Full Force by Zorro Daddy

Who Is She?

I don’t know how many times someone has sent me an email asking that question. What they are asking is who the ABDL Girl is in the stories I write.

Some are asking for a literal answer. Others want the figurative. Whether I give her the name of Lily, Mia, Gina, Lucy, Penny, Daisy, Rose, Sidney, Violet, Dakota or whomever … she is based on real people. So, at her core, she is more real than fantasy.

But to describe the nature of whom she is:

She is perfect yet flawed. And because she makes mistakes, you can relate to her. No one is perfect, but people like her have perfect intentions all the time. (And there is nothing flawed about having such intentions.)

She is complicated yet simple. There are so many levels to her persona lity that getting to know her is a lifetime pursuit, and one that you can’t help but love. And she’ll often realize that she is searching for a solution to a problem which doesn’t exist. That’s when she goes “simple” again.

She is fun-loving yet serious. A giggle, a bounce and a smile can not only make her moment and her day, but yours as well. And all those around her benefit from her cheery outlook on everything. It is her personal mission in life to make the world around her as happy of a place as possible. But when the time comes to be serious, she can answer that calling because she realizes that the world is a great, big place and she will have a lot of work ahead of her to change it. Until then, she recognizes when she needs to be serious.

She is affectionate. And she shows how she feels, longing to be touched and held and loved back with the same passion she has given. Touch is very important to her. From the forehead to the neck to the lips to the tummy to the bottom to the legs to her toes. Her skin is a receptor and the closer she can be to a beating heart, the more affectionate she becomes. Sure, she’ll wander off, but that’s only because she wants him to take her by the hand.

She is impulsive and spontaneous. And she does what comes to mind and heart without always weighing the outcome of her actions. It is her nature to listen to her first instinct, believing that it is the best one to follow because it was the first one.

She is adaptable. And she hates the fact that she ever needs to act differently or become someone else for a short time when the situation calls for it, but she does it, just like everyone has to. She has a free spirit and an open heart. And it is because of her innocent nature that she believes everyone should be able to be exactly who they are all the time (which is also part of her mission to increase the happiness of the world.)

She is sweet. And everyone around her sees how pure her heart is. She’s got the nature to be happy and to paint rainbows in the clouds when the rain finally breaks, to see the opportunities that present themselves only by candlelight when a storm knocks the electricity out, to see long lines at a Wal-Mart as a chance to say the things you meant to earlier, to relive a kiss over and over in her mind until she receives the next one, to hug someone with the intention of giving her love to them, to wipe away someone’s tears before they stain the cheeks but not before they served their purpose, to think of what others need while she thinks of what she wants, to ask a question without fear of ridicule or judgment, to listen to the advice of others while also deciding what is best for her and to possess a motherly love in the mind of a BabyGirl.

What intrigues me about the typical ABDL Girl from my stories is that she’s real and that’s why I keep writing about her.

She is a character born from reality, nurtured through the events of storylines, and brought to life through imaginations.

She is a dream, but one that is tangible and unforgettable. And when you meet her, you’ll know who she is.

- Zorro Daddy





Chapter One


Early Morning

Dakota awoke, face down on a mattress she didn’t recognize. Grunting slightly, she opened her eyes to a squint - allowing time to visually adjust to the new dawn light trickling in from the bedroom window. Then she sighed. Had it happened again? Rolling over onto her back and looking over at the guy who was lying in bed with her, she got the confirmation she was looking for. Yep. It had happened again. The same thing that happened to her several nights a week, it seemed.

Sitting up, she looked around the strange bedroom - searching for her belongings so she could leave. But from the urge in her bladder, she knew her stay with this latest one-night stander would have a few more minutes to it yet. Swinging her legs over the side of the bed and standing up, Dakota grunted again - feeling the soreness between her legs. Tears came to her eyes as she stumbled towards the bathroom, looking back at the sleeping guy with foggy memories of who he was and of how aggressive he had been in bed last night.

Her head was still spinning as she sat on the toilet, only then to grunt frustration as she had sat on his pee. Ugh. Standing back up, she gathered a handful of toilet paper from the roll and wiped her bottom dry - then the toilet seat before sitting back down.

Far too many of her days had begun exactly like this one … in a strange place, on a strange toilet and with thighs and hamstrings that felt like they had been hammered back so far her feet were likely wrapped behind her head at one point. Shifting forward on the toilet as far as she could go, she aimed to empty her bladder onto the porcelain on the inside of the toilet bowl - as opposed to peeing a streaming directly into the toilet water and making noise that might wake the sleeping guy in the bed.

Placing her elbows on her knees and burying her face in her hands, she took a moment to gather her emotions. Promiscuity may well have only understated what had taken over and now controlled the decisions she made in her life. But the beginning of Dakota’s decline actually began quite some time ago and it was during a point in her life when she was making a very important difference.

As the younger of two, Dakota watched her big sister, Carolina, become pregnant 15 years ago when she was a junior in high school. Their parents immediately disowned her. The guy who got her pregnant abandoned her. Carolina dropped out of high school, got a small apartment and worked behind a gas station cash register until the day before she went into labor. Food stamps, welfare programs and so many other agencies made it possible for Carolina to survive and to take care of her newborn daughter. Without any support from her parents, she still found a way to do it. Dakota came over to her sister’s apartment and babysat her niece as much as possible. And it was this help from Dakota that made all the difference in the world. Without her, Carolina would have had to put her daughter up for adoption - because the expense of daycare wasn’t in the meager budget.

Finishing a morning pee that wasn’t as relaxing as it should have been, Dakota took another length of toilet paper from the roll and wiped between her legs. Lifting the toilet paper up to eye-level, her irises became coated with a fresh layer of tears. She hadn’t just wiped away a few trickles of pee, but also the sticky remainders from her night of sex.

Still welled with tears, her eyes fired a dagger-laden look out at the guy’s sleeping body. Biting her lip to prevent screaming, she quietly walked back out into the bedroom - looking around for her belongings a bit more fervently now.

That was when the fogginess left her head, temporary as the relief would likely be. And though she was thinking clearly at last, she angered more so inside - knowing it took the realization that he had cum inside her to snap her out of the spell she was in.

Fresh memories flooded back into her mind - of her trip to the bar last night, of the gazes of disgust people gave when she walked in and of the hurt she felt for the reputation she had built for herself. But nothing was more painful than having decided to sit next to him.

He was a guy that used to hit on her months prior, before she became known for spreading her legs for any guy that asked. Last night, he was the only guy left in that bar who would even talk to her. So they talked and they drank and then they went home to his apartment for the night.

Finding her purse under the bed, she took out the bottle of levonorgestrel she never left home without. Levonorgestrel … the Plan-B pill. Returning to the bathroom, she took a palm-full of water from the sink to swallow the pill with. Walking back into the bedroom, she stood at the foot of the bed, watching him sleep. He was disgusting. What had she thought last night? Picking up the blanket on the bed to dry her hand, she saw the sticky wet spot where she had been laying.

Dakota started walking around the room, scoffing at how her clothing was spread out all over the place. She remembered how he undressed her, a little bit at a time until she was naked. Stepping into her underwear, she gritted her teeth with another returned thought - one of how cruelly everyone treated her. What was wrong with wanting sex? Anything? No. Lots of people were bigger nymphos than she was. And when a guy slept around, he was always greeted with cheers of the accomplishment. But when Dakota did it, she was greeted with jeers - not the vocal kind, but rather, the kind that could be conveyed through the glares of passers-by.

Picking up her bra and working it out of the twisted mess it had become, she resolved that she didn’t have a problem. She was just fine. Yes, maybe her choices were a bit poor, from time to time, but she was still putting one foot in front of the other - choosing to live life as opposed to merely existing. Slipping her shoulders under the straps, she chicken-winged her arms and fastened the bra strap at her back.

Picking up her stocking, she carefully sat on the foot of the bed - hoping not to wake him up. The last thing she wanted to do was wake him up. And seeing him lying there naked, she became repulsed by him. But as she slid her left leg into the stockings, he turned over onto his back - still sleeping but giving Dakota a good view of his morning stiffness. Closing her eyes, she shuddered at the thought of his girthy length going in and out of her. No wonder she was so sore between the legs. He wasn’t a good-looking guy at all, but he was certainly well-endowed.

Slipping her right leg into the stockings, she carefully stood up and slid the stockings the rest of the way up to her waist. Then she started looking for her dress. This would be a little more difficult to find in the dimly-light bedroom, dawn still being very new at that point. The dress was the first thing he had taken off of her. And she was so drunk at the time she didn’t pay attention to where he tossed it.

But her worst nightmare yet was about to come true. She was going to have to find a way to move him without waking him as she discovered that he was laying on her dress. Oh, the thought of touching him made her skin crawl. Why couldn’t she have gone for Derrick again or maybe Roger? Sure, it would’ve taken a bit more effort to get them to take her home with them and maybe she might have even needed to buy all their beer for them last night. But those guys were cute. This guy was a slob.

Kneeling on the foot of the bed, she reached up to between his knees, taking hold of the lower hem of the skirt of her dress and gently tugging on it in the hopes that it would slide out from underneath him easily. But no dice. And on top of that, the guy broke wind in his sleep, poor Dakota being right in the firing range. Pinching her nose and covering her mouth with her right hand, she kept trying to tug the dress free from underneath him. But it wasn’t moving at all.

Turning over onto his stomach, the guy unknowingly freed the dress … most of the way. But now it was wrapped around his thigh and from his stir in sleeping position, it was clear he would soon wake up. Her intent was to be gone before that happened. But she couldn’t very well walk home in only her panties, her bra, her stockings and her stiletto heels.

The guy broke wind again, Dakota practically gagging as she stood up and just simply yanked the dress off from around his legs. And if he woke up, she would simply punch him in the balls. That would certainly keep him down for the count or at least long enough for her to leave. But luckily, he didn’t wake at all. Her dress was wrinkled and had a horrible odor to it all of the sudden, but Dakota really didn’t care. All she wanted to do was get out of that bedroom and add last night to a growing list of happily forgotten mistakes.

Slipping into the wrinkled dress, she grabbed her purse and her stilettos, heading for the door. But when she turned the knob, the door didn’t open. The guy was lying on the bed and slowly beginning to awaken. Pulling on the door again, she found no avail in opening. It was like it was locked from the outside. She had to get out of that bedroom as quickly as possible. The walls began to feel like they were closing in on her. Adding to the horror of the moment, she felt a little more of his seeds trickling out of her canal and saturating the front of her panties.

Ugh. She wanted to crawl out of her own body at that moment, but spending time thinking about how disgusted she was wasn’t productive in the few moments she had left before he woke up.

Going into the bathroom again, she grabbed another length of toilet paper from the roll - reaching down into the front of her panties and stuffing the toilet paper into the opening of her canal. Hopefully that would hold up until she got home.

Oh, how ugly she felt inside, how absolutely miserable indeed. Walking back into the bedroom and over to the windows, she prepared to make the only kind of exit that she could, an escape … down the fire escape on the side of the building, to be more detailed about it.

Opening the window, she felt the chill of the early morning air as versus the heated temperature of the bedroom. Stepping through the opening, she closed the window as quickly as she could to prevent further cold air from waking him up. Turning around and looking down, she scoffed again. Of course, this guy lived on the 8th floor of this building.

And as she descended one icy cold flight after another, she made the same declaration to herself that she always made when sneaking out of a guy’s apartment in the wee hours of the morning … never again.

Never again.

That’s what she kept saying to herself the whole way home. But Dakota knew the truth and in 48 hours, she would be back at it again. Her life had spiraled out of control and perhaps she would never find her feet on solid ground again.

