#dearchloe

[thecommunityfridge]

The Eye Roll

TW: Ageplay, diapers, humiliation, bedwetting, spanking, manipulation

This story was inspired by and costars (with her permission) the wonderful @dearchloe. Go check out her amazing work!

"No, Mister, no way! You have wet the bed five of the last six nights. I am done playing around. Five nights of wet pull-ups in a week means you sleep in the nursery until you can prove you deserve otherwise. No exceptions!" Miss Chloe lectured me as she fought to get me diapered and dressed for bed.

Miss Chloe, the domineering British woman who had shown up at my door one day, declared she was my Nanny, and somehow took over my life like an AB/DL Mary Poppins, wasn't wrong. I had wet the bed five of the last six nights, and I had invoked her prescribed consequence of having to move into my guest room turned nursery until I could prove I could keep my pants dry overnight.

Of course, it didn't matter to Miss Chloe that my accidents had all been her fault.

She had made me drink all that water right before bed every night, because 'I was too dehydrated.' She carefully monitored whether I got out of bed at night, spanking me for getting up before I had 'slept' a full ten hours, because 'I needed to get a good night's rest.'

How was I supposed to keep my pull-up dry when I was spanked every time I made a very necessary midnight run to the plastic potty she kept in her room, the only toilet I was allowed to use?

There was no use in explaining the unfairness of it all to Miss Chloe though. Each time I talked back, I was met with some explanation with infallible logic about how she was right, and I needed to just accept the well-deserved consequences of my actions. It was infuriating.

So, this time, instead of trying to justify my predicament, or talking back as Miss Chloe termed it, I tried a new tactic. I rolled my eyes hard, like a bratty preteen, turned my back on my self-declared Nanny, and said, "Whatever," with as much cool disdain as I could muster.

That was a bad idea.

Miss Chloe immediately rounded on me, getting in front of me, and cutting off any means of escape.

"Oh my! I didn't know my little poppet's eyes were so tired! That was quite the eye roll, Little One!"

I looked at my caretaker confused. Miss Chloe was usually much more in tune with why I did something than this. My eye roll wasn't because I was tired. It was a sign of disrespect and rebellion. It was a manifestation of my frustration with her domineering attitude.

I tried to tell Miss Chloe as much when she immediately cut me off.

"I mean, your eyes ~must~ be tired, because I know that a good little boy like you would never roll your eyes at me on purpose! If that was the case, why, I think you would definitely have to take a trip over Nanny's lap to be reacquainted with Mrs. Spoon!"

I physically swallowed my words. Miss Chloe had proven to be a savant with 'Mrs. Spoon,' and I was not ready to risk her wraith again.

"No! Of course not Miss Chloe, my eyes just must, um, be, very tired! It is bedtime after all!" I responded, backtracking faster than a cat walking in on a room of dogs playing poker.

"That's what I thought, you poor little thing. Let Miss Chloe help with that!"

My Nanny caressed my face as she spoke before placing a hand lightly on my back, leading me into the nursery I had been working so hard to avoid.

"I have just the thing to help those tired, little eyes of yours! Now stay right here!" Miss Chloe directed me, leaving me standing in the middle of the room. Standing there, I couldn't help but feel like the giant changing table, crib, and other furniture was silently standing guard over me as I listened to the warden of my infantile prison rummage through a dresser drawer behind me.

"Found it!" Miss Chloe exclaimed.

I felt her presence approaching behind me before, suddenly, the world went black. Something soft and totally opaque obstructed my vision. I raised my hands to pull the intruding object off my face only to hear as much as feel a loud smack as my hands were batted away.

"Nuh uh, my adorable little poppet. You leave that blindfold on! Those silly little eyes of yours need rest! Covering them and taking a much needed ni-night is the only fix for such worn out little peepers," Miss Chloe's said, her voice circling me as she spoke.

With the blindfold on, I felt so little and vulnerable. Despite this room being in my house for years, it's recent conversion to a nursery made it feel strange and foreign to me. Now, completely blind, I felt more like I was lost in some foreign country than in a room in my own home.

I strained my hearing, trying to catch any details to make me feel more comfortable in the nursery.

From my right, I could hear the soft hiss of the oil diffuser, emitting a soft, lavender scent. Behind me, a light ticking came from the small clock on the wall. From all around me, Miss Chloe's steps sounded soft and muffled by the clean, soft shag carpeting under her feet as she circled me.

"Alright, Little One! Let's get you ready for bed!" Miss Chloe's voice suddenly came from behind me.

Before I could turn, I felt the sharp tug of the shorts and pull-up I was wearing being yanked down from behind me. I felt my cheeks warm as cool air assaulted my exposed groin.

"Step!" Nanny ordered, lightly tapping my right leg.

