67.)

As it turned out, there was no Boston Market in... well, anywhere. There was one south of where we lived, but the second we got on the freeway we were out of luck. And every other restaurant was closed, so we stopped at McDonald's and a grocery store so I could get the ingredients to make apple pie. It wasn't the most traditional Thanksgiving, but I never really understood the celebration of rampant genocide anyway. It was like having a holiday for the Crusades.

Then again, didn't all holidays kind of start that way? Was it wrong to repurpose those events as something more modern, more acceptable? Or was it dismissive? I guess if there is one thing all holidays have in common, it's that we take what we want from it and ignore the rest.

The beach house at this time of year was in its phase of "why would anyone come here". Quite honestly, the fact that there'd be two people in there with the lights on and the storm shutters not installed… it was rather conspicuous. But like many beach tourist towns, this one got pretty quiet this time of year anyway. It more-or-less balanced out.

"I wish this place was this quiet and empty when the sun was out in the same season. Think about lying on the beach and getting tans in our diapers? That's some good stuff right there, cupcake."

I rolled my eyes, but color filled my cheeks just the same. I was already prepping the kitchen for pie-making. I had enough ingredients to make a half-dozen but I would settle for one this time. I wanted to have time to do our scene.

I was working the butter into the flour when I noticed Blossom walking down the hall past the downstairs bedroom. There was only one reason to go that way.

"Hey!"

"Huh? What?"

Blossom turned around, a bit surprised by my volume. Honestly, I was surprised by it too.

"No bathroom," I told her. "Wetting yourself isn't as easy as you'd think, so just hold it until then."

"That's….a good point, I guess."

Blossom was actually caught off-guard by the order, but the logic was sound; in the few times in her life that she'd peed on sexual partners, it was always when she was drunk or high or otherwise able to push past her lifelong inhibitions that were taught at a young age. A full bladder seemed only practical.

Uncomfortably shifting her weight from one foot to the other, Blossom came back to the kitchen and leaned on the counter to watch Amy.

"You should honestly go get changed," I said, avoiding eye contact with Blossom. "I'm still doing the crust, so it will be a while before the pie is done. Maybe when it's in the oven we can go over some ideas?"

"Alrighty! Don't get lost in your head though, cupcake."

There was a part of Blossom that was nervous about this, that she wouldn't be able to perform. There was a part of Blossom that was worried that she might freak out, or that Amy might freak out, or something else might go wrong. What if she messed up the diaper tapes? What if she didn't like the way it felt? All the stories always talked about how good it felt to wet oneself… but those same stories also tended to have diapers disappear the moment they were untapped from a girl's hips, so reality didn't hold too much command in the realm of fiction.

School uniform vibe: short pleated skirt, blouse that left her belly button and taut tummy on display, long socks, shiny black shoes. And, of course, a diaper.

Blossom eyed the outfit on the bed, naked as the day she was born, and tapped her chin thoughtfully. She tried to imagine if she could have worn this outfit if she were actually a child… and the answer was no. But could she wear it if she was in Academy A? Still no. Maybe she could wear the skirt higher on her hips, which would mean her diaper would be impossible to hide.

I put the crust in the fridge to cool and started on the filling. I was using Jonagold apples with a few slices of Granny Smith. A lot of pies used only Granny Smith, but they weren't very sweet. It was like my grandma always said: pies should be as sweet as a girl in diapers. My grandma never said that.

When Blossom came down, she did not look like a girl dressed for Academy A. No, she looked a lot sexier. And each step down the stairs was slow with a slight waddle. I could only look at her for so many seconds before having to look away.

"You put one of the new ones on right?" I asked, without looking up. "The white ones?" I was actually curious if the Smalls fit her. If they did, maybe the Mediums would fit me.

"Yupperino cappuccino~" Blossom lifted her skirt before she got to the bottom of the stairs to show off the diaper she was wearing. "Sexy black lingerie diapers didn't seem appropriate for 'sits and discusses the many ways to poop oneself with friends' little aesthetic, I don't think."

"Probably not." I forced a laugh, then I forced myself to look at her. She had lifted the front of her schoolgirl uniform and I could see the tapes of her diaper. White. Fresh. Clean. I felt heat rise to my cheeks. But the tapes were further out, almost above her thighs. It was a tight fit, but... well, it looked a lot better. Kind of sexy, to be honest.

