74.)

We didn't watch Stranger Things. We watched eighteen episodes of Bluey because that show was so unbelievably addictive and the episodes were only seven minutes long. The nachos were really good, and Blossom made so many that we kept snacking on them long after we were done eating.

After a few episodes of the show, I completely forgot what I was wearing. I was enraptured with the television, and would often kick my feet during exciting parts or ask Blossom questions about Australia, none of which she knew the answers to. She did Google a lot of stuff for me though.

I had a glass of apple juice because Blossom got some from the store. I wasn't sure if that was a lucky guess or if I'd mentioned apple juice to Blossom in the past; it was a particularly nostalgic drink for me. I finished it in the span of two episodes.

At about episode ten, Blossom put her arm around me. I didn't notice until episode twelve. I didn't care until episode fourteen, but then I didn't care again in the middle of episode fifteen.

We were halfway through episode eighteen when I had to pee, and that's when things started to fall apart.

Blossom had planned the night out in her head; nachos and Stranger Things and then a bath for the girl she totally didn't have a crush on. What happened wasn't what she planned, but it was even better because it happened organically. Bluey was a show that Blossom might have watched when stoned, but watching it in the context of Amy acting Little was also good. She wondered, idly to herself, what Amy might be like when high, and resolved at one time in the future to offer her the option.

It might honestly be good for her.

After a while, Amy began to get anxious. And not just a little bit. She kept squirming in place, picking at her fingernails, and holding her breath; they were all signs that Blossom was pretty familiar with. She didn't know if it would be best to address the anxiety directly or to try and work around it, so she took the latter approach. Holding Amy by the hand, Blossom played with her hair and pointed out stuff in the episodes. It wasn't enough to keep Amy out of her head though. So after the 18th episode of Bluey, Blossom hit pause and sat up, turning to face Amy on the sofa.

"This is a vibe check, Amanda. How're you feeling? Be honest, okay?"

"Fine," I said, faking a smile. Blossom gave me a look. That "you're lying" look that parents give. Ugh, she was too good at it. "I dunno," I admitted, pulling at my fingers a little. "I was okay, and then I remembered... I dunno..."

"Remembered?" Blossom asked, tilting her head.

I motioned to my pajamas. I didn't want to talk about it. I had to pee and I'd been sitting in a wet diaper all day. It was gross, wasn't it? I didn't want Blossom to think I was gross. I wanted her to think I was clean. Powdery fresh. Beautiful.

"Oh, you remembered you were wet?"

Blossom didn't have an ounce of teasing or fun-poking in her tone. She gave a warm smile, giving her best reassurance performance.

"I think it's really hot, you know? In stories, I always love when the protagonist doesn't get a change right away, 'cause it's like.. I don't know, it's hard to put into words. But I think it's really attractive. Do you wanna get changed? Would that help you to feel better?"

"Yeah," I sighed. "I dunno, I tried to be cute about it. And earlier, when you... I dunno." I pulled at my fingers a little more. "I just feel gross right now."

"That's alright babes, you know that like… you don't need to like everything all the time. I love the feeling of getting sweaty when I go for a run, but back in high school at the end of a football game performance I hated it. The same thing can give you different feelings in different contexts. For the record, I don't think you're gross; I think you're sexy. But what matters right now is how you feel."

Blossom was making a lot of sense. I didn't care to argue the semantics, but it was nice to know that I wasn't crazy. Then Blossom got up off the sofa and helped me up. I wobbled in place for a moment to get my footing. Ugh, the diaper was thick and awkward between my legs. Much the way Blossom explained it, this thing I loved so much a few hours ago had become something I didn't want anywhere near me.

"You still need that bath," Blossom said with a smile. "And it will help you feel less gross."