I complied, lifting my right leg, listening to the crinkle of the pull-up as Miss Chloe removed my foot from my pullies' leg hole.

"Other foot!" Nanny's voice rang out from below me.

Just as before, I raised my leg as Nanny pulled my foot out of my shorts and pull-up. The sound of light rustling of my disposable undergarments my reward for compliance.

"Good job, poppet! You kept your pullies dry all day!" Miss Chloe said with a joy and sincerity in her voice that made her sound more like she was talking to a three-year-old than me, the 30-year-old standing half naked before her.

My blush deepened at her words.

"Thanks, Miss Chloe."

I wished I could see her facial expressions so I could at least guess at what she had in store for me next. Instead, I had to settle for the sharp sound of her hands clapping together.

"Alright, arms up! We're almost ready for jammies!"

With gentle hands, I felt my Nanny lift the hem of my shirt and pull it over my head, careful not to knock off the strip of cloth cutting off my vision. I heard Miss Chloe giggle once I was completely naked.

"There's my big boy! All nakey and ready for jammies!"

I felt Miss Chloe's hand wrap around mine and pull me forward. Hesitantly, but trusting that my self-appointed caregiver wouldn't let me hurt myself on accident, I let myself be led to the changing table that I knew from my memory was our destination.

"Hop on up!" Miss Chloe's voice intoned from beside me once we reached the table.

Delicately, I reached out and felt the soft padding and heard the loud crinkle of the plastic covered mattress set on top of the childish piece of furniture. Carefully, I lifted one leg into the table, only to be greeted by more soft crinkles. More confident, I lifted my second leg, getting my whole naked body carefully placed in the table.

I jumped a little as Miss Chloe's soft hands reached out for me, guiding me into the best position on the soft, cold plastic. With each movement of my body, I was reminded of my embarrassing situation by the crinkle of plastic.

Once I was safely on my back, without saying a word, Miss Chloe went to work.

I heard the soft rustle of fresh padding as she grabbed a diaper from under the changing table. The rustle only got louder as she folded and fluffed it.

I heard the sound of skin-on-skin before I felt it. The gentle slap to the side of my ass beckoned me to lift my naked tushy so Miss Chloe could slide the diaper underneath me. Resigned to my fate, I complied with the silent order, listening to the sound of the diaper sliding on the waterproof mattress on the changing table as the babyish garment was placed underneath me.

Still blind to the world, the next sound I heard was the almost imperceptibly noise of powder falling over my crotch. The sweet smell of talcum told me that Miss Chloe intended for me to stay in this padded monstrosity for at least my prescribed 10 hours of sleepy time tonight.

The diaper rustled again as my Nanny folded it up over my loins. The sound of the tapes being pulled and the light pressure of them being pressed flat signaled the end of my humiliating diapering was near.

"Perfect! A perfectly padded and properly protected little poppet!" Miss Chloe announced as I felt her gentle hands help me down from the changing table. "Now to get the sleepy boy into his jammies!"

I listened as Miss Chloe walked to the dresser pulled something out and returned to me.

As she did, I squeezed my legs together, marvelling at the thick feel of the diaper as well as how noisy it seemed in the otherwise quiet nursery. I didn't have long to examine my embarrassing new underwear before my Nanny returned with what was presumably pajamas.

In the reverse of being undressed, I stepped into what I could feel was a soft, fleece footie sleeper. I followed Miss Chloe's soft but firm instructions as she dressed me without question. Being blind to the world adding to my fear of the caring but dominate woman and made me more compliant.

The last noise as I was dressed was the tell-tale whir as the zipper was pulled up from behind me. The familiar noise signalling I was ready to be tucked into the horrible crib for the next ten hours.

"You're so adorable!" Miss Chloe preened as she guided me to the crib, my diaper whispering out my infantile state with each step.

Miss Chloe helped lift me into the tall piece of furniture. She helped me lay down, covering me with a soft blanket, before handing me what was I knew was a comically large baby bottle.

"Drink up!" my Nanny ordered as I heard her slide the side of the crib back in place, locking it with a sharp click.

I lifted the bottle to my lips and filled my ears with the gentle sucking sound that could only come from someone nursing the rubber teat of a bottle. A soft lullaby started playing from above me, signalling that Miss Chloe had turned on the mobile dangling over the bed.

A new click came from by the door, signalling that Miss Chloe had turned out the lights (a pointless gesture given I was already blindfolded).

"Goodnight, my sweet boy! Rest those tired eyes!" my Nanny called out as she shut the door to the nursery, locking me in.

As I lay suckling my bottle, diapered, blindfolded, and locked away in a crib, I couldn't help but relax. Maybe, I thought to myself as I drifted off to sleep and as I had many times before, Miss Chloe was right, and being put to bed in the nursery wasn't so bad.