Ten years ago, Dakota graduated high school and immediately began at a community college nearby. When she wasn’t in school, she was working. And when she wasn’t working, she was babysitting her niece at Carolina’s apartment. Dakota vowed to spend as little time as possible at home with her parents.

She would make it through four years of community college, only being able to afford to pay for part-time credits. So, the completion of her college degree was still another four years away - at the half-rate she was accumulating credits. And her parents didn’t chip in a single penny to help her.

So she withdrew from college, having run out of funds. She would spend three years working menial jobs and constantly being degraded by a father who just wouldn’t back off in his apparent pursuit to destroy any self-esteem she had.

Three years ago, Dakota’s parents disowned her, similarly to the way they disowned Carolina when she got pregnant. Dakota moved in with her sister and her niece. And that was when the promiscuity began.

Dakota walked the two miles of city streets back to her sister’s apartment, wearing a wrinkled dress and walking holes into her stocking feet - the stilettos seeming like they would make her walk a bit more painful if she put them on her feet. She would crash in bed at about 7:45 am - hoping to sleep away the nightmare of last night with a two-hour nap before she was due in at work at 11am.

The past three years of her life had been empty and demeaning. And for a girl who was only two years away from seeing her 30th birthday, life suddenly had no meaning at all.

But little did she realize, as she closed her eyes and drifted off to sleep, that in a little over a week’s time, her life would begin again. She had no idea what was about to happen to her. But for once, the repeated mental declaration of never again finally would have the merit sought.





Chapter Two


Friday, a week later -

Dakota came home early from work at 6pm that night. Like a zombie, she walked straight through the living room without even seeing the visitors who were sitting on the sofa and talking with Carolina. She went back to her bedroom and shed her waitressing outfit. It seemed kind of stupid that she was made to wear that outfit for how much trouble it could invite. Yet, when she went out for a night on the town, she was seen as dressing slutty for the choices of clothing she made. Double standards always set her off and she could tell she wasn’t going to be very good company that night. She could feel her emotions beginning to get the best of her as they always did when things weren’t going her way, specifically … the emotion of anger.

Walking into the bathroom, she started the shower - tossing her waitressing outfit into the hamper. For no foreseen reason, she was scheduled to work through the weekend at the diner but not at all next week. Stepping into the shower, Dakota derided at the reason her boss had given her for not putting her on the schedule at all in the next week. He said it was because business was slow.

Well, if business was so slow then why had Dakota just worked 10 hours straight on that day, never getting a chance to eat herself? Slow? No, there was something else behind it. Little did Dakota realize as she got out of the shower, dried off and walked into her bedroom, she was about to find out what that very reason was.

Pulling her hair back into a loose ponytail until it dried and slipping into a pair of pajamas, she stepped into her slippers and walked out into the living room, expecting to have a relaxing evening of watching the complete Twilight movie series with her sister.

Her niece, Essence, was away at a friend’s house until Sunday. Essence was now a sophomore in high school, quite popular with the boys and just three years from college. Essence was a straight-A, 4.0 student and was nearly certain to have a full-ride scholarship to her college of choice - the Massachusetts Institute of Technology.

When Dakota walked back into the living room, she caught first sight of the man and woman sitting on the sofa with Carolina. The woman had piercing-but-kind blue eyes, was dressed in a simple light sweater, blue jeans and had long, highlighted dark brunette hair. The man had shorter brunette hair and a scruffed beard. Neither appeared to be tall or short, just average in height - though Dakota couldn’t really tell for sure since they both were seated.

“Uh … hello?” Dakota asked with sass for not having been introduced to the man and woman, but also for not even having been spoken to yet by anyone.

“Hello, Dakota,” the woman said with a warm and inviting smile, the details of her make-up both attracting Dakota for their precision but also invoking that competitive nerve females often felt when meeting another for the first time.

“D, this is Misty and Morgan,” Carolina said, Dakota sticking the tip of her tongue into her left cheek and eyeing both of them up.

“Well … hi,” Dakota said, still being defensive. “And who are the two of you?”

“Have a seat, sis,” Carolina said, motioning for Dakota to sit on the reclining chair.

Dakota looked at Misty and Morgan again, then to the five twilight DVDs that were lying on the coffee table. Cautiously, she took a seat - still uncertain as to whom Misty and Morgan were as well as why they were there. But instead of allowing the introductions and explanations to continue to crawl along at a snail’s pace, she decided to plunge into the possibilities.

“Did Mom and Dad finally die?” Dakota asked with a sly smile. “Are these insurance adjusters?”

“No,” Carolina answered, sucking in her lips to hide her smile at Dakota’s question. “Mom and Dad are doing just fine.”

“That’s a matter of opinion,” Dakota sassed back. “So are you guys our new neighbors?”

“No,” Misty answered, still smiling invitingly.

Dakota looked at Morgan, who hadn’t made a sound yet.

“Do you speak?” Dakota asked him, Morgan smiling as well but only nodding.

“Um … sis, do you remember when I talked to you a couple of weeks ago about maybe looking into emotional therapy, at least to see what it was about and what it could offer?” Carolina bravely asked, looking physically uncomfortable as she did so.

“Yeah,” Dakota replied, still uncertain of who these two strangers were and what they were doing in the apartment. “Is that who the two of you are? Therapists?”

“No,” Misty answered right away. “Not in the traditional sense.”

“Okay, just tell me who you are, then,” Dakota said bluntly, tiring of this endless game.

“Dakota, I need to tell you something first,” Carolina said, pausing to collect her thoughts as she knew her little sister was going to be quite upset by the forthcoming admission. “I’m the one who called your boss and told him to take you off the schedule next week.”

Dakota looked at her sister and then to Misty and then to Morgan, anger welling up inside her.

“Is this an intervention? Is that what this is?” Dakota asked with her first audible signs of anger.

“Dakota, calm down. It’s okay,” Misty said calmly.

“Shut up!” Dakota fired back at Misty. “I don’t know you. Don’t you tell me what to do! Don’t you dare tell me what to do! I don’t need an intervention!!”

“D, I just want you to talk with them. That’s all,” Carolina said with tears welling in her eyes and shakiness in her tone.

Carolina never wanted to upset her sister and when Dakota did get upset, it was never pretty.

“Sis, when Mom and Dad kicked you out for getting pregnant, I was always there for you,” Dakota fired back at her sister.

“I’m here for you now, Dakota,” Carolina said with a sniffled response.

“How are you here for me? By inviting a sweet-smiling pretty into the house and her muted side-kick?” Dakota asked, then looking at Misty and Morgan. “Let me save the two of you the trouble.”

Dakota reached down the side of the reclining chair and pulled the lever, the attached foot rest popping up as she leaned back.

“Admission time!” Dakota exclaimed. “I am a friggin’ mess! Woo hoo! I can admit to it! I must be cured. Sorry my sister dragged you out here but it seems I won’t need you, after all.”

“Dakota, that’s not funny,” Carolina said, getting a tissue from the box on the coffee table and wiping her eyes.

“You wanna know what’s not funny? You getting me taken off my work schedule! That is definitely not funny,” Dakota barked, putting the foot rest of the chair down and leaning towards Carolina. “I’m headed nowhere in life, Carolina. I don’t need your help to remind me of that!”

“If you don’t want us to be here, we can leave. We don’t want to make you do anything you don’t want to do,” Misty interjected with a calming tone. “By the looks and sounds of it, you’re doing just fine. You have it figured out and you know what to do. You have a lot of anger and this gives you the ability to speak truthfully … harshly but still truthfully. It’s only when people lose the ability to feel emotions that they no longer have the ability to control the situations that define their lives.”

Dakota’s eyes grew big and wide. She sat back in the chair and looked over at Carolina who was sobbing softly into a tissue. And just as quickly as Dakota became enraged, she ballooned down from it, realizing how she had hurt her older sister.

“No, I appreciate the help. Please stay,” Dakota said with a much calmer voice.

“On one condition we will stay,” Misty said, then waiting for the obvious question.

“What’s that?” Dakota asked, getting up from the reclining chair and sitting next to Carolina on the sofa as the two of them embraced.

“I don’t want to hear you putting yourself down ever again,” Misty said with a tone far more serious and far less kind than before. “And I don’t want to hear you putting your sister down either. Is that understood?”

“Yes,” Dakota said softly, retreating back into herself as she realized that she wasn’t the alpha in the room anymore.

And with that simple exchange, Misty took control of the situation. She stood up and walked over to the reclining chair, taking a seat and facing Dakota.

“Let’s begin again,” Misty said - crossing her legs, folding her hands and placing them on her lap. “Dakota Monroe, tell me about your life. Start at any point you like, but remember … do not pick on yourself or your sister or anyone else.”

Dakota stared at Misty like the woman was crazy. Then she shrugged her shoulders. What could it hurt to try? She took in a deep breath and then exhaled, figuring where she would begin. But when Carolina picked up the box of tissues and set it on her little sister’s lap that was the moment when Dakota knew exactly where to begin.

“I make choices on my impulses,” Dakota began, Carolina’s eyes growing big and wide as she had never heard Dakota admit to anything so clearly or easily. “I don’t think. I just hope for the best and I go for it. I’m a really loyal person and I do really good things for people, but when they don’t at least acknowledge my hard efforts, it hurts me. I keep telling myself to not be so sensitive about certain things, to not listen when people are cruel. But I still hear what they say and I can’t not listen to what I hear.”

Dakota took a tissue from the box and wiped her eyes.

“And I feel stupid when I feel sorry for myself like this because I know that the choices I make are wrong a lot of times. But they’re not always wrong,” Dakota continued, Carolina wrapping her arms around her little sister more tightly. “Still, it doesn’t seem to matter to people whether I’m right or wrong, because in their eyes, I’m always wrong.”

Morgan and Misty shared a silent, knowing glance.

“So after a while, I just stop trying to do what I think other people will see as right. And then, I’m fine for a while. And then I start getting angry. And it starts all over again … the self-destruction that I am known best for,” Dakota said, pausing to sob for a few seconds. “My options become limited and the other options that are still there for me I ignore because I’m already focused in on the best option I can see. Why shouldn’t I want the best for me? But when the best option doesn’t want me that’s when I give up and become a slut and allow myself to be degraded. I figure that way, at least then I would have a reason to feel bad for myself, a reason I could understand.”

“This sounds like a problem with confidence, with a lack of self-esteem and with over-sensitivity to circumstances,” Misty said, helping Dakota to summarize the point.

“Plus our parent were never there for us,” Carolina added.

“Don’t blame them,” Dakota said, riding a train of truth at this point. “Regardless of them, I’ve always had the power to do better for myself and I’ve chosen not to. That’s not Mom and Dad’s fault.”

“Actually, it is … to a certain extent,” Morgan said, Dakota and Carolina looked at him with gaping eyes at how deep his voice was. “Yes, I do speak. And yes, this is my real voice.”

Dakota and Carolina shared a laugh, a much-needed tension breaker of the moment.

“If we were born and instantaneously were self-sufficient with completely-developed brains, problem solving skills and matured reasoning, then there would be no fundamental need for parents,” Morgan explained. “But the reality is: we’re born completely dependent on others. Our motor skills aren’t even developed yet and our minds are sponges for knowledge as well as the things necessary for functionality.”

Dakota and Carolina blinked at all the technical jargon he just threw at them.

“Dakota, not that we wave our credentials in anyone’s face, but the therapy sessions that Morgan and I specialize in are highly recommended and this specific method of emotional repair is very highly successful,” Misty said, taking the conversation lead away from her wordy-yet-factual husband.

“Well, what do these sessions include me doing?” Dakota asked, remaining open to the possibility of it.

“It includes you relaxing, hopefully. Relaxing more deeply than I think you have in a very long time,” Misty explained. “You would spend a connected length of time with us. And in that time, you would listen far more than speak. Sometimes we when stop talking, our minds tend to quiet a little, too. And when that happens, we often begin to hear a few things that everyday noises tend to drown out.”