"I shouldn't be too much longer," I said, returning to the pie filling. I couldn't keep watching her lift up her skirt like that. It made me feel like I was doing something wrong.

"Alright!"

Blossom sat down on the stair she was standing on, about five up from the bottom. She pinched her knees together with her ankles splayed: a kind of juvenile way of sitting that she often used to tease boys. With the thickness between her thighs though, it actually made that squeeze a lot more challenging.

"Do you need to use the bathroom?" I asked, still not looking up from my task.

"Yeah, kinda?" Blossom had to think about it for a moment. She wasn't desperate or anything.

"You should drink more water," I said simply. I would have gotten it for her myself, but my hands were covered in sugar and cinnamon and apple juice.

"Okayyyy~"

Blossom squeezed her knees together and pushed back against the stairs to stand up. These diapers were definitely crinkly, and - as Blossom had suspected - when she pulled her skirt up higher on her hips, the diaper peeked out the hem. Of course, lowering her skirt to sit further down her hips would mean coverage below, but the waistband of her diaper on full display. Both options were pretty hot.

Blossom filled a tall glass with water and began to drink it down.

Blossom had three glasses of water in the time it took me to finish making the pie. Assembly wasn't as hard as people made it out to be, but I think I just liked putting stuff together. When all was said and done, a lot of time had passed and I put the pie into the oven and set a timer.

"Well," I said, washing my hands in the sink, "I don't really want the timer going off in the middle of the scene, but at least we have time to plan."

"You have no idea how excited I am to eat apple pie made by you. And if someone had told me that I'd be doing so while in a sexy as heck diapered schoolgirl getup, I'd have never believed it."

And then, in an uncharacteristic form of self doubt, Blossom asked a vulnerable question. "Do I look okay?"

I could have dismissed it. Of course she looked okay. She was Blossom Brixley, and she was wearing a slutty schoolgirl uniform. And, to top it off, she was in a diaper. She could have been the ugliest girl in the world - hell, she could have been me - and she still would have looked great.

But, for whatever reason, I took a long look at her. The uniform was slightly wrinkled from being stuffed in her overnight bag. The skirt was short, hiked up high on her hips. I could just barely see the slight uncharacteristic white of the diaper between her thighs, and only because she was standing far enough away for me to notice. Her hair was long, flowing off her shoulders. Her eyes were bright, but her eyebrows pulled together in thought. Her lips, shimmering pink. They always shimmered like that, even when she didn't put anything on them, like a weak spot on a video game boss. My ears warmed and my heart went up ten beats per minute.

"You... look really great," I said, smiling shyly and unintentionally. "I promise."

That reaffirmation made Blossom light up with all the brightness of a floodlight and she broke into a big smile.

"Good! I'm glad! If I'm going to be your diapered muse, I should at least look the part, right?"

"I guess so," I laughed a little and stepped out of the kitchen. Blossom really did look stunning, and I couldn't keep my eyes on her for very long without feeling inexplicably guilty.

"So, I was thinking... maybe we could set up the stools in the living room and treat that like the classroom? The counter here could be my desk? I think that would work..."

"Perfect! The Wave Wall looks like it could be the kind of art in a classroom too, so that's a great backdrop."

Blossom was good at being herself. She wondered though, if she would be able to transition from 'Blossom the cool and collected college girl' to 'Blossom the Academy student' when she was called upon to do so.

"Remember, you want praise more than anything," I said, trying to sound stern. "So whatever I say, you want to do. That's how Academy A works."

Truthfully, I wasn't that worried about Blossom. As long as she kept drinking water, her part would go flawlessly. She had proven once before how capable she was at roleplaying. On the other hand, I was very nervous about my being in charge.

"I'm nothing without praise. That's why I put so much effort into looking good, right?" She grinned a little sheepishly because she did often plan looks and styles around the kind of attention she would get for them. This wasn't that far from the truth.

"I think I'm gonna flourish at Academy A~"

"I think you will too," I smiled.

I got Blossom one more glass of water while we waited for the timer. I took the pie out of the oven and left the rest of the unused crust in the fridge. I always made too much dough. Maybe I could make another pie later in the week, but for now I set a new timer to let the pie cool. It would take a while.

I looked over at Blossom, who was wiggling in her seat. Any elementary school teacher, or ABDL writer really into diapers, could tell that she had to pee.

Time to get started.