Chapter 3:

Summary of events.    Somehow, in the past hour, I had wet my pants and everyone started treating me like a three year old.    No, it was more than that.    Everyone thought I was a three year old!    But I didn't look any different - my reflection was the same in the mirror and my clothes fit fine.    Then why were they treating me like this?    Why couldn't I convince them I was an adult?    Any time I tried to get answers, I just had more questions.

"Mar--" I hesitated at the word, looking up at my best friend.    When I said her name, she heard something else.    I shifted uncomfortably in my cold, wet slacks... "Where are we going?" She had been leading me by the hand down the back halls of the church.

Marjorie pushed open a door, peeked her head in, and led the way inside. There were racks and racks of clothes, a few folding tables, some lights; this was a dressing room, an impromptu one at least, and it seemed the two of them had some privacy here. "Aren't you excited?"

"...excited for what?" The room was quiet and filled wall to wall on one side with coats and clothes.    Maybe it was a costume area or a storage place for wedding apparel.    The church must have had a hundred weddings a year, now that I thought about it.    It was a gorgeous place.    But more importantly than what was in the room was what wasn't.    Other people.    Just Marjorie and me.    Maybe I could convince her I was an adult...

"Excited to get dressed up? You don't think Mommy's forgotten her little girl’s favorite game, right?” Her tone was playful as she turned away, clicking hangers against one another and she shifted dresses from one side to the other. Obviously she had something in mind; she worked like she was on a mission.

Dressed up?    I looked down at the wet spot on my beige pants and bit my lip.    I guess I couldn't wear this around the church, could I?    The fact that Marjorie had mentioned diapers didn't slip my mind either.    But I wasn't actually child-sized, so I would never fit in one anyway.    Now was as good a time as any... "I know you think I'm a kid.    But I'm not.    You have to remember.    You're not my mom.    You're my friend." But even as I explained the situation, I knew it wouldn't work.

"You're a big girl, I know.    And we want everyone to see how big you are, right?" Her voice was uninterested; she didn't even turn around. But despite her choice of words, her intent did leave some suggestion that maybe she was on Floren's side. Or maybe that was just wishful thinking.

Big girl.    No one said 'big girl' to anyone but little girls.    I pouted and crossed my arms over my chest.    I was getting frustrated! "Marjorie!    You aren't listening!    It's like you're under a spell or something!" I never believed in magic, but what else could it be?    And then I remembered something that woman told me from the antique store, about a curse. "...the clock," I muttered. "It's the clock."

"What's the clock, sweetheart? Did you want to practice reading the time again? Okay, the big hand is on the three and the little hand is on the seven, what time is it?" Marjorie pulled out a puffy dress from the rack and held it out triumphantly. It was lemon colored with little mint green lace ribbons on the bodice, it had puffy sleeves and a skirt that billowed... and it was exactly in Floren's size.

I looked up at the dress in awe.    It was... gorgeous.    Absolutely gorgeous.    One of the most beautiful things I'd ever seen.    But so innately childish, so juvenile.    I started to blush and shake my head, but my stomach was filled with butterflies.    These feelings... they weren't right... "I dun wear dresses, Marjorie..."

"Floren, darling, it's no time for jokes - I let you wear pants earlier today and look what happened?" With no grace at all, she pressed her hand to the soaked crotch of the girl’s pants and clucked her tongue. "You're better in dresses. They hide your diapers better, and keep you feeling prettier. You picked this one out."

I shoved Marjorie's hand away and balled my hands at my sides.    My emotions bubbled to the surface faster than I was used to, and before I knew it I had started screaming. "Cut it out!    Stop!    This isn't funny anymore, and I'm not wearing a dumb dress no matter what you say!" The clock, I reminded myself.    I turned and took off running for the door, but Marjorie grabbed my wrist and pulled me back.    I tried to break free, but her hand clung to me like an iron cuff.    When did she get so damn strong?!

"Oh, no no no, you are soaked!    What kind of parent would I be if I let you run around in wet pants?" Without a sweat she picked Florence up in one swooping motion, put her against her hip, and sat her down on one of the folding tables. "Lay down."

I felt my feet leave the ground and my heart skipped a beat.    Marjorie sat me on her hip, wet pants and all, and then plopped me down on a huge table in the center of the room.    I was frozen in disbelief.    My stomach was fluttering and my thoughts swirled around in a fog.    I blushed as I sat in my wet pants on the table, struggling to form words. "Y-you're not... m-my mom..." I could have kicked her or thrown myself to the floor, but I didn't.    I just sat there shyly.