“How long is the session?” Dakota asked.

“It varies from one person to the next,” Misty answered.

“Well how long does the typical session last?” Dakota asked.

Misty smiled softly.

“We don’t offer up any details about our past or present clients,” Misty answered, not wanting to ignore Dakota’s question but at the same time wanting to set the tone of what Dakota’s relationship would be with Misty and Morgan. “It’s easiest put to say that your session will last as long as it takes. There will be no one in our house but you, me and Mr. Wordy over there.”

Dakota and Carolina laughed, Morgan smiling and rolling his eyes as his wife.

“Well, okay. Let’s say I’m considering it,” Dakota said, sucking in her lips as she always did when in the process of making a decision. “When would we do this?”

“Monday morning we could begin,” Misty answered.

“Since I’m suddenly free next week?” Dakota asked, giving a raised eyebrow look to her big sister.

Carolina grinned.

“All it takes is the signing of a contract,” Misty said, placing the contract papers in front of Dakota on the coffee table. “It’s a straight-forward agreement to remain within our care and under our supervision for the duration of the session. By signing it, you are giving us legal rights to do what we see fit in order to repair your emotions and to help you recover in a manner you may have never contemplated before.”

“Do you guys live far away?” Dakota asked, picking up the contract, Carolina handing her a pen. “And can I have visitors?”

“Twenty minutes and absolutely no visitors,” Misty answered. “But you’ll get to meet someone you haven’t spent any time with in a while.”

“Who?” Dakota asked.

“Yourself,” Misty replied, Dakota taking another tissue out of the box as she placed the contract back down on the coffee table.

And then she signed the agreement.

“What do I need to bring with me?” Dakota asked as everyone stood up. “Wait! You don’t have to leave yet.”

“It looks like there’s going to be a serious Twilight movies marathon going on here tonight,” Morgan said. “And if I don’t get my wife out of here now, she’ll be here until the break of dawn.”

Misty, Dakota and Carolina laughed at his semi-reference to one of the movie titles as they all headed for the front door.

“Dakota, all you need to bring are a few casual outfits and the basic toiletries you would normally bring,” Misty explained.

“Okay,” Dakota said, suddenly looking forward to the opportunity.

“Don’t wear any make-up on Monday, not even the simple foundations we put on to merely walk out to the mailbox,” Misty said.

“Okay,” Dakota said with a laugh.

“But do make certain to bring that laughter and that smile,” Misty said as Morgan opened the front door.

“Should I bring the Twilight movies?” Dakota asked with a giggle.

“Absolutely not,” Morgan said bluntly - all three girls breaking out into laughter.

“Take care of yourself, Dakota,” Misty said, Dakota embracing her. “We’ll see you Monday morning, 9am. Your sister has the address.”

Misty and Morgan left. Dakota and Carolina stood at the front door and watched them until they drove away.

“Okay,” Carolina said. “You go make popcorn. I’m gonna go pee. Twilight movie one begins in two minutes.”

“You betcha,” Dakota said.

Dakota walked into the kitchen, getting a pack of popcorn from the cupboard and putting it in the microwave - wondering what Monday morning would hold for her, how long she would stay with Misty and Morgan … and what life would feel like when lived at full force.





Chapter Three


Monday morning, 9am

Dakota pulled up to the front gate of a residential area that looked very well-to-do, from her initial impressions of it. And as Misty said it would be, it was only a twenty minute drive to get there.

Following the directions Misty had given, Dakota drove through the streets of the residential area, each having a compound name. Taking a left onto Windmill Drive, she looked at all the houses - then realizing that they were condos and also noticing that they were connected in groups of four. Each condo looked slightly different but had the same basic shape. And every one of them had the same light orange brick facing on the outside. This emotional therapy session that Misty and Morgan offered must have been quite profitable for them to be able to live in such a ritzy place. No, Dakota didn’t see any mansions in the residential area, but it didn’t take a genius to recognize that it took a lot of money to live there.

She turned right onto Greenhouse Lane, drove up one block and then turned left onto Stockroom Drive. But her thoughts began to move away from compound road names and fancy homes. Without any reason other than her nearing destination, Dakota began to wonder, once again, what this emotional therapy session would be about. She still couldn’t believe that her sister had arranged this whole thing for her or that she had actually agree to go through with it. But nothing else had seemed to work and her life was falling apart.

Looking at herself in the rear view mirror, Dakota then angled it upward to prevent the temptation of taking another look at herself. The idea of not having any make-up on at all was detrimental to her psyche in itself. It didn’t seem like a good platform for the repair of emotions or the quest to become reacquainted with self-esteem. But then again, maybe that was the point. Being female herself, maybe Misty understood the necessity for Dakota to shed all of those superficial garnishments that women often adorned themselves with, to not just look more attractive but also to feel better about one’s self.

The societal demands of women’s appearances would certainly have no place in this treatment. So maybe it was good that Dakota had no make-up on. But that didn’t mean she was happy about it. And there was no way anyone was going to change her mind about this matter. At least that’s what she thought. And that’s what she kept telling herself.

She had only packed three or four outfits, not knowing what kind of clothing to bring. She got the sense that she wouldn’t be leaving Misty and Morgan’s house for a few days. So her outfits didn’t necessarily need to be anything fantastic. Turning onto Safehaven Lane, the road at the back that drove slightly into the woods behind the residential area, Dakota caught first glimpse of Misty and Morgan’s house.

It seemed so picturesque, like something from a Robert Frost poem - with details that easily could be read but could only be fully appreciate when seen. The driveway was lined with little outdoor lights on either side. There wasn’t a single crack anywhere in the macadam. The front lawn was perfectly manicured and edged, flowers being planted around the trees out front and also along the front edge of the house. It was slightly shaded from the nearby trees, keeping the sun from making it too hot to be outside to enjoy the weather. The whole property was well-maintained and inviting. It was very much the home setting Dakota and her sister had never known.

Parking her car behind the silver Lexus, exactly as the directions had said to do, Dakota took in a deep breath. She looked over at the small walk to the front door, deciding whether she was going to go through with this or not. Misty had stated clearly: “We don’t want to make you do anything you don’t want to do”. So Dakota knew the decision was hers. But once she walked into that house, the agreement she signed would take effect.

Knowing that traveling this far to only now chicken out at the last minute wasn’t going to help anything. Her reason in being there was because she had allowed her life to fall apart and to spiral her out of control. It certainly wouldn’t kill her to walk into the house and try. But to do nothing, to turn the car around and drive away and continue leading a life that was self-destructive - well … that probably would kill her at some point when her roll of the dice came up as snake eyes.

Turning her car off and opening the door, Dakota put her feet down and got out. She got her travel bag from the back seat and started to walk towards the front door before she gave the whole thing another second thought. But there was no time for second thoughts anymore. The decision had been made and there was no turning back.

Slowing her steps down, Dakota looked at the nail polish on her toes and hoped that she wasn’t supposed to have removed the nail polish. It just seemed like an appropriate thing to do when going bare-foot, or in the present case, when wearing sandals and exposing her toes. Her heart pounded in her chest. Oh my, was she nervous. Maybe it wasn’t rational to be so worked up, but it didn’t change how she felt. This was a kept-up property in a beautiful house that was tucked into the woods just behind a fairly ritzy condo community. She was safe. She knew she was safe, but her stomach still welled with butterflies.

Getting to the front door, she paused a second, wanting to ring the doorbell right away but also wanting to run back to her car and drive away. Maybe she could just police herself a little better from now on. Maybe she’d just stop going to the bars for a while since her drinking nights always led to bad decisions and drunken mornings in strange bedrooms. Maybe she’d look for a better job and hopefully, she’d find a better path in life. Maybe this emotional therapy session wasn’t necessary at all.

But before she could talk herself out of going into the house and before she could even turn to run back to her car, the door opened, Dakota having never rang the doorbell at all. And there stood Misty.

“Hello, Dakota. Come in. Come in,” Misty said with the same sweet voice and cheery disposition she always had as she stepped to the side and welcomed Dakota into her house.

“Thank you,” Dakota said, softly and sweetly - exchanging pleasantries with her as she walked into the foyer and began to eye up the inside of the house.

It was just as impressive as the outside. There was a lot of woodwork, from railing and borders on the walls to the staircase to quite a few pieces of furniture she could see as Misty led her into the front living room where Morgan was seated.

“This is a beautiful house,” Dakota said, taking a seat on the end of the sofa and placing her travel bag by the sofa’s side.

“Thank you,” Misty said, sitting on the arm of the chair Morgan was seated in. “We’ve worked very hard to make it exactly what we want it to be.”

“I can’t get over the detail in the wood work everywhere,” Dakota said, looking around the living room.

“That’s all my husband’s doing,” Misty said, stroking her hand across Morgan’s shoulders. “He did it all by hand.”

“You did all of this wood work yourself?” Dakota asked, Morgan smiling and nodding. “That must’ve been a lot of work.”

“Well, it was done systematically,” Morgan explained, Misty standing up and walking into the kitchen. “When you break it down into the components of the process, it just takes time. That’s all.”

“What do you mean?” Dakota asked, only moderately interested but still being polite.

“Well, it’s like everything in life,” Morgan explained. “First, you remove the things you want gone, which in this case was all the warped and aged wood that was in this house. Second, you clean the areas and prep them for new wood. Third, you sculpt the new wood. And finally, you install it.”

“Before we moved into this house, we lived in a tiny cottage-like place about an hour from here,” Misty explained, returning with a tray of kettle tea - sitting down on the other side of the sofa and setting the tray on the coffee table. “At that place, we had a wood shed that Morgan converted into a wood shop. And it was there that he spent countless hours chiseling and sanding the wood you see everywhere.”

Dakota looked wide-eyed up at all the woodwork and then, just as wide-eyed at Morgan.

“That’s unbelievable,” Dakota said.

“That’s my husband,” Misty said proudly as she poured Dakota a cup of tea.

“It’s no big deal,” Morgan said, turning the attention away from himself.

“He’s terribly humble, isn’t he?” Misty said to Dakota, sharing a little girl talk as she handed Dakota a cup of the tea.

“What kind of tea is this?” Dakota asked, sniffing its steam and then gently blowing on the surface of the tea.

“It’s chamomile tea,” Misty said, pouring a cup for herself and for Morgan. “It has herbs in it that calm the stomach as well as mild anxiety. I thought it might help you since it looked like you were having trouble making the decision to come in.”

Dakota smiled admittingly and then took a sip of the tea.

“I can understand why you hesitated,” Misty said, helping to ease the girl’s nerves a bit more. “It’s never easy to accept help that, in reality, you may not actually need something.”

“Yeah,” Dakota said, then sipping from the tea again before continuing. “I thought about maybe doing a few things differently in my life. You know, with the choices I make.”

“Good,” Misty said, setting her cup of tea down on the coffee table. “That’s actually step number one: making the decision to take new action. It doesn’t mean anything needs to be omitted from your life. Most people don’t do well with sudden and exacting changes. But sometimes, just taking a slightly different approach can make all the difference in the world.”

Dakota smiled again. Wow. This was a lot more comforting than she thought it would be. Neither Misty nor Morgan was pushy about anything. Perhaps this emotional therapy session wouldn’t be so bad, after all.

Misty stood up and, with Morgan’s help, slid the coffee table further away from the front of the sofa.

“Honey, would you take her bag up to her room?” Misty asked, Morgan picking up Dakota’s bag and walking it upstairs. “You see how well I have him trained?”

Both she and Dakota lightly laughed.

“I hear you two laughing,” Morgan called down from his climb of the staircase.

Misty and Dakota laughed harder.

