Saturday, October 29th
41.)
I always slept better in diapers; that was just a fact. I woke up after the sun and went to the bathroom. I hated wasting diapers, but I didn't want to wet myself just to change a second later. It didn't make sense. And I wasn't going to head downstairs in a wet diaper either. The trash bag in the bathroom was still empty; Blossom hadn't changed yet.
I thought about putting another diaper on, but ultimately my embarrassment won out. Some things seemed so much easier to do at night; daytime brought an uncomfortable amount of clarity. Every time I fell into a shame spiral, it was always in the morning.
For once, I didn't make breakfast. When Blossom came out of her room an hour or so later, I was sitting on the couch in the wave room typing away on my laptop.
Chapter Eight.
I was writing about gym class. What kind of sports would kids in diapers do? Gymnastics or something? I always hated gym class when I was a kid, so I decided to draw on some inspiration from anime.
Blossom sat down, straddling the arm of the sofa and positioning herself in such a way that she couldn't see the screen of Amanda's laptop. Her black diaper was very visible under her nightie, which was both riding up her thighs, and woefully under-equipped to hide her boobs.
"Hey look at you! Up before me and you're not baking. You know what that means, right?"
"No?" I said, trying not to get too distracted from what I was doing. That was a hard thing to manage when a slutty cheerleader in a diaper was sitting at the other end of the couch. "Also, I'm always up before you."
"Oh that's true, but you're usually baking delicious baked goods. And the fact that you're not this time means we can order breakfast in. Or we can go out to a diner if you want, but I'm pro ordering-in."
"I bet you are," I teased, nodding to her outfit. The longer we stayed in, the longer she could go without changing. Then again, she didn't seem at all perturbed to have her diaper on full display. "Yeah, order in. I'm writing right now anyway."
Blossom's eyes lit up. Always a tactical creature, Blossom got to ordering on her phone and nonchalantly began to probe.
"Sooo, how is the writing going?" she extended out the -ing sounds on those two words to sound more casual.
"Good. Slow, but good." Writing always felt slow nowadays. I remembered when I started Academy Works, I wrote the first story in like two days. Now it took me a week to get through a single chapter. I had a huge fear of burning out before I finished the series, but I was a completionist in both video games and real life.
"I think all good things take time," Blossom said, "but you're also balancing a whole bunch of different threads and plots and connective things. So the longer the story goes on, the longer it'll take to write new chapters I think.."
Blossom did have her aesthetic of "airhead cheerleader", but she was also pretty brilliant. She just didn't let people see that too often.
"You aren't wrong." Though I'd probably have to start actually tying those threads together sooner or later. In the chess game of Academy Works, I had only just finished setting the pieces on the board. Pawn to E4.
Blossom started her order, a full spread of traditional Japanese breakfast foods: miso, rice, those cute layered rolled omelets, various pickled vegetables, teas, the whole spread. She was excited, honestly - she'd liked Japanese culture a lot before she blossomed into her high-school self, and didn't often get the chance to indulge it nowadays.
"What's your favorite part of what you've written in this book so far, Amy?"
"Um... from a technical perspective? I liked talking about Aya's affiliation with fire a lot. I always do a lot of research about the protagonists before I start writing, and the Native American stuff has been my favorite."
"That's true," Blossom said. "You have a lot of diversity in your stories."
"Well, my best friend is Chinese. She complains a lot about representation and stuff. When I started thinking about it, I realized that a lot of ABDL protagonists are white. Not just white, but with blonde hair and blue eyes too. Like, that's our model of "childish", you know? And a lot of people can't identify with that. Hell, even I can't identify with that."
"Oooh, yeah, you make a good point," Blossom agreed. "We attribute innocence and childishness to be like... that one aesthetic. But I'm not even a natural blonde, so I wonder why that never occurred to me before? I wonder if it's like... we just accept these norms because the author prescribes them. In which case, the diversity in your stories is going to help a lot of readers accept that this one cookie-cutter-concept of childishness isn't the only way, right?"
