73.)

The only reason I saw Blossom's text was because it popped up on my laptop. I knew I was okay to change if I wanted to. I could use the bathroom. I could wet myself and put on a new diaper, even. Blossom didn't really care about any of that. It was just a game to her. A narrative.

Then again, that wasn't her speed was it? It was mine. She was tilting everything toward me, like how one might cheat at pinball or Hungry Hungry Hippos. Because of that, I knew this was about more than diapers and flirting. Because of that, I knew I wanted to keep playing.

I wanted to wait a while, because I really didn't like sitting around in a wet diaper. But after fifteen minutes of trying to write, I just couldn't. I finally gave up and finished the rest of my water. Then I got up off the couch and stood by the kitchen counter, like one of the stools. Like furniture.

The floor was tiled. Actually, there wasn't any carpet in the whole beach house. I was also wearing one of those new fancy Megamaxes - I knew I wouldn't leak. But wetting myself sitting on the sofa? Or wetting myself lying down? It felt too dangerous.

So I stood there for a moment. I had to pee. It wasn't that hard. Relaxing, deep breaths, and release...

I felt the diaper between my legs flood with warmth and wetness. My knees trembled, my cheeks turned red. It wasn't at all like wetting one of my Attends; it didn't stay very wet for very long. The diaper expanded between my legs, pushing my thighs apart, and I was warm inside and out. It was a lot like the feeling when Blossom's hand was on my cheek.

Gosh...

When I was done, I stood there for a minute. In my head, I was playing a dozen intertwined narratives. The most prevalent was the same scene from the day before: my hands on the counter and my skirt flipped up for the classroom to see. Blossom praising me for wetting my diaper like a good girl.

I finally let the fantasies slip away. I toddled back to the couch, but even walking was different. The diaper was thick, like before, but thicker. Fuller. It didn't squish or swish around. It didn't feel like it was waterlogged, like the Attends. It felt a little warmer, a little thicker, and a little wetter.

I sat down carefully on the sofa, though I knew there wasn't a point in being careful. My butt was mostly dry. It was incredible, actually. I slumped down into the couch cushions, squeezed my legs together as tight as I could, and found my knees wouldn't touch. Granted, they barely touched even in panties.

I looked down at my pajamas and bit my lip. I wanted my pacifier, but it was all the way upstairs. I didn't want to toddle up there. I wanted to cry and I wanted Blossom to get it for me. I wanted her to put it in my mouth.

I reached down and pulled at the elastic band on my pajama pants. Underneath it, the white diaper looked just the same as the last time I saw it. I knew it was the angle - I had watched Blossom do this yesterday. If I sat up a bit and poked around, I knew that it would look discolored and dull between my thighs.

I slipped my hand under the waistband and pressed up against the padding. It didn't squish like the Attends. It pressed in, warm and heavy, and the texture was all wrong. Wrong in a good way, wrong in a safe way. I felt so secure...

Okay, so maybe wet diapers weren't so bad. If I had the right diaper.

It took a lot of effort - more than I would ever admit to anyone - to pull my hand out of my pajama pants. The heat against my skin, between my legs... I just wanted to keep playing with the diaper. With myself. But this was Blossom's living room and I just couldn't in good conscience. So I grabbed my laptop and went back to writing Academy A.

Blossom was gone for a total of about an hour and a half. That was the time it had taken her to get to the store, sit in her car, fend off Discord messages from friends and school teammates, and meander around the grocery store picking out what she wanted to cook. Blossom Brixley didn't know a whole lot of different dishes; she was never the overly domestic type. When all was said and done, she decided to make nachos, because her stomach told her there was something in those tortilla chips that she was pining for. And Blossom was too aware of her own body to simply deny herself.

Snap, snap. Fingers, somewhere near my face. I blinked and looked up. Blossom was standing there with a dumb smile on her face and I looked up at her with red cheeks. I was a little out of breath, like I had been out for a brisk walk, but that was because Academy A was getting... well... people write what they like. And after wetting a real diaper for the first time, I had a lot of flights of fancy.

"Gosh you get into your work," Blossom teased. The sky outside was already growing dim. Friday was wrapping up.

"Yeah, uh..." I raised my hands and wiggled my fingers. "If my hands are busy, I'm kind of in auto-mode."