“Here. Lift your feet for a moment,” Misty said, Dakota lifting up her feet as Misty reached under the sofa and slid out a plush yoga mat, blue in color with a vinyl cover.

“Do you do yoga?” Dakota asked sweetly.

“Yes, every morning,” Misty said, taking a seat on the mat and folding her legs into the lotus position. “Every morning, I would like you to do yoga with me as well.”

“Okay,” Dakota agreed, then realizing that Misty was talking about doing yoga with her just then.

So Dakota set her cup of tea down and stepped out of her sandals before taking a seat on the mat and getting into the lotus position as well.

“I hope you don’t mind that I didn’t take my nail polish off,” Dakota said.

“That’s fine,” Misty said quickly, answering the girl’s question but also wanting her to begin to focus on the yoga. “What I want you to do is straighten you spine, square away your shoulders, and place your hands comfortably on your knees. Then close your eyes and breathe deeply.”

Dakota followed Misty’s lead, straightening herself, breathing in deeply and closing her eyes. She exhaled slowly and deeply, then taking in another breath and exhaling again. And for a few minutes, that was all they did: breathing deeply and calmly - the open-mouthed sounds of air flow being the only noises in the room.

“Whenever I feel stress coming on, this is what I do,” Misty said softly and slowly, continuing to breath. “It grounds me, helps me to focus on the current things in my life - the things that matter and the things I have the ability to do something about.”

A few more minutes went by and Dakota honestly had to admit to herself that she did indeed feel better. It was rare that she remained so perfectly still while also remaining peaceful inside.

“Now I want you to open your eyes slowly,” Misty said, she and Dakota opening their eyes. “Good. Now raise your right arm straight up in the air and place your left palm flat on your left knee.”

Dakota did as she asked.

“Now exhale deeply,” Misty said, showing the motions. “And bend to your left while inhaling deeply.”

Keeping her right arm straight in the air, Dakota bent to her left, inhaling deeply as she felt her neck and spine crack in several places.

“Now bend back up straight and exhale deeply,” Misty instructed, doing the motions with her, Dakota exhaling while feeling places in her neck and spine cracking again as she returned to an upright, centered posture. “Now do all of that again from the other side. Close your eyes this time.”

Dakota closed her eyes, lowering her right arm, placing her right palm on her right knee and raising her left arm. Inhaling deeply, she bent to her right and then exhaled deeply as she returned to an upright, centered posture.

“Now raise both arms straight up. Inhale,” Misty instructed as Dakota followed. “Good girl. Now exhale.”

And as Dakota exhaled, Morgan took hold of the lower hem of her baby-t and lifted it straight up - the t-shirt coming up and off her frame, up and offer her stretching arms before the girl ever had a chance to react.

But react she certainly would do, and in short order.

“Hey!” Dakota shouted, spinning around to face Morgan and beginning to get up. “Give me my shirt back, you jerk!”

“Dakota, relax,” Misty said with a calm voice as she took hold of the girl’s bra strap to unfasten the hooks and eyes.

But before she could unfasten them, Dakota turned around to face her, flailing her arms to break free of Misty’s grip.

“Get off of me!” Dakota screamed, appalled at what was happening.

Then Morgan quickly knelt down behind her, reached around to the front of her body, grabbed the girl’s wrists, crossed her arms in front of her body and pulled her hands back along the sides of her rib cages.

“I hate doing this, every time,” Morgan said to Misty.

“Sweetheart, you know that some people have to start this way,” Misty said to him, kneeling up and reaching over to the end table along the far side of the sofa to slide out a hand bag with a flowery design on the outside of it.

“I’m leaving. I’m getting out of here. Let me go,” Dakota said with a suddenly calm voice, hoping that if she stopped yelling Morgan might release his firm grasps of her wrists and release her from the restraint position.

But he wasn’t letting go and from the sight of the black leather bracelet things Misty had taken out of the handbag, it seemed Dakota wasn’t going to be going anywhere at all.

“Get off me. I wanna go home,” Dakota said, struggling to break free of Morgan’s grip while kicking her legs to keep Misty from getting anywhere near her with whatever those black bracelets things were.

“Please don’t fight us, Dakota. You’re going to get yourself worked up and then you will exhaust all the energy in your body,” Misty said to Dakota pleadingly, but Dakota had no intentions of cooperating. “Turn her over.”

Misty sighed softly as she watched Morgan turn Dakota over onto her belly, still keeping her arms in the cross-bodied restraint. Straddling her, he clamped her legs together with his shins and sat down on the back of her thighs to keep her from kicking.

That was when Dakota really started screaming.

“HELP! HEEEEEEEELLPP!” Dakota shrieked, Misty setting the black leather bracelets down and reaching into the handbag again.

She took out what looked like a mouth guard, like two football mouth pieces that were attached to one another and on the end of this thing was a round spout-like device. The whole contraption had leather straps tied to either side of it. As Morgan kept Dakota restrained, her belly and frame pinned to the yoga mat, Misty timed the placement of this mouthpiece gag with the girl’s screams. When Dakota screamed, she had to open her mouth to do so. And this gave Misty the chance to slip the gag between the girl’s lips and into her mouth.

“HE- … ugh!” Dakota screamed, only to be cut off by the gag’s entrance into her mouth.

She was immediately forced to breathe through her nose as the gag had a guard on the front of it so wide that it kept her from breathing through the mouth. Dakota could feel the rubber mouth pieces as they nestled around her upper and lower teeth. It really was like a football mouth piece that was intended to protect the teeth, but it was also kind of like those mouth guards that a dentist would put around your teeth if he wanted to take an x-ray of your roots or an impression of your bite. Whatever it was similar to, it shut Dakota up instantly. But it didn’t stop the girl from thrashing as hard as she could to break out from underneath Morgan’s pinning position of her.

The only problem was: Morgan was very strong and no matter how frantically she thrashed, she wasn’t breaking free at all. The only thing she actually accomplished was to quickly fatigue herself, draining the energy right out of her body - exactly as Misty said would happen.

“You need to settle yourself, baby,” Misty said with an obvious tone that vocalized how upsetting this was for her as she pulled the two lengths of leather on either side of the gag around to the back of Dakota’s head - triple-tying the ends together.

Baby? Had Misty just called her Baby? The honeys and the sweethearts worked just fine when Misty was talking to her semi-muted, wood shop husband. But why had she called Dakota … Baby?

Morgan pulled up on his grip of Dakota’s hands, clasping her fingers only to allow Misty room to fasten the black leather bracelets around Dakota’s wrists. It was then Dakota realized they were wrist cuffs and each cuff had several metal loops attached to it. Misty connected the cuffs together with a pair of metal hand cuffs that spanned the distance of the girl’s back.

Then Misty unfastened the bra strap between Dakota’s shoulder blades, this causing Dakota to begin to thrash again until that burning sensation of fatigue entered into her upper arms and thighs once more - causing her to stop for relief from the pain. Disconnecting each of the shoulder straps from the back strap, Misty disassembled Dakota’s bra - ensuring the girl would be bare-chested when she was allowed up from her pinned position on the yoga mat.

“You have to learn to give this a chance,” Misty said, reaching underneath and around to the front of Dakota’s waist as she unfastened the button of the girl’s short shorts - lowering the zipper.

As the shorts were slid down her legs, Dakota began to thrash again - her feet kicking so wildly that Misty had to back up to prevent being kicked by the girl. Sensing what needed to happen, though he had no desire to do it at all, Morgan grabbed Dakota’s shoulders and moved her torso over onto the middle cushion of the sofa. Her knees touched the yoga mat and with a simple hand placement to the center of her back, she was incapable of sitting up - for the restraint bondage of her arms. She was incapable of alerting anyone who might’ve been near the house - for the gag in her mouth and for the distance the house had from the nearest neighbor.

What started as a pleasant surprise from what Dakota expected had quickly turned into a nightmare unimaginable. What did Misty and Morgan want from her? This couldn’t have been some sort of tough love therapy, could it? Dakota panicked. She had to get out there.

“Dakota, you’re not going anywhere,” Morgan said, sitting alongside her on the sofa and placing the lower half of his right leg to her hamstrings - pinning the top half of her legs to the front of the sofa. “There is no reason to be fighting like this.”

Misty quickly yanked the shorts off the girl’s legs. Morgan took hold of the waist line at the back of the girl’s panties and yanked them down to her knees, moving his leg out of the way temporarily for Misty to slide the panties the rest of the way off the girl’s legs.

Then he placed his left hand a bit more firmly on the small of her back, raising his right hand up and swing it down to connect with her bare bottom. Initially, it was the shock of being spanked that shocked Dakota’s senses. She hadn’t been spanked in a long time, not as long of a time as most, unfortunately, since her father would take his belt to her bottom until she was almost fifteen. But nonetheless, Dakota startled at that first smack from his hand and then instantaneously found new strength from adrenaline to attempt to struggle free.

She mumbled all the noise she could make with a gagged mouth. In her head, she was screaming please help me as loud as she could. But in reality, she was only making a few muttered sounds. And before muscle fatigue set in again, she was going to attempt to escape. Yes, her mouth was gagged, her arms were restrained and she was naked from head to toe. But if she could get out the house and just make it to the end of the driveway, then someone would surely see her.

And for as much as she had planned out how she would get away, the truest reality of it all still remained. Morgan had her torso pinned to the middle cushion of the sofa. His right leg kept her thighs pressed against the front of the sofa and Misty had now crossed the girl’s ankles, keeping her from repeating her previous habit of kicking.

Morgan lifted his right hand and swung down, smacking her bare bottom again - this time with such force that her whole body rocked forward … pushed all the way back up onto the sofa and eliminating the small amount of successful movement that wiggling had done.

He spanked her again and again and again, keeping the same force each time and making certain to deliver the strike to the exact same spot - squarely across both of her cheeks. This was the moment when her eyes starting welling with tears. She was mumbling continuously and her mind was driving her towards a full-blown panic attack.

Every time his right palm connected with her bottom, she winced, sinking her teeth into the silicone of the mouth pieces. Though she was unraveling inside, she maintained her composure for quite a while - given the circumstances. But it was when Morgan’s arm began to tire and when the sting had traveled as deeply into the meat of her bottom as it could that she made her next wrong decision. The smacks no longer affected her as they first had, her bottom having gone numb and having built resistance for protection. So, instead of trying to get away, she simply tried to avoid further deliveries from his hand.

He would swing once and she would shift her hips, only feeling the tips of his fingers in the missed strike. He would miss again and again until he realized that she was no longer feeling any pain and therefore was no longer learning the lesson. So he shifted his strike zone down, then aiming for the very base of her bottom - where it connected to the top of her hamstrings. Her sit spots became his new bull’s eye target.

In order to strike her sit spots, he had to take his right leg away from her hamstrings. This gave Dakota the ability to move and wiggle quite a bit. So Misty attached leather cuffs to the girl’s ankles, similar to the ones on the girl’s wrists. Connecting the ankle cuffs together with the metal loops at the sides, Misty stood up and lifted the girl’s bound feet off the ground. Dakota’s kneeling position turned into one where the top half of her body was still lying on the sofa, belly down. And now, her legs were not only stretched straight out but Misty held her legs in mid-air - eliminating all ability for the girl to wiggle.

Morgan concentrated his smacks to the very top edges of the girl’s hamstrings - being careful to not bruise the girl or injure her, but at the same time, making certain each delivery had maximum force and sting.

Dakota stopped screaming into the gag. She stopped mumbling and she stopped wiggling. Her body became rigid and she began crying uncontrollably. Tears streamed down her face as if they were droplets of water falling from a leaky faucet. The numbness soon consumed the entire back of her legs, down to her knees. And the numbness of her bottom had traveled its way up to her lower lumbar.