[thecommunityfridge]

infantilism: the musical

All characters are 18+

cw: abdl, messy diapers, diaper change

“Stop, stop, stop.”

Kayleigh obediently stopped, mid-verse, and stepped back, turning to face Ava, the director, who stood at the back of the auditorium. Grace, who was the musical director but also the pianist, and therefore facing in the opposite direction, gave the leading actress a sympathetic grin and pushed her stool away from the keyboard, reaching down for the water bottle that they all knew was a necessity if they wanted to make it through the long hours of rehearsal in this overheated room without gaining blinding headaches along the way.

“Everything OK?”

“It’s missing something,” the director declared, and Kayleigh worked very hard not to roll her eyes. A similar declaration had been made at least three times a day ever since they started rehearsing for this production. Plenty of somethings had been added, and most of them had been taken out again shortly afterwards when the director changed her mind about it after a night’s sleep.

But it was just one of those things that you had to put up with when you did amateur dramatics — you got amateur directors.

“Like what?” Kayleigh inquired, as politely as she could manage, sitting down on the stage with an audible squish and crossing her legs. She’d been standing, walking, and dancing for four hours and counting by now, and if there was an opportunity for an impromptu break then she was absolutely going to take it. “A tap routine? Or a male voice choir? Or a saxophone solo? Or —”

“No, no, none of that. It needs more whimsy. Something like…” The director paused. “Kay, would you stand up and sit down again for me?”

The actress shrugged. “Sure?” She hopped up to her feet and then, somewhat awkwardly, sat down again. Same squish.

“I thought I heard something!”

“Yeah, I need a change.” Kayleigh brushed a hand through her hair. “Sorry, and all that, but —”

“No, no, don’t you see? It’s perfect! That’s what we need!”

Kayleigh and Grace exchanged a series of looks, and at long last, Kayleigh accepted defeat. “What’s what we need?”

“More verisimilitude!”

“Bless you.”

“You’re a baby, right? So why are you standing singing sophisticated stuff with harmonies and counterpoints?”

Grace intervened. “Because that’s what you asked me to write.”

“Yes, yes, yes.” Ava waved a dismissive hand. “But it doesn’t fit! And now I know why! It’s too grown-up.”

“Too grown-up?”

“We have a nursery setting, so we need nursery music!”

“Like… The Wheels on the Bus?”

“No, no. This is an original musical.”

“Oh, of course. Silly me.”

“What we need,” Ava continued, the light of creation in her eyes, “is a score that feels at home in a nursery. We need rattles. We need banging blocks. We need a kind of… nursery ambience. The authentic sounds of the nursery.”

“I cannot conceivably score a musical for rattle and teething ring, Ava.”

“Sure you can.”

Kayleigh stifled a yawn. “So are you guys going to need me for this? Only like I said, I could kinda use a change.”

“And it’s past her naptime,” Grace added, striking a gentle discord on the piano. “Let her go, Ava. She’ll only get fussy otherwise, and we need to work on this.”

The director sighed. “Fine, whatever. Will you put her down, Grace? I’ll try and brainstorm a bit.”

“I guess.” Grace stood up from the stool and stretched, her shoulders cracking. “Ready, Kay?”

“Sure.” The actress got up, taking her friend’s hand. “See you, Ava.”

“See you, Kay. Have a good nap.”

The two exited stage right, leaving the auditorium through a little-used side door, and began the short walk back to Kayleigh’s nearby accommodation.

“Do you think we’re ever actually gonna finish?”

Grace sighed. “Your guess is as good as mine. She doesn’t seem to get it. I can’t just write whole new songs overnight. Maybe there are people who can, but I’m not one of them, and if it goes on like this much longer, there won’t be anything left of the original concept at all.”

Kayleigh squeezed her shorter friend’s hand tightly. “I know you can do it.”

Grace laughed briefly. “Swap you? You write it, I’ll sing it.”

“I don’t think that would end well.” Kayleigh fumbled in her pocket to find her room key, letting them both into her apartment, and Grace wrinkled her nose as they entered.

“Wow, you really do need a change.”

The actress blushed. “Sorry. It was that curry night at the students’ union.”

“Yeah, no kidding. Get your butt on the mat, girl.”

Meekly, Kayleigh laid down on the changing mat which was the centrepiece of her living space, and there was a rustle of fabric as Grace flipped up the other girl’s skirt.

“You reek. Well, here goes nothing.” As was her wont, Grace began humming something faintly soothing under her breath. Whether she meant to calm herself or Kayleigh, the latter was never entirely sure, but it was nice, and so she didn’t question it. She wriggled a little on the mat as the other girl gave her bum an exploratory squeeze, and then couldn’t help giggling as Grace tore the four tapes, one by one, perfectly in time with the rhythm of her tune.

“What are you humming?”

