Chapter Thirteen:

My profession was, in most aspects, innocent. Diapers. Baby bottles. Pacifiers. Not the sort of stuff you find on a porn site. But I knew what I'd signed up for: I wasn't naive. Many cameras and many subscribers had seen my naked body, either in the middle of a diaper change or just when I walked around topless.

So when Betsy took the onesie off to check my diaper and decided to keep it off until I was wet, I wasn't at all phased. I curled up in my pile of stuffed animals, wearing only a thick white diaper, and played with my toes. All afternoon, I'd had to pee. But now, legs spread wide and tiny breasts on display, I finally let go.

Betsy noticed things. She noticed, for example, that Baby Luvs no longer made a fuss when she needed to wet herself. That in a few short days, she'd become normalized to the process, even though each time she did, it was simply a warm reminder of her true role in the world. Likewise, in time, over the days to come, she'd get used to messing herself, too, stepping deeper into the indulgent nature of infantile delight. And for a good percentage of fans, seeing her that way, seeing her acceptance... that was their money shot. For others, seeing her step down to new and deeper levels of childhood was what they wanted. Which was why instead of breaking for lunch at the usual time, Betsy had every intention of feeding Luvs hers in a whole new way.

The first feelings were odd. Unnatural. Then very warm. The heat poured over my skin, toward my bottom, as the diaper turned a dull yellow. It started to soak up my on-purpose accident. The wetness was sapped away from my body, but the heat remained. And relief of finally going, of being free of the constant pressure to run to the bathroom. I'd worn diapers for years on this set, but a wet one... it was such a different experience. I looked down shyly and blushed at the camera.

I managed to snap her face in a series of pictures, freeing myself of my lost thoughts in time to capture that full spectrum of emotion. Relief. Shame. Surprise. Enjoyment... contentment. It was amazing to me just how beautiful each and every one of her emotions were, how vivid, how precious. Why was I thought-gushing over a girl who just wet herself? Jesus. My parents would be so proud.

"Smile for me darling girl." I snapped the picture. The camera crew noticed and caught me in frame, and I whipped around to move my finger across my neck to signal them to cut it. I wasn't a part of this okay!

"If you don't want to be in the shot, you can't talk either. It's a video, not one of your stills."

"Listen, I'm just used to--"

The cameraman and Jackie were still squabbling but I didn't really care. I looked down past my breasts at the yellow diaper. I'd finally finished, and the whole thing felt thicker and heavier. Quietly, I pushed my fingers to the front of it. For the camera, obviously.

Both of us stopped arguing the moment she did that. We both wanted to capture it, we both knew how precious and important it was... although to the cameraman, it was important to the client. For me it was important for other reasons. Betsy snatched her up a moment later though and hoisted her from behind in the crook of her arm.

"Let's get you some special lunch, little Baby Luvs."

On the one hand, her not acknowledging that Leona was wet seemed a wasted opportunity. But then, in reflection, babies were wet all the time. It simply wasn't special. Betsy played the audience like a fucking fiddle!

On her hip, with the wet diaper pushed between my legs, the differences in a wet and dry diaper were more apparent than ever. My cheeks went crimson. "I... um... c-can I be changed, Mommy? Pwease?" I was wet, after all. That's how this worked!

"Oh, let me see." Betsy slipped her finger into the waistband of the diaper and considered for a moment, or pretended to, and shook her head. "Oh you silly girl, you're only a little bit soaked. Let's not waste diapers, little darling."

She was going to make her stay in her own pee? Betsy sat down on her chair and pulled Leona into her lap, or rather... across her lap, sort of? What the heck was she up to?

"...waste diapers? But I'm wet," I muttered, looking at Betsy with outright confusion. It wasn't wasted - it was used! And with how much money I was making Abe, he could afford a few spare diapers, jeeze! "Pwease?" I tried again, in the most babyish voice I could muster.

Only Betsy seemed to have a grasp of what was going on, only her knowing smile reflected any sort of truth. And the truth was this: she unfastened buttons on her blue blouse, which strangely seemed to open up downward to expose her breast. And before she got the bra cup unattached, I realized - before Leona, it seemed - what was about to happen. Oh no.

"Shh, we'll talk about it after lunch."