Morgan finally stopped spanking her and caught his breath. Misty returned Dakota’s knees to the yoga mat and sat on the other side of the sofa to reason with the inconsolable girl.

“Baby, don’t keep doing this to yourself,” Misty said, tucking Dakota’s hair behind her right ear.

Dakota looked at her, seeing the tear-stained eyes Misty also had.

“It hurts me to see you fighting like this,” Misty said with a shaky voice, beginning to pet the girl’s hair. “I want nothing more than to reach inside your heart and take out all the pain that afflicts you every day. But I can’t do that. All I can do is hope you will accept our help.”

Dakota laid her head back down, closing her eyes and beginning to cry so heavily that her entire body shook with each heave for air.

“Look at you. You’ve gotten all upset, just like Mommy said you would,” Misty whispered sweetly, continuing to stroke the girl’s hair.

Mommy? Had she just referred to herself as Mommy? What was that supposed to mean?

“Baby,” Misty said with a sweet voice, Dakota opening her eyes again and looking up at her. “Do you want Daddy to take his belt off and continue?”

Horror quickly filled Dakota’s eyes just as fully as her tears did. She shook her head no. No, she definitely didn’t want Morgan to take his belt off and continue.

“Then you need to behave,” Misty said with sweetness. “You need to be a good girl.”

Oh my. Dakota’s head spun with overload. These names: Baby, Mommy, Daddy. What did they mean? Why was Misty using them?

“Will you be a good girl from now on?” Misty asked with an almost song-like quality to her tone as she ever-so-gently ran her hand up and down Dakota’s beet-red bottom.

Dakota’s mind began to travel in and out of the moment. But she kept her senses enough to nod her head yes.

“That’s a good girl,” Misty said with sugary sweetness, gently patting the girl’s bottom. “Lie down on the yoga mat. It’s okay.”

As fearful as a child in the dark, Dakota knelt up and then eased down onto her back on the yoga mat with help from Misty’s caring arms. She looked over at Morgan who had taken a seat on the floor next to the yoga mat.

“Be a good girl, Dakota,” Morgan said to her with that deep-timbre of his voice.

It was then that Dakota blushed her first bit of embarrassment. She was completely naked and lying there in front of Morgan. But further embarrassment was on the way for her.

Lifting her head up to see what Misty was doing, Dakota couldn’t believe what she saw her taking out of the handbag.





Chapter Four


Monday morning, 10:00am

A diaper? Really? Was that really what Misty had just taken out of the handbag?

Misty set the white disposable undergarment next to Dakota on the yoga mat. Dakota stared at it with eyes great big and wide. This wasn’t therapy. It was a freakish hallucination. It had to be. What? Did Misty intend to put that diaper on Dakota? And did Misty and Morgan expect her to actually wear it? Oh God, to use it? Were they going to keep her bound and naked for such a length of time that she would have to use the bathroom before this incarceration ended?

Misty next took a pink plastic container of baby wipes out of the handbag and then a container of baby powder.

This wasn’t happening. No way. No how. No, sir. She began shaking her head, fighting back the sniffles as she did so. Morgan rose up on his knees, reaching down to his waist and unfastening his thick brown leather belt. Slowly, he pulled it out from inside the loops of his pants. And as he did so, Dakota lightly shook. The thought of a belt striking her already sore bottom was a bit nerve-wracking, to say the least. And though she still had a lot of fight within her, at that moment she paused to contemplate her options. Soon she would realize, however, there was only one option available for her.

Misty took hold of the ankle cuffs with her left hand, lifting the girl’s legs up and doubling them back. With her hands still restrained by the wrists and connected to one another behind her back with a pair of metal hand cuffs, Dakota kept her eyes on Morgan. With horrid fear, she watched him fold the leather belt in half and then grip it in his right hand. She startled back to the present when she felt her bent knees touching her chest. Misty had folded the girl’s body in half and now with a reddened bottom being presented as a target, she mumbled her pleas for him to not strike her with the belt. Her eyes welled with tears and she heaved for as much air as two nostrils could take in at a time.

“It’s okay, baby,” Misty said, kneeling on the yoga mat and scooting herself up towards Dakota’s back side. “Just be a good girl and everything will become so much easier for you.”

That was it. There wasn’t anything more that Dakota could stand hearing without losing her mind. She kicked her bound ankles free from Misty’s grasp, flopping her legs over in the direction of Morgan - thusly, turning her bottom away from the threat of his strike. Misty pinned the girl’s legs down, holding the girl on her side as Morgan put the belt down and got behind Dakota. He unfastened the metal hand cuffs from the wrist restraints and immediately took hold of the girl’s wrists. Not missing the opportunity to possibly get away, Dakota threw her arms straight out at her sides as she sat up - preventing Morgan from connecting her wrists cuffs together before he got the chance. But he held onto both of her wrists as Misty held onto the girl’s ankles.

Sitting up and facing Misty with Morgan behind her, Dakota tried flailing her arms about to free them from his grasp … to no avail.

“Baby,” Misty said softly, Dakota looking at her and Misty smiling at how the girl was now responding automatically to the name. “You’re gonna get all worked up again and you’re gonna tucker out, just like before.”

Dakota squinted her eyes, sinking her teeth into the mouth guards as she tried to control her anger. People had pushed her before, not anything close to the current way she was being pushed - but very much the same in sentiment. Dakota had never reacted kindly to being forced to do anything she didn’t want to do. Still completely clueless as to why Misty and Morgan had stripped her naked, spanked her and bound her, she wasn’t thinking as rationally as she normally would have. But her determination and need for independence had never been more resolved.

Wiggling her legs, her arms and her torso while making the most horrific sounding squeaks imaginable from behind her mouth gag, Dakota began a battle that was most unlikely to end in her favor.

“Baby, this isn’t helping you to get better inside,” Misty said with that consistent sweetness in her voice.

Dakota screamed into her mouth gag, mumbles being the only discernible noise she made. Oh, how audacious to suggest that Dakota was sick in any way - albeit emotional, mental or in whatever way Misty meant it when she said inside!

Dakota struggled harder, fighting through the pains of fatigue but not freeing her wrists or her ankles. And though it seemed she was tiring once again, she wasn’t tiring quickly enough this time for another bit of understanding to sink in for her. So, Morgan pinned her wrists to the yoga mat, forcing the girl down onto her back - Misty continuing to hold the restrained and connected ankles. And when on her back, Dakota found a loss of movement in her arms that enabled Morgan to draw her hands up above her head and to connect the wrist cuffs.

Dakota squealed when this happened, then closing her eyes and beginning to shed new tears. She was beginning to register the eventual truth that she wasn’t going to get her way and inevitably, she would stop struggling for loss of energy. Only Heaven knew for sure if she would wind up in that diaper or not when she finally gave up the fight.

“Fussy girl,” Misty said sweetly with a tone that made Dakota feel very small. “How much longer are you going to keep this up?”

But Dakota was a survivor. Yes, she would eventually stop, but only after every ounce of energy was gone. And that poor naked girl drained just that out of her body … every last ounce until she was so exhausted she went limp all over. She came to rest on the blue yoga mat without any more physical fuss … for the moment, at least.

“Now, let’s try this again,” Misty said, taking the girl’s ankle cuffs in her left hand a second time and lifting her legs up in the air - Dakota opening her watery eyes as she once again felt her knees touching her chest.

Misty reached for the pink plastic container of baby wipes, opening the top and taking one out.

“Emotional therapy deals with more than just emotions. It deals with everything that’s happening on the inside of you,” Misty said, touching the cool wipe to Dakota’s reddened bottom - Dakota wincing and gasping for air before allowing herself to mellow into the relief the coolness brought to her enflamed skin. “See? That’s not so bad, is it?”

“Emotions are the culmination of how we feel, of how we have been treated, of what has happened to us, of how we were affected and of how we have chosen to deal with the events of life,” Misty said softly and sweetly, taking a second wipe to the girl’s bottom and then to the top of the backs of the girl’s hamstrings - Dakota melting slightly at the relief from pain. “But therapy is the treatment of things within that have become too much for us to handle alone. It’s a joint effort between us and the people who are here to help.”

Misty reached for the diaper, picking it up and unfolding it. Dakota blushed an embarrassment she didn’t even understand. How humiliating was this going to be? And why a diaper? What element of emotional therapy would a diaper represent?

Misty unfolded the diaper completely, touching its soft inner thickness to her tender, affected bottom. Dakota felt a degree of dizziness wash over her vision. But my, oh my, the diaper was soft. And how wonderful it felt, indeed.

“Therapy often treats imbalances as diseases, calling them disorders in medical books. But you don’t have a disorder, baby,” Misty said with continuing sweetness as she placed the diaper flat to the yoga mat, sliding the back waist line of it up to Dakota’s lower lumbar line. “What you have is a simple case of an abundant feeling of being overwhelmed while having no opportunities to find balance again.”

Misty picked up the container of baby powder, twisting the top and pouring a liberal amount of the powder into her right palm.

“So the best way to help someone who feels hopelessly inundated is to take away the things that are making her feel so swamped in life,” Misty said, touching the palm-full of powder to Dakota’s left bottom cheek and caressing it across to the right.

Dakota closed her eyes again, the tears that were welled in her eyelids streaming down from the corners of her eyes. And she whimpered once, ever-so-softly and ever-so-gently. Oh my, Misty not only knew what to say but she also knew how to be very gentle.

“That’s my baby,” Misty said with maternal sweetness as she reached up to Dakota’s face with her left hand and wiped the tears off the girl’s temples with caressing finger tips. “Soon, you won’t have a reason to cry anymore. So when you shed tears in the future, you’ll no longer know why. And that’s a really big first step to take … letting go of those things that make you feel hopeless, that overwhelm you and that hold you down.”

Dakota smiled at the thought, for as much as a gagged mouth would allow her to smile.

“Morgan and I will take care of everything you need on the outside and this will take the overwhelmed feeling away, leaving you the time to begin to piece together why your emotions seem broken,” Misty said, picking up another wipe and leaning back into a kneel. “Lower your legs, baby. And place your feet flat on the yoga mat.”

Dakota slowly brought her legs down, placing her feet on the mat.

“That’s a good girl,” Misty said with sugary sweetness. “You’re doing very well. Mommy is very proud of you.”

Misty placed both of her hands on Dakota’s bent knees.

“Open your legs, baby,” Misty said sweetly, Dakota opening her eyes and looking up at her with a gaze of lost helplessness. “It’ll be okay. Listen to Mommy and do what Mommy tells you to do.”

Dakota trembled, not wanting to give up control of her free will. But at the same time - the more control she gave up, the better she felt. She had already gathered the sense that if she listened, she would be taken care of and taken care of in a manner that was very, very alluring. She could already sense the deep-rooted nurturing within Misty’s nature. And it seemed Dakota was the present focus of that nurturing. All indications of logic were telling her to just go with it. Yet still, she was hesitant. It wasn’t easy, giving it all up.

“Show Mommy how well a good girl can listen,” Misty said with a whispered sugariness that brought a tingly sensation across Dakota’s frame. “Trust Mommy and you will find the happiness you seem to have misplaced.”

Dakota slowly opened her knees, blushing embarrassment again as she parted her thighs and exposed herself. Misty picked up the container of powder and sprinkled an even more liberal amount of powder onto the girl’s center than what was caressed across her bottom.

“That’s my sweet little angel,” Misty said with such pleasantness that Dakota felt herself slipping into a trance. “That’s my good little BabyGirl. There she is, at last.”

And it was that moment when it registered fully in Dakota’s mind what this nurturing treatment was about. That was why Misty was calling her baby. That was why Misty referred to herself as Mommy and Morgan as Daddy. This not only was a part of the basis of the therapy she was receiving, but it was in fact, the entire basis of it.