Sitting up felt like hell. Like I had never sat up before in my entire life. I swear, the only parts of my body I had been feeling for the past few hours were my inner thighs and the heat along my bottom when I wet myself again. All that water finally went through me.

"Well, I hope your hands are ready for a break from writing, because we're having nachos for dinner." Blossom had actually already come inside, set down her groceries, and then circled back around to Amy when she'd snapped her fingers in front of her face.

"Are nachos a dinner food?" I asked. My mom only ever made them for late-night snacks. But she also made them in the microwave like a crazy person.

"Oh absolutely! Tortilla chips, beans, salsa, queso, guacamole, sour cream, some fresh sliced jalapenos; it's so good. You could add some meat if you want but my dad always said that it would be wasteful if you already have beans."

"I don't really like beans," I said, stretching my arms above my head. "The rest of the stuff sounds good though."

I looked at my computer, at where I was in Academy Works, and figured it was probably best to wait until later to finish it. I closed the lid of my laptop.

"Oh shoot! I should have gotten you chicken, then?"

Blossom pouted.

"No, it's okay, don't worry. I'm sure they'll be great no matter what." I'd probably just eat around the beans, but I didn't really care. Blossom's nachos already sounded better than anything I'd had outside of certain Mexican restaurants.

"Well, I hope you like it."

It was honestly amazing that Blossom maintained such a good figure for someone with such an affection for sweets and junk food, but she was very athletic.

"Wanna help me cook, wet diaper girl?~"

"I..." I stared wide-eyed and felt a blush coming on. How did she...? I had pajama pants on! And a blanket!

"...'want to help you cook, Miss Blossom'. Is that what you were trying to say? I know, I know, words are hard at your age, but don't you worry ~ I speak fluent babygirl~"

Yeah, I was definitely blushing now. Blossom motioned for me to stand up, so I did. I didn't know what else I could really do. I couldn't say I wasn't wet, because she could easily prove me a liar. I couldn't ignore it, because that was just as much an admission of guilt. I felt trapped, like that feeling just before you fall out of a chair. But at the same time, it felt like someone kissing you for the first time.

I didn't say anything as I followed Blossom to the kitchen, toddling along in a very unfamiliar way. It was like learning to walk again. I had the same problem when I first wore a Megamax too.

"My goodness gracious you're so fucking cute. How did you get so damn cute?" Blossom actually tended to not swear and curse too much, but when she was flabbergasted it was sometimes inevitable.

"Cute..." I repeated the word in a bit of disbelief and rolled my eyes. I should change. I wanted to change! But I didn't want to admit I needed a change either...

"Alright babygirl, can you turn the oven on?"

Blossom asked me to turn the oven on, so I did. Easy. Then I leaned against the counter and tried to put my legs together a little so it wasn't so embarrassing that I was waddling around her kitchen.

"There's a good girl. Now can you get me two plates? We're going to make super pretty piles of tortilla chips on them, and it's going to be so yummy!"

If Blossom thought it odd at all to be making dinner with an adult woman in a wet diaper, she sure didn't show it.

My embarrassment started to make room for helping Blossom with dinner. I knew baking pretty well, which wasn't this at all, but Blossom was good at giving directions and I was good at following them. We eventually made two stacks of nachos with a ton of weird toppings. Blossom's had beans. Mine didn't.

"You can put these in the oven?" I asked, flicking the plate with my finger. I had never put a dinner plate in an oven before... I always had pans or trays or something. I just kind of assumed they would break something, like metal in a microwave.

"For totes. Look underneath, and if there's a little symbol it'll be fine. Sometimes there's a temperature on the symbol too that'll tell you the limit but for nachos we don't need a high heat. We could use the microwave, but my dad says that the microwave is for reheating and sadness, and not for cooking. So that's why we use the oven."

"I can agree with that," I smiled. I didn't want to tip the plate with stuff on it, so I vowed to check the underside after dinner. I was going to put the plates in the oven but Blossom took them away from me and did it herself.

"Little girls shouldn't go near hot ovens," she said airily.

I pouted. I was near hot ovens all the time! But the little girl remark brought color to my cheeks. Every time I felt like I was getting my bearings, Blossom spun me in circles.