“It’s, uh…” Grace frowned and hummed a few more bars as she tried to remember. “No idea. Something I made up, I think. I always just think of it as Kayleigh’s Stinky Song.”

The actress attempted to swat her friend’s face, but the other girl pulled back and she missed dramatically. “It’s cool, I like it. Title needs some work, though.”

“It’s nothing special.” Grace peeled back the front of her friend’s nappy and pulled a face. “Girl, we are so totally doing something about your diet. This is gross.”

“I can change myself, you know.”

“Eh, what are friends for?” The humming resumed as Grace pulled the baby wipes towards her and opened the lid of the packet with a click.

Kayleigh lay back and enjoyed the tickle of the wipes against her skin, and the soothing notes of the music. “Grace?”

“Yeah?”

“You know that thing you’re humming?”

“Yeah?”

“Would you say it’s an original soundtrack?”

Halfway across Kayleigh’s bottom, the wipe paused, and so did the tune.

“You know, I guess I would.”

“The authentic sounds of the nursery, right?”

“And nurseries don’t get much more authentic than this.”

“Grace!”

[thecommunityfridge]

It's Abstract

cw: beginnings of cg/l and md/lg

Georgia shook her head. “It’s wrong.”

“How can it be wrong?” Leaning over her shoulder and regarding the shapes on the canvas with a supportive lack of comprehension, Sophie took the opportunity to sneak in a kiss. “It’s abstract, right? It doesn’t have to look anything like me.”

The artist gave her girlfriend a look which they were both very used to by now. “Just because it’s abstract doesn’t mean it doesn’t have to be right.”

“But how do you tell?”

“You just do.” Georgia sucked the end of her paintbrush and frowned. “It’s hard to explain. It gets kind of… deeper. More real. It comes alive.”

“Your paintings come alive?” Sophie studied the whirl of violent colours and tortured shapes again, with a degree of concern this time. “No offence or anything, babe, but maybe it’s better if this one stays wrong.”

“Ha, ha.” She exhaled. “I don’t think I’ve ever really got one right yet. Maybe I never will. But I guess I thought if I had you as a subject…”

“That better not be going somewhere soppy.”

“Sorry.”

Sophie kissed her again, pushing between the paints and the painter. “You have one of me already, remember? I don’t want any painted competitors coming alive and fighting me for your hand. I’m not Lancelot.”

“Did he have painted competitors?”

“I dunno. He went to jousts and things, and fought over a girl’s glove, right?”

Georgia shrugged.

“Anyway, I’m not offended or anything, ok? I can be your girlfriend without being your muse.But you gotta do without your model now, because I have to be in town.” She gave the brunette a playful pat on the head.

And Sophie went to town, and Georgia watched a TV show, and later they both went to bed. And that might have been the end of it, except that it wasn’t.

Actually, it was 3am when Sophie, unable to sleep, went to get a glass of water and found herself standing before the canvas. Maybe it was sleep deprivation, maybe something deeper, but she suddenly felt she knew what Georgia meant. There was something shallow about the whole thing. Colour, and shape, and perspective, all carefully manipulated, all carefully interwoven — but really, she mused, no more meaningful than a toddler’s finger-painting, with long smears of green grass below and blue sky above and nothing at all to join the gap. Stick figures with stick arms and endless grins.

She’d never touched her girlfriend’s work before. She didn’t interfere. But now she’d seen the error, she positively itched to fix it. Sophie knew exactly what was needed — just a touch here, and another here, and almost before she knew it, the brush was in her hand and careful strokes were transforming the whole picture. 

Time lost all meaning, but nevertheless went by. The grey dawn light crept through the windows, brushing curious fingers over the edges of her work. The birds began their chatter outside, debating its merits. And Sophie sat back, exhausted, her fingers stained in oils, her eyes dark with sleeplessness, the work finished at last.

It was probably kind of weird to make your first piece of art a self-portrait. But it felt so right, it felt so deep, it felt so much like her, that she couldn’t bear the thought of anyone criticising it. 

Maybe it made sense. She knew herself better than Georgia knew her, after all, however deep their connection. There were parts of her that she had never dared share with the beautiful brunette she’d brought into her life. 

Up to now, that was. Because as she cast a final glance over the product of her efforts, Sophie’s eyes widened and she realised that she had given her work a title, spelled out in broad capitals for all to see. 

MAMA.

The picture wasn’t wrong any more. And she had to concede that Georgia had had a point. Suddenly, it felt very real.

There was a creak from somewhere behind her, and Sophie looked around with such intense love in her face that Georgia, who was just wandering out of the bedroom, stopped dead in her tracks, eyes wide, wondering what was going on.

“Come here, baby girl. I think you need to do another pretty picture for me.”

A/N: Thank you so much for this project! You’ve given me the nudge to finally stop lurking and start trying to create a little…

[catchthis-drift]