Returning to a need for freedom, Dakota’s eyes grew big and wide. Detecting the forthcoming struggle, Misty leaned over and rested her forearms on the girl’s inner thighs - thus preventing her from closing her legs. And Dakota did indeed renew the battle, trying to squirm to get away but remaining restrained and pinned down on both ends of her body. But this time, Misty verbally ignored the battle - instead choosing to continue the tender treatment of the diapering.

“It’s okay, baby,” Misty said, keeping the girl’s thighs spread apart as she took hold of the front of the diaper and began to fold it up into place. “Everything will be so much better when you’re wrapped in a softness you will feel all the time.”

Dakota struggled as much as she could, but had little ability to do so for having fatigued her limbs already. So, though she fought in spirit, she could no longer do the same, physically. Helplessly, she watched Misty fasten the tapes of the diaper at her hips. The sounds of those tapes being opened made a strange noise, not awkward in tone but still foreign to her - as if they didn’t belong in her ears at all. But regardless, she still heard them as they ushered in a snugness around her waist that felt just as foreign, itself.

“There ya go,” Misty said, patting the underside of Dakota’s diaper in a very loving, gentle manner. “Now everything is as it should be. All betters.”

Dakota looked up at her and then over to Morgan, both of whom were smiling, not in some sadistic fashion - but rather, in a way that made clear how pleased they were to see her embracing acceptance. Albeit a momentary bit of serenity, it was still the initial sign of progress having begun. Yes, she had a long haul ahead of her, but they would make certain she got to the destination. And along the way, when she fell, they would pick her back up.

Shifting her hips, Dakota did her best to adjust to the strange feeling of thick material at her center. Obviously, it was quite different from panties - in physical feel but also in ways she couldn’t yet put to words or even put into concrete thoughts. The diaper was soft and it enveloped her center with a cozy, close fit. The powder felt a bit weird, despite how soothing it was and how sweet it smelled. But it was the crinkle of that plastic outer shell that was making powerful the dizziness inside her head. It really wasn’t a dizziness in the sense of equilibrium. More so, it was a dizziness of her senses - as if the norm had been realigned and everything she felt accustomed to was now suddenly without understandable order.

“Up ya go! Up! Up!” Misty said with animation, extending her hands out to Dakota and encouraging the girl to sit up as Morgan released his grip of her restrained wrists.

Spinning inside, Dakota sat up, not sure whether to fear the current invite or to welcome it. And when she sat up, Misty embraced her - gently but still firmly. Misty was warm, as if a maternal chord had struck within her and triggered the abundance of sweetness in her caring touches, in her tender tone and in her loving words.

“What a good little girl you are,” Misty whispered with sweetness, running her left hand up and down Dakota’s naked back. “You make Mommy very happy when you listen … and when you smile … and when you learn.”

Dakota’s brain turned to mush, only for a short time but certainly in a complete manner. Not only was Misty laying the Mommy thing on thickly, but the bulk between Dakota’s legs was throwing the girl for a loop. She couldn’t actually close her legs like normal and a mighty wide thigh gap was certain to accompany, her wherever she went … at least while she was diapered anyway.

“Hold your hands up for Daddy,” Misty instructed her, Dakota sitting back from the embrace and holding up both of her hands - her wrists still connected by the locking bracelet cuffs. “That’s a good girl. Mommy is so proud of you … so very, very proud of you, baby.”

The slightest sense of happiness came across Dakota’s eyes as she began to realize how Misty and Morgan had helped her work through one of her outbursts. Her problem solving skills had been lacking for quite some time and when she couldn’t get through certain situations, she would go off the deep-end, doing something very harmful to herself.

Though she received a spanking along the way, some restraints, a mouth gag and even a diaper, Dakota had come out on the other side of an emotion that didn’t overwhelm her for once. It was therapy, positive in effect and certain to be repeated. Misty and Morgan had some rather unorthodox methods, but clearly knew what they were doing.

Morgan unfastened the cuff around Dakota’s left wrist, the girl beaming with a glow that would’ve also included a smile - had she not been gagged with a mouth piece. The cuff loosened and Dakota shifted her hips, hearing the crinkle of her diaper and blushing another bit of embarrassment as she closed her eyes and allow that emotion to pass as well.

Thinking the restraints were going to come off, she kept her hands raised in an effort to assist the removal of her shackles. But instead of feeling her left hand freed of the cuff, she instead felt her hand being inserted into some type of rubber covering. Well … it felt rubbery, at least. Opening her eyes, she looked at the mitt-like device on her left hand and then back to Misty with confusion. Trying to yank her left hand away from Morgan, Dakota saw the second mitt in Misty’s hands - being prepared for her right hand.

“These are for your own good, baby,” Misty said with sincerity but also with the same sweetness she always used when speaking to Dakota.

Dakota shook her head no and tried to pull her left hand away again, but not before Morgan slid the loosened cuff back up into place on the girl’s left wrists - reattaching it around the bottom of the mitt and making it impossible to get the mitt off her left hand.

“Be a good girl for Mommy,” Misty said to Dakota, readying the second mitt as Morgan took hold of the girl’s right forearm - readying to loosen the cuff on her right wrist.

Dakota sat there, suddenly not certain how to feel at all. The mitts instantly represented a loss of rights and she thought back to her spanking, her battle with them physically - wondering if there was going to be more restrictions added while things continued to be taken away from her.

“I can see the confusion in your eyes,” Misty said, sliding the second mitt onto the girl’s right hand, Morgan then reattaching the cuff at the mitt’s lower edge - making this mitt just as impossible to take off as the other one. “Listen and Mommy will explain.”

Morgan handed Misty the metal hand cuffs, Misty then detaching the links of the girl’s ankle cuffs and reconnecting them with the metal hand cuffs in between. This gave Dakota a slight bit of relief as her feet were no longer forced to remain right up against each other, but the girl was all abuzz now with the newest realization that, not only were her restraints not going to be taken off just then, but she might be restrained for quite some time to come. Walking was going to be challenging for her and the end suddenly seemed confusing to her.

What was the destination, the purpose, the goal, whatever it needed to be called?

“You will receive what you need when you need it,” Misty said with a continued syrupy-sweet tone, contrasting the physical dominance she was showing. “You will receive what you want … as you earn it.”

And the therapy of her emotions began to accelerate.

Dakota sat there on the yoga mat - gagged, restrained at wrists and ankles, diapered, her hands in mitts and her mind in a blitzed state. Misty reached into the handbag again and took out two of the cutest little booties Dakota had ever seen. She would have thought them cuter still had she not suspected she would be wearing them shortly.

Wanting to flip out again, Dakota declined her own wishes - instead allowing Misty to put the booties on her feet. They were soft, made of wide-fibered cotton. And they were a soft pink, just like the mitts on her hands, just like the blush of embarrassment on her face and likely the color her bottom still bore - the remnants of a behavior-modifying spanking. Now Dakota knew why Misty didn’t mind that she had shown up with nail polish on her toes and fingers. What more was going to happen to her? This just kept getting stranger and stranger.

But the final straw was about to be introduced to her, or rather, she was about to be introduced to it.

“Upsies!” Misty said with animation as she and Morgan took hold of Dakota’s mitted hands and bent elbows - helping the girl stand up onto her now bootie-covered feet.

Dakota looked down at her waist, already sensing how the diaper was going to affect her movements. Lowering her chin but looking up at Misty for instructions, she awaited what next she was told to do.

“Follow Mommy and Daddy,” Misty said, encouraging Dakota to follow Morgan in the direction of the staircase. “It’s time we showed you which room is yours.”

Dakota looked down at her feet, ankles restrained in cuffs and the cuffs connected to each other by a pair of metal handcuffs. While the metal handcuffs gave her the ability to space her feet apart in a normal stance, they wouldn’t allow her to take very big steps at all. Looking up at Misty, Dakota gave her a pleading look to unlock her feet. But from the glow in Misty’s eyes, Dakota could tell that her feet wouldn’t know freedom any time soon.

“It’s okay, baby. We’ll go slowly,” Misty said, softly and supportively - patting Dakota’s diapered bottom and making the girl take a step forward. “That’s it. Just one little step at a time.”

For as simple as it seemed, this wasn’t going to be easy. And Dakota wasn’t just thinking about walking in restraints, in that regard. It was the whole thing, this whole emotional therapy thing. She never liked being told what to do and she certainly didn’t like to be forced to do anything. But maybe she knew she had exhausted all other avenues. And the real truth of it all was: Dakota wasn’t going to do anything to help herself until she was forced to. Her sister had set this therapy session up. Misty and Morgan were seeing it through. And Dakota was actually grateful for the intervention. There wasn’t likely any time in the near future when she would admit to this or say thank you or even have the ability to speak, it seemed, at this point. But she had her limits, like everyone and she was quickly being pushed to meet them.

Each shackled step did get a little easier. Each restriction and new additive was being accepted and adopted. And her diaper kept crinkling, all along the way. Her steps, small and belabored, were accompanied by a waddle that kept throwing off her balance. The diaper was fastened around her so tightly that it moved exactingly with the movement of her hips, making it impossible to have grace in stride. Dakota could now clearly understand why babies waddled. And from the bulk gathering of material between her legs, she could understand why their legs always bowed a little bit.

Lifting her head up, Dakota saw Morgan standing at the bottom of the staircase, luckily just a few more steps away. Crinkling, waddling and practically shuffling her feet, she made it over to him - somewhat exhausted from the short stroll.

“Now take hold of Daddy’s hand and Mommy’s hand. And we’ll help you up the stairs,” Misty instructed her, Dakota lifting her mitts up.

Morgan took hold of her left hand and Misty took hold of her right. And Dakota sighed before lifting her right foot up, barely able to get it to the first step. Morgan and Misty lined up along either side of her as she began to slowly climb the staircase with them.

Oh, how embarrassing this was and how ridiculous she felt. But then again, this wasn’t nearly as bad as all those mornings when she would wake up in a stranger’s bed - climbing out the bedroom window before they woke up and scaling the fire escapes to get down out of their apartments … popping the morning after pill in her mouth as she made her exodus.

“That’s a good girl. One little step at a time,” Misty repeated sweetly, then looking over at Morgan. “Isn’t she adorable?”

Morgan nodded and smiled, his usual non-verbal forms of communication.

“What a good girl you’re being,” Misty said to her with such syrupy sweetness that Dakota felt those tingles she only ever got when receiving certain types of attention.

It seemed odd that Dakota would feel anything pleasant from this experience. But given the circumstances - of what had already happened and of what was likely yet to come - she wasn’t being picky about what made her feel good on the inside. And with those tingles fueling her onward, a crinkly diaper making her waddle and blush, Dakota was beginning to grow just a bit more accustomed to a therapy session she would never be able to explain to anyone.

Dakota reached the top of the staircase, breathing heavily through her nose and a bit exhausted from the climb. Immediately she was embraced by Misty, receiving a series of gentle pats to her diapered bottom.

“What a good baby you are,” Misty said, taking hold of her mitted hands and leading her down the upstairs hallway, heading towards the first door on the right. “Mommy’s little diaper girl.”

Dakota lowered her chin, waddling along and feeling a rush of sensations in her tummy - as if she was being overwhelmed with a good emotion. Well, that was a nice change of pace. And though she was still trying to catch her breath, Dakota was about to have her breath taken away completely. And she had no idea it was about to happen.

Morgan opened the first door on the right and the brightness of sunshine pouring out of the room caught the girl’s attention. There must have been an enormous bay window in that room to allow such amounts of sunshine to cascade all the way though the room and into the hallway. Indeed, she was right. There was a bay window in that room, bigger than what she had imagined. But it wasn’t the bay window that stopped the waddling girl in her tracks.

