Saturday October, 22nd

30.)

I spent a few hours working on Academy Works. Chapter Eight was coming together. I didn't have any other diapers, so I sucked on my pacifier instead. I wrote better when I was feeling kind of baby.

Eventually, I hit a wall. The sky outside was a dark blue. The sun would be up soon. So I decided to get out of bed and go make breakfast.

"You're up bright and early, Mia Moore."

Blossom was in a pink silk babydoll nightgown when she wandered into the kitchen, yawning, and still clearly wearing the diaper from the day before. She rubbed her eyes and yawned again, sitting up on the stool on the other side of the counter.

"Couldn't sleep." I had been baking for most of the morning. I made blueberry scones, which were a lot better than the scones I made the week before. I actually had ingredients! But more importantly, I made some bread dough and some pie dough and put them in the fridge for later. The biggest problem with baking anything is waiting for dough to proof. Too much down time. That was why I usually made sweets, and maybe why I'm fat.

"And could you not sleep because you're anxious about something?"

This routine was becoming somewhat familiar to Blossom, and while her usual instinct when things got tough and complicated with people was to cut and run, she was determined to do right by this girl. At the very least, Blossom wanted to prove she could be a good friend.

"Oh, I'm not that anxious. I just can't sleep sometimes. I've always been like this." I pushed the plate of blueberry scones across the table. I only made six this time, which was a normal human amount of scones. Only five were left on the plate.

"This must be why you're so good at baking - and you know I've loved everything you've ever fed me~" Blossom took one of the blueberry scones and took a bite of it, grinning happily as she chewed and swallowed. "You're a creator; you make worlds where people are babies, and you make desserts for breakfast. You're basically the perfect person to control the universe, in my opinion."

"Ha. I can barely control myself, let alone the universe. And besides, if I'm all-powerful, how is someone else supposed to turn me into a baby against my will?" In the immortal words of Robin Williams: "phenomenal cosmic power, nobody can dom me". There's always a trade-off.

"Oh you don't know it, but your handmaiden, Blossom, has been drugging your baking supplies so every time you bake something you get more and more baby and fall more and more under her whims and control. And by the time you realize it..." Blossom reached across and booped Amanda on the nose, "it's far too late."

"Yeah, that's about the writing quality of your average ABDL story." It was a stupid idea, but... well, I'd probably read that story. If all our fantasies had to make sense, Academy Works wouldn't be very popular. I blushed just a little and started cleaning up the kitchen. My pajamas were covered in flour. I wondered if Blossom would mind if I did some laundry.

"Hey, if I can match the average off the top of my head, your writing must be rubbing off on me." She took another bite of her scone. "Which is ironic because usually I'm the one rubbing one off to your writing."

Comments like that still threw me for a loop. I think if a boy said it as often as she did, I might have been more perturbed. But it felt different with Blossom. I think because it meant I had power over her. Maybe not directly, but I was the one that made her feel and do things. It was a lot like when she would bully me, but... maybe the opposite? I made her feel nice things, just like she'd made me feel bad ones. I guess I just never thought I'd have any say over how she was feeling. I never thought I'd be here with her.

I finished tidying the kitchen and warned Blossom against touching the dough in the fridge. Then I had to explain the whole proofing process to her.

"So you made dough so you could make stuff later?" Blossom asked.

"Pretty much," I said. "I know I'll want to bake again sooner or later, and making one difficult thing - like a pie - takes as much focus as making a thousand cookies. So it's... economical."

"So does the dough just... hang out? Is that okay? I grew up with Dad telling me that leftovers would give me food poisoning and it wasn't until I got to college that I kind of outgrew those fears." Which was a funny little admission, honestly, because that was a pretty childish perspective to have.

"It usually keeps in the fridge for like, two days," I said. "And you can freeze it for a couple months. But I don't usually go two days without baking."

"I'm gonna go shower and get dressed for the day - we have a big adventure ahead! Are you excited? I'm pretty excited."

"Excited? Not really. But I'm excited to be home with our bounty." I was weaving into her adventure metaphor. "I should get cleaned up too. Can I use your washing machine? I want to wash my pajamas."

"You sure can. The wash pods are in the cupboard above the washer - it's a combo unit so just push the start button and it'll wash and dry. It's pretty fancy, but my uncle wouldn't shut up about it for like three years after he got it. And then there was a while he'd go to friends' places and go to their laundry rooms and click his tongue and shake his head and be like," she put on a mocking deep voice for this, "oh, still using separate units, I see. How quaint."

"I didn't even know that existed... though I guess it makes sense. I always forget to move my clothes into the dryer."

Blossom took a second scone with her and went to change. The beachhouse had three bathrooms but the only shower was upstairs; I had to change in the downstairs bathroom instead. I ran my fingers through my hair and tried to make myself look presentable. I even brought a nice shirt with me this weekend, a blouse my mom got me at a thrift store. I thought it would make me look like a business woman, but with my glasses it was a little more like a high school uniform at a really liberal prep school.

Getting ready for Blossom Brixley was not a quick affair. She showered, which took her a good half an hour by the time she was done washing herself up and down, and shampooing and conditioning her long blonde hair. Then when she got out of the shower, she spent another half an hour blow drying and doing initial styling on her hair. Then she got dressed. Then she did her makeup. Then she finished her hair. All in all, her morning routine took over two hours for her to go from bedheaded-gremlin-in-a-diaper to being the college knockout that everyone wanted to sleep with.

She wore denim cutoff shorts with fishnets underneath, a chunky black belt with a large buckle, and a black top with long white and black striped sleeves with the words 'sad, lonely, and bad at math' written in a simple font across her boobs. She finished the look with a 90s style mesh choker and six or seven silver necklaces in various styles and lengths.

"Sorry to keep you waiting," she apologized, pulling on her checkered flats and checking her makeup in the mirror by the front door.

Waiting was an understatement. I had been playing on my phone for two hours, texting Lin and checking Twitter. But when I saw her, I realized why.

"Wow..." Oh, that was a cliche thing to say, like when a girl comes down the stairs in a movie and the guy is waiting at the bottom. That dumb speechless expression. Did I have that expression? So I overcorrected with: "You know it's like forty-five degrees out, right?"

"All cute girls are perpetually cold, didn't you know? And I'm pretty damn cute, like at least a 9/10, so I'm freezing all the time."

That was about the most backwards answer anyone could have given, but Blossom enjoyed the perplexed look on Amanda's face. Honestly, she enjoyed the expression of amazement when she walked in the room too. Maybe she was dolled up a little more than she might usually have been for going shopping. Then again, this was a pretty standard Blossom level of effort.

"Let's go navigate the waters of capitalism, dodge all the other culturally deprived white girls, and find our buried steamer chest so we can protect our booty bounty. Or something. I don't know. Don't at me."

I rolled my eyes. Sometimes I felt like I had Blossom figured out. Then other times... I dunno. She was a really complicated woman.