"Mmhmm. I don't really do physical descriptions either. Like, how tall is Ai? How big are Bala's boobs? I always hate when I'm reading a story and the protag is four-eleven with D cup breasts or something. It makes it a lot harder to self-insert." I would have made for a terrible ABDL protagonist. I was entirely average in every way. Even anime girls need pink hair.
"That's true! Like. I could see someone with my look being written in as a cookie-cutter-caregiver or a bully or an antagonist. Like, I'm not this small petite gal, you know? I'm pretty tall, I'm well stacked, I have pretty thick thighs comparatively. I'm not your average ABDL protagonist either."
"That's a good point..." When I looked at Blossom, it was easy to see a sexy girl in a diaper. Seeing a little girl, however, was a lot more difficult. Maybe tall athletic girls need more ABDL representation too, but I already felt like I was tackling more than I had a right to. I wasn't credentialed for these kinds of things. What did I know about being Black or Native American? Nothing, that's what. I didn't know anything about being a tall, sexy goddess either.
"If you want to be representative," Blossom asked curiously, "why don't you have any boy protagonists?"
"They say to write what you know," I shrugged. "I don't know guys all that well. Most of the ones I write turn out to be kind of stereotypical, and I think that would be annoying were I to make one the main character."
"You don't know a lot about other cultures either," Blossom countered.
"Maybe I feel like there's a greater need? So putting in the extra effort is worth it?" But Blossom had a point.
"Is this why you don't write about sex?" Blossom asked. "Because you should write what you know?"
"Uh..." That was a complicated question, but the simplicity of Blossom's answer was staggering. So too was her accuracy. "I write about sex..."
"Noooo... you write about diapers. Aya almost touching herself was the closest you ever got to writing about sex."
Yeah, and I almost cut that line. It felt contentious.
"This isn't a judgment of you; I'm just asking. Do you think if you had more experience with sex stuff, you'd write more sex stuff?"
"I have experience with sex stuff... not as much as you, but I think I'm in the majority there." I wasn't being mean, and thankfully Blossom didn't take it that way. Maybe I had some lingering resentment because of high school, but I was trying not to let it affect the way I treated Blossom.
"So you've had sex?" Blossom asked. It was a simple enough question.
"I... have experience..." Okay, so I was technically a virgin. But I'd done stuff with people! Specifically, an older guy I met online when I was sixteen and my twelfth grade homecoming date. I wasn't good at relationships.
"You know," Blossom smirked, "I do know that you're a writer and that you pick your words pretty carefully. "I have experience" is not the same as answering my question with a yes or no."
I rolled my eyes. "Don't you have food to order? And I'm trying to finish this chapter. So you have to choose: continue this conversation, or get breakfast and probably a new chapter of Academy A."
Blossom pouted. It was fake, but it was a cute pout.
After Blossom finished placing the food order, she went to one of the windows overlooking the beach outside. She pulled the curtains open a little to allow some sunlight in. She had a soft spot for watching the waves lap the sand, and even though it was definitely no longer the kind of weather for tanning, she was still happy to see some sunlight.
The fact she was in a skimpy nightie with her diaper visible between her thighs? She didn't seem to mind.
I took a break to eat breakfast when it arrived, and then I went back to writing. I struggled a little bit in the middle, but Blossom eventually changed out of her diaper and went to the store to buy some food for dinner. I used that time to nail down some of the more intense parts of Chapter Eight. We were most of the way through the afternoon when I thought it was good enough. It was a little longer than the previous chapters, but I had a lot of story to tell before the end.
"Okay," I said out loud. It was the first thing I had said in hours. "I'm done, I think."
If Blossom had been a catgirl from an anime, her ears would have pricked up at those particular words. She bit her lip playfully, touching her index fingers together in mock coyness.
"Soo... do I get to read it?"
"If you want to..." I had to admit, after the last time, I really liked watching someone read my work in person. It felt like giving someone a present. Blossom sat down next to me on the couch and I put my laptop between us.
Chapter Eight.
***
(If you are following Academy Works, please read Ch.8 [linked above] and return here to continue the story. If Ch.9 has been released, it is recommended that you DO NOT read it at this time.)
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