Being led into the room by Misty, Dakota allowed herself to be directed onto the circular rug in the center of the room before she overcame the state of denial her vision had put her in. Staring at everything in that room with eyes great big and wide, Dakota blinked again and again and again, even rubbing her eyes with her mitt-covered hands once or twice to make certain what she was seeing was real.

“This is your room, baby,” Misty said cheerfully, Dakota thinking otherwise.

It was a nursery, complete with every conceivable things needed to take care of a baby. There was a changing table, a rocking chair, a dresser, a closet that was likely filled with all sorts of clothing. There was so much more, including a crib … an absolutely enormous crib.

Dakota immediately freaked out, turning and waddling quickly back toward the door. But Morgan wrapped his arms around her, preventing her from escaping but not preventing her from thrashing.

And thrash she did, with all the might she could muster. But, given the series of energy-draining struggles she had had already that morning, it didn’t take her long to give up. Still, she flailed her bound wrists, cracking Morgan on the left side of his forehead.

He scooped her up into his arms, the poor girl wiggling furiously to get away, but to no avail.

“Baby, do you want Daddy to go back downstairs and get his belt?” Morgan asked with that deep-timbre in his voice, Dakota promptly freezing in place. “Do you need Daddy to spank you again?”

Dakota shook her head no and then rested the side of her face on his left shoulder as he carried her over to Misty who had taken a seat in the rocking chair. Placing her in the cradle of Misty’s lap, Morgan helped the weeping girl to settle in her lay. Dakota rested her head against Misty’s chest, continuing to cry - somewhat inconsolably.

Morgan knelt down in front of her and brushed her hair out of her face.

“It will get easier for you,” Morgan said with a calming quality before he leaned forward and kissed Dakota on her forehead. “But you have to try, harder than you have ever tried anything before.”

It was then that Dakota saw the slight cut and bruising skin on the left side of his forehead. Reaching up with her mitt-covered hands, she touched his wound - wishing she could apologize and wishing she could kiss it better.

“Lean back, baby,” Morgan instructed her, Dakota obeying him swiftly - for how horrible she felt for having physically hurt him.

Misty held up what she was holding in her right hand. Yep. That was a baby bottle for sure, though it didn’t have a rubber nipple on the end. It did have a cap, but there was a small hole where the rubber nipple was supposed to be.

Cradling Dakota’s neck and head on the inside of her left elbow, Misty slid the hole in the baby bottle onto the little spout that was sticking out of Dakota’s mouth gag. Then, she began to turn the bottle, screwing it onto the spout.

Was Dakota expected to drink the contents? Was she really being fed from a bottle? Was Misty serious?

“Drink from the spout, baby. And swallow,” Misty said sweetly.

But Dakota wasn’t cooperating. Though fearful of another spanking, she still refused to draw the fluid into her mouth. So Misty began to gently squeeze the sides of bottle, forcing the fluid into Dakota’s mouth. The poor girl squealed and kicked her legs as she started crying again. She cocked the back of her throat and prevented herself from swallowing the fluid as it began to fill her mouth.

“I think someone is gonna need a nap after this,” Morgan said, standing up and walking over to the crib - lowering the side railing and preparing the crib to receive Dakota shortly.

Seeing him do this only upset the girl that much more. She was just one step shy of throwing a full-blown temper tantrum, complete with pouting and a scowl on her face as she refused to swallow the fluid. From the taste it had already left in her mouth, she could tell it wasn’t milk. It was some sort of sweet-tasting formula. Regardless of flavor, she wasn’t going to drink. No way. No how. No, sir.

“I think you’re right, honey. She’s so tired, she’s just thoroughly fussy,” Misty said, squeezing the bottle a bit more so and forcing a greater amount of fluid to fill the girl’s mouth fully.

Dakota tried not to allow any more fluid to flow into her mouth, but the inevitable finally happened. Pressure forced her to release the cocked position of her throat and she helplessly began to swallow the formula with big gulps. She would’ve cried even harder if her throat wasn’t busy with swallowing. But inside, she was fully crying - as yet another bit of freedom was being taken away from her. It wasn’t easy to give up control. It wasn’t easy at all.

“That’s a good girl,” Misty said, beginning to rock back-n-forth in the chair as she laid the sweetness on thickly. “Swallow it all. Be a good girl for Mommy.”

Dakota gazed up as Misty, tears having welled in the girl’s eyes and then having streamed down her temples for new tears to well up in their vacated place. They kept eye-contact with each other as Dakota kept swallowing the mouth-fulls of formula. And though Dakota couldn’t have explained why, even if she had the ability to speak just then, there was a small bit of bonding between her and Misty that took place at that very moment. Without further fuss, Dakota lifted her mitt-covered hands up, taking hold of the baby bottle and drawing from the spout. This battle was pointless to continue. But she would fight again later.

Misty smiled warmly, tears beginning to fill her eyes, too.

“I’m so proud of you, baby,” Misty said with an affected whisper.

Whatever the bit of remorseful sentiment that had taken Dakota over was about, she suddenly found purpose and need in finishing the bottle … just so she could hear Misty say, once again, how proud she was of her BabyGirl. It was praise that Dakota could find herself working towards - again and again, whenever she wanted. It felt good to make Misty proud of her - as if Dakota’s accomplishments - even the small ones - mattered to someone.

And that was a nice change in pace, too.

“Your restraints are just as mental as they are physical,” Misty said, touching the side of Dakota’s face as the girl kept swallowing the formula. “When we begin to see you let certain things go, we will begin to remove the physical restraints.”

Dakota felt like fussing again, but she just couldn’t … not at that tender moment anyway. She knew what they were attempting to do to her. They were going to force her to deal with the things she had allowed to steer her life into chaos. And to get her to focus on those troubling things, they were going to keep her in a state of babyhood - where she would always be looked after and tended to and fussed over and cared for and loved - the kinds of inundation in life that were good.

“You will not be spanked again,” Morgan said, getting up from the side of the crib and walking over towards the rocking chair as the bottle feeding ended.

“So you’re going to have to come to terms with a lot more than you ever have before,” Misty said, unscrewing the empty bottle from the little spout on the front of Dakota’s mouth gag.

Morgan scooped her up and carried her over to the crib. She was placed on her belly and one at a time, each of the restraints was removed from her wrists and ankles. But immediately after each restraint was removed, that limb was placed in one of the several cuffs that were attached to the crib mattress - including a leather strap that fit across her waist and tied down the center of her body.

When they were done fastening her to the crib Dakota began to weep again, but Misty began to gently rub her back and pat her diapered bottom.

“It’s nap time, baby. You’ll be asleep before you know it,” Misty said, turning on the music toy at the foot of the crib - a lullaby tune beginning to play. “Rest up and get your energy back. And when you wake up, Mommy will help you use your energy in positive ways.”

Morgan rose up the side railing of the crib. He and Misty remained by the crib side for a few more minutes until they saw the grogginess beginning to glaze over Dakota’s irises. Then they quietly left the nursery.

There was sleeping medication in that formula and something else, but she didn’t quite know what it was. Before long, she would learn what true humiliation was about when receiving her first diaper change. But before that happened, she would fall asleep.

With the last remaining seconds of consciousness ticking away, Dakota wondered how long she would be staying at their house, how long she would be restrained, how long she would be diapered and most importantly … how long it would take for her to let go of everything that she needed to.

With no answers in mind, she knew only one thing for certain … at that point: there was no turning back.


Chapter Five


Monday afternoon, 12:30pm

The door to the nursery opened quietly, the hinges having been oiled to be silent and the whole door raised just enough to glide across the surface of the plush rug without sound. But it wasn’t the small traces of noise that ever-so-gently stirred Dakota out of her slumber. It was the presence of Misty and Morgan in the room, along with the mild rush of air that rode the current in with them.

Dakota slowly lifted her head up and drew in a breath through her nose before burying her face in the pillow. Wow, she really had been exhausted and a short bit of sleep had given her some much-needed rest. Last night was a late-night for her at home as she couldn’t find much sleep at all. She was filled with nervousness about her trip to Misty and Morgan today. And the events of the morning had certainly drained her. So, much like a baby, she really had needed a nap.

She heard Morgan lowering the side railing of the crib. And that was the moment when she remembered where she was, why she was there and why she couldn’t currently move at all.

“Hello, baby,” Misty said with that sweet tone of her voice, albeit a whisper for not wanting to startle the poor girl - so newly returned from her dream world. “Did you sleep well?”

Dakota didn’t respond, not vocally with mumbles from behind the mouth gag and not physically with the nodding or shaking of her head. She was never a morning person, even when her morning restarted at 12:30pm. Moody wasn’t an adequate descriptor of her mental state when she woke up and added in with the present therapy experiencing, she would be an insufferable soul … just as soon as she woke up fully.

Misty sat on the side of the crib, running the fingers of her left hand through Dakota’s hair - feathering the girl’s locks back and tucking those by her temple behind her right ear. Morgan sat on the foot end of the crib, beginning to unfasten the leather straps that held the girl’s bootie-covered feet to the crib mattress.

“You have such pretty hair, baby,” Misty said softly, continuing to stroke the girl’s hair. “I remember when my hair was so fine like yours that it would do anything I wanted it to. I never had a bad hair day. Then I decided I wanted to add waves and highlights and completely change the color of my hair. All of that treatment eventually did the damage.”

Dakota turned her head and looked back over her shoulder at Misty, looking at the woman’s hair. My, oh my, what a girly moment they were having - talking about hairstyles. Misty didn’t look like she had damaged her hair, but Dakota wasn’t going to try to convince her otherwise. The poor girl had enough she was dealing with already to add to her plate the responsibility to elevating Misty’s esteem too.

Morgan began re-attaching the black leather cuffs to Dakota’s ankles, the return of that jewelry she found no favor in having. And as he moved up her body, next unfastening the leather strap that held her waist to the crib mattress, Dakota rejoiced in the returned ability to wriggle. Shifting her diapered hips, she slightly twisted her back - allowing her spine to crack before returning to her tummy.

“Honey, remind me to work with her on taking the tension out of her spine,” Misty said to Morgan, running her fingers up and down the middle of the girl’s back. “She carries a lot of tension there - too much, way too much. Maybe I’ll start that with her tomorrow. We’ll have to see how the rest of today goes first.”

“Yep,” Morgan said, the in-depth conversationalist that he was.

Misty shifted places with Morgan as he sat along the side of the crib, removing her mitt-covered right hand from the leather straps that tied her down to the crib mattress and re-attaching the black leather cuff to her right wrist.

It was just about then that Dakota realized she wasn’t going to be freed from her restraints yet. Morgan was simply replacing the tie-down restraints with those that allowed her to be mobile. And that awful, awful mouth piece gag was still tied around her head - the silicone pieces still holding her lips and teeth apart.

“Relax your frame, baby,” Misty said sweetly, cupping her left hand between the girl’s legs and feeling the front of her diaper. “Daddy is almost done.”

All right! Dakota had awakened enough to begin to take issue with a few things. And she was certainly going to do just that. As soon as Morgan untied her left arm from the straps that held her to the mattress and then returning the wrist cuff to the base of the mitt that covered her left hand, he connected the wrist cuffs to one another. Helping her turn over onto her back, Morgan then stood up and stepped back to allow Misty the ability to deal with Dakota’s forthcoming outburst. Not only did they provide an extremely effective therapy service, but they were also an amazing team, naturally. Neither got in the way of the other when strengths had to be at the forefront of the solution to a problem.

As Dakota sat up in the crib, her face held a scowl - softened only by the mouthpiece gag that prevented her lips from going into full-pouting mode. Misty cupped the front of the girl’s diaper, checking again for wetness but not surprised to find the girl was dry.