"How about you be a good girl for me and get the sour cream and guacamole out of the refrigerator?" Blossom offered, and then added, "The sour cream is the white one, and the guacamole is the green one. You know your colors, right baby girl?"

"Of course I do," I pouted, but I waddled over to the fridge anyway. Even if I didn't know my colors, they were both clearly labeled. I stacked them both in one hand and brought them back to the counter. I was promptly met with a "good girl" from Blossom that felt a lot like when someone says they love you for the first time.

"Now, do you want both?" There was a singsong tone that she'd slipped into, something new for Blossom, and every word only made her feel more at home with it. "Do you wanna try a little of each, first?"

"I like both."

Blossom waited whatever the requisite amount of time was, which I didn't know because she didn't set a timer, and pulled the plates out of the oven. She had put them on a baking tray, but the plates themselves seemed undamaged from the heat. She put refrigerated guac and sour cream on top of each pile and used an oven mitt to carry them one at a time over to the living room coffee table. I meandered after her, awkwardly shuffling with each step. Weirdly enough, I think the diaper was less crinkly once I'd wet it.

"I should go change before getting comfy," I muttered, pointing at the staircase. I had already wet myself twice. The diaper didn't feel like it was all that wet, but sitting around in a soggy diaper felt so much more embarrassing than a dry one.

"Mmm, c'mere, let me check you before you go change."

This was a gambit; if Amy said no then she wouldn't push it, but Blossom wanted to put the idea out into the world. Not that she knew how to check a diaper on an adult, but how hard could that be? The stories always talked about the fingers in the leg band, right?

"Uh..." Blossom waved me over and I looked awkwardly to the staircase behind me. Check me? How did she plan on doing that? I remembered that Twitter meme from a while ago, with the different kinds of diaper checks... and I was wearing pajama pants, how bad could it be? She already knew I was wet...

So with a deep sigh and a lot of anxiety, I took a few steps forward until I was in front of both Blossom and the sofa. Jeeze...

Alright Blossom, she called your bluff. Now what are you going to do? Are you going to make this weird? Are you going to feel her up? Are you going to bumble this like you did when you first put your diaper on? Keep it simple.

So she did. Blossom stepped up to Amy and she made full eye contact, she put one hand on her cheek and smiled warmly. She slid the other hand flat against Amy's tummy, and then down into her pajama pants. The leg band didn't seem like a viable option at the time, but she could cup the padding. Even if she couldn't discern anything, there was much to be said for ceremony.

Blossom didn't break eye contact as her hand pressed between my thighs, up against the soft padding of the diaper. It was a little cold, a little clammy, but it was so reminiscent of my time on the sofa only hours ago. My cheek burned hot against her palm and I felt my heart race. I held my breath. She was so close to me, smiling at me like that...

"Look at you, cupcake. You wet your diaper like such a good girl. I got you something from the store, too~"

With the same hand that she'd just used to check Amy, Blossom reached into her pocket and pulled out a roll of butterfly stickers. She'd bought them at the grocery store, in the party aisle.

"For being so good."

"Uh... huh..." She took one of the stickers off the roll and put it on my cheek, right where her hand had been. She wasn't even touching me anymore, but I felt like my body was a forest fire. She ignited it, and there wasn't anything else that could be done.

"Alright cupcake, let's go wash our hands so we can eat ~ the plates need a few minutes to cool anyway."

Blossom felt, all in all, pretty proud of herself! She'd really nailed every step she tried to take, and she'd stuck the landing too.

"I... uh..." Blossom was two steps toward the bathroom when I managed to speak up. I looked at her nervously, then at the staircase. "I should... since I'm..." I couldn't even say it. Gosh, I felt dizzy. Dizzy in a good way, like when you drink two of your mom's wine-coolers.

"Oh, I'm going to give you a bath after dinner, so there's no need to change you right now." Blossom answered with all the confidence of someone announcing that the sky was blue.

"But..." Wasn't that the whole point of the diaper check?! It was just a show, something to do before I could go upstairs and get out of this thing! But the way Blossom said it, like it was certain. Like God had given her a tablet with those words written on it: Amanda stays in her wet diaper while she eats, then Blossom gives her a bath. How was I supposed to argue with that?

"There's my good girl! C'mon, let's wash hands and eat ~ we can watch Stranger Things."