that's fair..."

Maybe I should talk to Stephanie about all this. It seemed like a good therapy topic.

"So who am I supposed to be?" I asked. "I don't think we can continue the other scene... it's not very in character." Not after I spent most of it telling Blossom how a maid is supposed to make cupcakes, not flirt with her employer.

"Well, I was just the bratty maid you conditioned. We can either try and work within that world space or we can pivot to something different. Like maybe you're the same person, and I'm your dominant girlfriend who keeps telling you not to toy with the maids? Or something. You're the writer, I'm just the horny girl."

The dominant girlfriend who says not to toy with the maids? I'd read that story. It was a good role reversal after everything we just did. Except...

"Except you're in a diaper. That's not very dominant."

"Oh? A diaper isn't very dominant? I don't know about you, cupcake, but I think the idea of being dominated by a girl in a diaper is very subby. Like, she's in a diaper and she's still in charge of you. Padded caregivers is something we don't explore enough in stories or art I think."

Blossom was right; I'd never written a padded caregiver before. I wondered if Maria ever wore diapers... actually, she probably had. She was an overachiever when it came to research, and the more she knew about diapers the more she could torment her charges. It was just practical.

As for me, I never really thought about a Mommy or a Daddy or someone like that in a diaper. In my fantasies, I was always the one being diapered. I wasn't sure how much merit there was in Blossom's plan, but I had to admit... she was sexy in just a diaper and a bra.

"We can try it, I guess?"

"Oh, cupcake. We're gonna have such good fun with this!"