"Florence, that's a very hurtful thing you said. You have to be more careful with your words, you understand me? I might not have given birth to you, but I didn't abandon you now, did I? Now you apologize to me, okay? That was very rude and very mean of you." Firm and stern.

I... I hurt her feelings?    I didn't mean to hurt her feelings... I just... I... I shook my head and tried to clear my head, but it wasn't working.    And the idea that I'd done something bad was overwhelming me.    So I had to.    I had to apologize. "S-sorry Mommy," I muttered.    Mommy?    No... no, I said Marjorie!    I did... I swear I did...

"There's a good girl." Marjorie pressed Florence by the chest into a laying down position.    With little ceremony, she pulled down her wet pants and began to undress her; a motion equally surprising but also somewhat comforting. And Floren didn't even move, not until she felt the cold of the baby wipes that seemed to come from nowhere.

I shivered at the touch of the baby wipes and looked up at the unfamiliar ceiling.    What was going on?    Why wasn't I stopping her?    But I didn't want to wear wet pants, did I?    I mean, I had an accident, and she was just cleaning me up.    Right?    But for as many rationalizations as I made, something still felt wrong.    Like I was forgetting something important...

"You never answered my question, babybutt.” There was a sound, an odd and familiar sound, crinkling plastic like rustling leaves, and the sensation of her ankles being lifted, then thick comforting padding put beneath her behind. "If the big hand is on three and the little hand is on seven, what time is it? I bet you know, you're so clever!"

She lifted my ankles and I squirmed a little in discomfort.    But when she put me down again, a soft cushion awaited my behind.    I should have thought more about that action, but I was distracted by her question.    Big hand on the three?    Little hand on the seven.    I struggled with the mental picture before finally taking a guess.    Obviously I'd be right. "3:07."

"Not quite, little princess. You'll get it next time for sure, I know you will." The smell of powder was thick and familiar, almost as thick as the diaper as it was pulled up between her legs and taped on one side and then the next, each movement pulling the pink plastic tighter and more snug.

"...what do you mean?    It's 3:07.    I know how to read clocks, Mommy!" I said it again.    The wrong word.    I meant to say... to say... but as I searched through my foggy mind for the right name, I couldn't find it.    Mommy.    She was just Mommy.    She helped me sit upright and my legs were forced apart.    Between them was a thick cushion of padded plastic.    A diaper.    A diaper big enough for me, in a soft pastel pink with little cartoon designs.    Realization dawned on me: the past five minutes... the smell of powder, the raising my ankles, the cold wipe on my skin... I shook my head in a panic. "NO!    I AM NOT WEARING THIS!"

"Shh. No fussing now, alright? We're already running behind and we have to get you back upstairs to do your hair. So no fussing." Hanging on the closest hook was the dress, and in her hands she had a fluffy bundle of petticoats to wear under it. A bra? No, girls her age were too little for those.

I shoved her hands away and pushed myself off the table, but the unfamiliar thickness between my legs made it hard to balance.    I fell against the table for support and held down the dress shirt over the front of my diaper.    My cheeks were burning crimson and I looked up at Mommy with fiery aggression. "I.    Said.    No!"

"Mommy heard you, but you can't go out there dressed like that." One smooth motion, she tugged the top up over Florence’s head and left her entirely and completely naked aside from her diaper, like this was just so normal.

Everything she did felt so definitive, so final.    I couldn't stop blushing, struggling to cover both my bare C cup breasts and the front of the shameful pink diaper.    Everything was going to fast.    I couldn't stop her.    I didn't know how!    Tears started to fill up my eyes. "LEMME ALONE!    I'M NOT A BABY!    I'M NOT!"

"No no, honey, you're not, you're a big girl. And big girls don't piddle down their legs at weddings. Are you my big girl? Mommy's big trooper? Yeah you are, honey." Soothing tones, easy inflections. "Now, let's get you dressed." For women the same size, Marjorie sure was good at manhandling Floren, getting her into the petticoats, and then the dress, despite her protests.

I fought her the best I could.    I tried my best.    But in the end, Mommy stood me upright in front of the mirror, strapped into buckle-up Mary Jane shoes and white stockings.    The dress was even more gorgeous than I thought, and even more infantile.    And true to Mommy's word, the petticoats didn't lift the skirt high enough to see the pink diaper hidden underneath.    Though my eyes were red and my cheeks were wet from crying, I had never looked so beautiful in my entire life.    I stared at myself in awe.    Then, shyly, I smiled.