And like she'd done it a thousand times before, Betsy pushed the girl’s lips to her breast, the nipple already oozing milk.

After two years of regular pacifier use, my instinct was to suck. But less than a second later, my instinct was to shove her away. The warm, sour drops touched my tongue and I winced at the taste.

"Ew, no! No no no! Lemme go!" But fighting Betsy was like fighting a bear.

"She sometimes makes a fuss, because I don't often reward her this way," Betsy explained to the camera, while with her hands she did two very strategic things - she pressed Leona’s head back to her bosom, and she pressed on the wet diaper while she spoke. "But for girls her age, for true little infants, diminished damsels, beautiful baby girls like Baby Luvs... this is really just a part of life. This reminds her, and you, her fans, that she'll never ever be an adult, because no adult could ever be breastfed and not become a baby for the rest of their years."

I kicked and struggled, but with a hand between my legs, pushing firmly against the soaking wet diaper, and her nipple slipping past my lips again... her words drowned me. I closed my eyes and tried to shake them off. A baby... the rest of my years... and I remembered what Abe said. Easy to do nothing. I felt my muscles relax as I curled into her, melting against her chest, and starting to suck.

"There we are."

The camera took strategic angles, the way her lips met Betsy’s nipple, the way her throat moved as it swallowed, and then the bigger zoom out. I, conversely, had no fucking idea what to say, do, or even think. Betsy had no such problems.

"The powers of breastmilk have been known for a long time, and total regression is completely possible by being fed this way. Why, without me, Baby Luvs might one day have been a lawyer, or a doctor, or something else more suited to an adult. But as long as my milk fills her tummy, this is all she'll ever be. Our pretty little Baby Luvs, coloring with crayons, and helplessly reliant on grown ups. Isn't that right, honey?"

I shied into her chest and my eyes fluttered closed. I'd never been with a girl. Not sexually. I'd never wanted to suck on some lady's boobs. And here I was, in her lap, drinking, relaxing… The milk was bitter and warm and totally not my thing, but the warmth of her skin against my lips... it was nothing like a pacifier. Who ever thought a pacifier could replace this? I could have fought and swore and thrashed and screamed. But I didn't want to. I was getting paid a lot of money to do nothing at all. And... well... it wasn't that bad...

I forced myself to move, forced myself to do my job, even though this felt like a train-wreck, like something I shouldn't be looking at.

"If you're a good girl, Mommy will feed you like this again each day for your little movie, alright poppet?"

Her hand brushed back a strand of hair from Leona's face and I managed to get a picture of that. Click. Total contentment... no struggle. She had her eyes closed, her lips firmly latched, sucking like she belonged there. This complicated things in my head so much! Did I want her romantically? Did I want for Leona to suck on my tits too, and when she did, would it be as an adult intimacy thing? Or like this... weird... perversion? And more importantly, why was I so turned on by this whole thing? My thighs rubbed together idly as I took another picture.

"Mommy will put you down for your nap after this, and when you've been a good girl and made messies in your diaper, Mommy will change you too."

I expected her to throw a fit about that, and instead... she nodded. Was she even listening? Obviously not, right? She'd never have agreed to that, tit in her mouth or not!

Somewhere down the line, her nipple slipped away from my lips. Had it been only a minute, or an hour? I was half-asleep and dizzy. Betsy was so comfortable when she held me like that, and I... I couldn't put two and two together. For some reason, with her so close, with me suckling like that, I felt like I found something I was missing. Intimacy? I'd never really cared about anyone. I never let anyone close to me, and even when I'd date someone, I always kept him at arm's length. So when Betsy turned me over and put my lips to her other breast, I sucked without hesitation or worry.

Was it jealousy? Envy? Resentment? I felt something about what was happening, something that drove me to hate Betsy even more than I already did, something that made me despise her even more than the fact she'd been abusing my new friend.

As I snapped pictures, I began to understand some inkling of what it was: this was new to Leona. And she liked it. And it could have been me introducing her to it (although I had no idea how to just lactate on command) when we shared moments in the hotel room, and instead it was this snooty bitch. Why did I feel a sense of longing? Why did I even want to breastfeed an adult woman? I'd never been maternal, not in my entire life. Dammit... why now? What made Leona Whittaker special?