The way she said it... it wasn't maternal or condescending. She said it like a kind stranger who gave you bus fare after you lost your wallet. I think that was why I agreed with her. A bath sounded kind of nice…

***

The bath wasn't a very baby thing. Blossom filled it with bubbles and toys, but she mostly played on her phone and talked to me about one of her classes she hated. I washed myself and soaked for a few extra minutes, enjoying the stillness of the water. I would sometimes dip my ears under the bubbles so that Blossom's voice became a quiet, wordless drone. Then I would feel guilty and come back up to make a comment about how college is a total scam.

The upstairs bathroom had a shower, but the big tub was off the master bedroom on the first floor. That was where Blossom slept. I wondered idly if she would make a move to cuddle together. I kind of wished she would, but then again... the past two days had been a whirlwind of intimacy and I wasn't sure I could handle that kind of closeness. It was okay before, sometimes, because it felt like a friend thing. Now, we'd both checked each others' wet diapers. That was definitely more than friends. Playmates? Ugh, this was a question for Twitter...

I dried myself off and wrapped the towel around me. Blossom had gone off to get into some pajamas. I wondered if she would be changing herself into a diaper, but I didn't ask. When I stopped leaking bathwater everywhere, I left the master bedroom to find her. She was lying on the couch in the living room, scrolling on her phone.

"Do you think it would be weird if I looked for a pretty bit of lingerie to wear with a diaper? I don't think it is, but I guess I only have my own perspective. People tend to write diapers as either humiliating or baby, and that's all great, but I find them sexy too. Why shouldn't I combine that with other stuff that makes me feel sexy, you know?"

"Didn't you already wear lingerie with that black diaper?" I asked.

"Was that weird?"

"I don't think so. I thought it was cute." Cute was the wrong word, but I didn't want to start calling Blossom sexy. Speaking of: she was sprawled across the couch in short-short pajama bottoms and a halter top. The white diaper was clearly visible from almost any angle.

"Cute is good, but I kinda wanna be sexy as well as cute, if that makes sense? I guess it's not always apparent what the difference is, but it definitely feels different. Like, I could wear my cheerleader uniform and have it be cute, but I could also wear it and have it be sexy, you know?"

"Yeah, I know..." I sighed and cleaned my glasses on the towel. I wore them in the tub on accident, so they were speckled with water drops. "Well, if anyone can make diapers look sexy," I relented, "it's you. You're like... I dunno. If your spheres ever fall apart, consider becoming a diaper model."

"I always kind of thought those models were Bae-for-Pay, you know? Do you think any of them really like wearing diapers, the way we do?"

"Maybe not in the 2000s or whatever, but today? For sure. Twitter's all about it."

I paused for a moment. Blossom was still looking at her phone. I bit my lip and looked at the stairs. She was diapered, so...

"I'm gonna go get dressed," I said. "Be back in a minute."

"Do you want my help getting you dressed?" Blossom looked up with a smile and shifted the way she was sitting to show off her diaper.

"Uh..." It took me a moment to parse that. Was she talking about helping me pick out my pajamas? I really only had one pair. So it had to be about diapers. "Help get you dressed" meant "change you". Which meant seeing me naked. I quickly shook my head. "No, I got it."

"Alright cupcake, hurry back down. If you get anxious, please call for me or message me, alright? I'll be right here."

I hurried up the stairs and fell down on the bed in my room. It was a little weird. Everything with Blossom was getting so normal, and at the same time, it felt like it was getting a lot worse. I couldn't put my finger on it, but every interaction with her scared me. She was getting brazen, and I was getting comfortable. I knew, deep down, Blossom would never do anything to me that I didn't want. But in a way, that was the scary part. She'd only do the things I wanted.

Then I had the thought: maybe it's safer if I don't wear a diaper tonight.

And then I had the thought: woah, fuck that. Let's pad up, buttercup!

The second thought won.

That night, Blossom didn't ask to sleep with me. I felt relief and disappointment in equal, combative proportions. Instead, I laid in bed, sucking my pacifier and squeezing my thighs against the thick diaper between my legs, and tried to think about anything but her.

I couldn't. Even in my dreams, she found a way in.