“Mommy will check your diaper again after lunch,” Misty said softly, feathering out the hair on the left side of Dakota’s head. “Maybe you won’t lose that ability to hold it as you sleep. Some don’t lose it, but then some do. Only time will tell.”

Dakota’s eyes welled with tears, but they weren’t sorrowful ones. Instead, they were tears of anger. She truly believed she had formed an understanding, a compassionate connection even, with Misty. Now, since the wrist and ankle cuffs had returned, it seemed that likely wasn’t the case. And thusly, it wouldn’t be long before Dakota’s need to fight for herself returned. With a bit of rest, she was re-energized and therefore, ready for more battle.

“Up, up,” Misty said, standing to her feet and swinging the girl’s legs over the side of the crib. “Your nap is over, baby. It’s time to get some nourishment in that tummy of yours.”

Dakota placed her bootie-covered feet on the ground, a little confused as to why Morgan hadn’t re-connected the ankle cuffs to each other. But she surmised these trips up and down the hallway staircase would be far easier and far safer if she had proper use of her legs. Standing up, she stared at the floor, a little dejected that they didn’t trust her any more than to return her to such humiliating and restricting bondage.

“Follow Daddy,” Misty said with an excited maternal tone, Dakota looking over at Morgan at the nursery door and seeing his summon for her to walk over to him.

Walking … hmph. More like waddling, crinkling and tottering. A diaper? A nursery? Bottle feedings? Nakedness? Restraints? Spankings? For goodness sake, this wasn’t therapy! It was someone sick, twisted perversion. And she had just about had enough of it all!

She made her way over to Morgan, indeed waddling and wobbling as she did so. He led her out into the hallway and over to the top of the staircase. Dakota stood there, looking down the stairs and sighing. What was the next mortifying bit of this session going to include? Morgan took hold of her left bicep and Misty took hold of her right as they helped her take noisy, hip-shifting steps down to the first floor. Her attitude was not only not getting better, but it was actually getting worse. And when she got to the last step, she looked straight ahead - seeing the front door only a few feet away. For a moment or two, she contemplated making a break for it - opening that door and running back towards the other condos. Yes, she would’ve been humiliated once more to be seen in a diaper, restrained by cuffs and gagged at the mouth. But at least she would be free from this therapy session she believed had possessed some sort of punishable criminal action.

“Dakota,” Morgan said, his deep timbre snapping her out of her stare towards the front door. “Come into the living room.”

Dakota looked to the left and into the living room, seeing Misty taking a seat on the sofa - that blue yoga mat still spread out on the floor and the coffee table still pushed out of the way. She walked up to the entrance of the living room, but then stopped when she saw Misty picking up another baby bottle from the end table to the side of the sofa.

“Walk over to Mommy. It’s okay,” Morgan whispered to her, patting the back of diapered bottom and encouraging her to walk towards Misty.

Dakota sighed and slowly began to waddle into the living room, her crinkling being the only noise in the room and sounding even louder as it echoed off the walls and ceiling.

“Lay down across my lap, baby,” Misty said, patting the cushion next to her for the girl to sit there and to lean back across her lap.

Dakota sighed again, not wanting to be bottle fed her lunch. What was wrong with food, real food? This liquid diet was going to be anything but filling and anything but satisfying. But it was definitely going to be as annoying as could be. Still, Dakota took a seat without a fuss, leaning back as Misty had instructed and settling on her back across Misty’s lap.

“Good girl,” Misty praised her, cradling Dakota in her arms and rocking her back and forth. “You see? Being a good girl has many, many rewards.”

Dakota smiled, for as much as her gagged mouth would allow a smile to be made. Despite everything else, Misty was very sweet and very kind. And it was clear that Misty truly cared about her. It wasn’t an act or just simply some contractual obligation. The tears Misty had shed were real. Her emotions were real and even though Dakota didn’t always want to do what Misty told her to do, there was no denying that Misty was genuinely concerned for her.

The reality of it was: Misty was genuinely concerned for every client she and her husband helped. This was understandable as Misty was the kind of woman who became attached to people easily. And what hurt Misty the most was when her clients fought back against the therapy that was supposed to be helping them. No, not every client was put through the baby treatment. For some, it was simply a constant and caring tough love they were given. Those particular clients had scar tissue they were trying to rid themselves of … scar tissue in the figurative sense, not the literal. But for Dakota, the pain and the hurt hadn’t started from within her, but rather - on her surface, traveling into her heart and staying there. So the only treatment that would be effective would be the kind that emulated the polar opposite of that which had hurt her.

In other words, Dakota needed to be surrounded with the kind of smothering love that was regularly given to a baby. And thusly, the baby treatment option was chosen for her.

Misty attached the baby bottle to the little spout on the front of Dakota’s gag, turning it until it was completely screwed on. And she kept rocking the girl while offering a simple instruction to her.

“Nurse,” Misty whispered, gently patting Dakota’s diapered bottom as Dakota began to draw from the spout.

But it wasn’t formula or milk or any sort of discernible liquid that entered her mouth. Instead, it was this pasty substance that had a sweet taste to it … sort of. But it was the consistency of this substance that drew Dakota aback. And with a wrinkled forehead, she looked up at Misty with confusion while trying to push the pasty mush back into the spout with her tongue.

“No, no,” Misty said softly but sternly, beginning to gently squeeze the sides of the bottle and forcing the pasty mush back into the girl’s mouth. “Swallow.”

Dakota shook her head no, beginning to fidget uncontrollably. Ugh. What the Hell was this nasty stuff? Reaching up and clenching the sides of the baby bottle with her mitt-covered hands, she began to unscrew it - in an attempt to get it off the spout at the front of her gag and hopefully then being able to spit the rest of that nasty stuff back out through the spout herself.

“Baby, relax,” Misty said with a calm tone as she pulled the girl’s restrained hands down away from the bottle.

But there was no way Dakota could relax. And it wasn’t fussiness or stubborn defiance that was fueling her, but rather an absolute horror that the pasty mush was going to choke her as she swallowed it. Pushing Misty’s hands away, she grabbed again at the bottle with her mitt-covered hands - trying to quickly unscrew it before Misty stopped her. But Misty grabbed the girl’s wrists cuffs with both of her hands and pulled her wrists down to her waist, holding them there as Morgan came over and grabbed the girl’s ankle cuffs. Connecting the leather cuffs at her ankles, he then bent her knees and pushed her feet up until the back of her heels touched her diapered bottom.

Then he connected her wrist cuffs to her ankle cuffs, immobilizing the girl, but not calming her down in the least. As Misty squeezed the bottle, filling the girl’s mouth full of the mush, she leaned back to avoid the sudden thrashes of the girl’s head. Dakota was beginning to be more than just unsettled. She was on the brink of a full-blown panic attack, similar to that of drowning or for those who are claustrophobic. She began to thrash all over, tears streaming from her eyes as she screamed into a full mouth of mush. She flapped her legs like they were butterfly wings and rolled her way off of Misty’s lap onto the blue yoga mat and the floor.

She got up onto her knees, but because of the way her wrists and ankles were connected as one, she couldn’t sit up - instead, turning her face to the side as the bottle was still screwed onto the spout on the front of her gag. Her cheeks puffed out - from her mouth being filled so full with the mush. And she steadily began to lose her mind. Because of her retrained position she couldn’t even inch her knees forward to get away in some sort of a worm crawl. Lifting her eyes up to Misty, she blinked a few times - allowing new streams of tears to streak down the bridge of her nose as she silently begged Misty to help.

Misty was shedding tears too, but knew very well what the next step had to be and without another moment of hesitation, she reached into the handbag that sat in front of the sofa.

“Hold her still, Honey,” Misty said to Morgan, Morgan wrapping his left arm around the girl’s thighs and his right arm around the girl’s torso - Dakota crying even more heavily.

Misty took out a needle syringe kit and a clear glass vial, filled with some sort of liquid. Dakota watched in horror as Misty stuck the needle of the syringe into the rubber end of the vial, pulling on the stopper and filling the needle with the liquid.

“I hate giving the sedatives even more than giving the spankings,” Morgan said, holding Dakota still with a tightened grip of her body. “I don’t know how you do it, Love.”

“Sure you do. You know why I’m able to do this,” Misty said, pulling the needle out of the glass vial and getting out an alcohol swab from the kit. “When I was a nurse at that penitentiary, I gave out hundreds of injections each day.”

Dakota couldn’t move at all. So she began to tremble, her entire body tremoring as Misty knelt alongside her. Pulling the diaper back off the girl’s left bottom cheek, Misty swabbed an area, touched the tip of the needle to the surface of the girl’s skin and sunk it into her meat. Slowly but steadily pushing in on the plunger, she injected the sedative into Dakota. It wasn’t put directly into the girl’s blood stream. So it wouldn’t take full effect until the body absorbed it. But it would at least begin to calm Dakota down soon.

The girl remained perfectly still until the needle was withdrawn from her bottom. And though the sedative had no part in it yet, Dakota actually did calm down a bit - trading in her panic for anger. And without really thinking about it, she had once again shown how she had no control over her emotions at all. From one right to the next, she often displayed a very bi-polar personality. That really wasn’t the truth about her, but it was how she acted sometimes. When all people had to go on was how she acted, it didn’t bode well for how she was viewed.

Her behavior that morning had clearly denied her all privileges and she would certainly have to try a lot harder to earn those privileges back. But as Misty sat down on the yoga mat and leaned back against the front of the sofa, Dakota didn’t know if she would be able to show good behavior just yet … not with a welling of anger inside her.

Morgan helped the girl turn over onto her back and then he helped her return into the cradle of Misty’s lap for the bottle feeding of a mushy lunch to continue.

“It’ll get easier, baby. It’ll get easier,” Misty said with the same sweetness as always, turning the baby bottle and bringing it back to tightness on the spout at the front of the girl’s gag. “Swallow what’s in your mouth. You may be little, but you can still be a little lady about things. Take pride in yourself. There’s nothing wrong with that.”

But this time, Misty’s sweetness didn’t ring in Dakota’s ears. Gazing up at the woman she thought she had a connection with, Dakota prepared to show how unlady-like she could be - especially when pushed too far. Taking in a deep breath through her nostrils and filling her lungs, she forced the air back out through her mouth with the intent of spewing the disgusting mush out through her lips, making a mess of the mouthpiece and probably of her face in the process.

But when she forced the air into her mouth, she didn’t spew the pasty mush out through her lips. Instead, it traveled upward and downward, settling into the silicone mouthpieces that wrapped around her teeth. So the mess she made was inside her mouth only. And when this happened, her anger switched off - tears filling her eyes as she began to sob uncontrollably.

“Baby,” Misty said with a syrupy-sweet tone as she wiped the tears from the girl’s eyes before they began streaking down her face. “There’s no other way this is going to go than the way Mommy says.”

Misty began to squeeze the baby bottle again, more of the pasty mush filling Dakota’s mouth. The girl sobbed heavily, tears welling in her eyes, again and again. And Misty kept wiping them away, again and again. She wasn’t being mean, but she wasn’t giving in to the tantrums or the crying or any other excuse that Dakota could think of to express without words.

“Swallow what’s in your mouth,” Misty said with sweetness but also with sternness as she kept squeezing the bottle.

Dakota still resisted, but could only do so for a short while longer. It had become impossible to cry and then breathe through her nose while cocking her throat to prevent herself from swallowing. And in a somber moment of defeat, she gulped the mouthful down.

“That’s a good girl. That wasn’t so bad, was it?” Misty asked with animation and with such gentleness that Dakota felt herself to be seen as a baby, a suddenly welcomed mindset - especially since she was emotional and looking for comfort. “It didn’t taste bad at all, did it?”

Dakota gently shook her head no, feeling a loss of pride in the loss of the battle but suddenly wanting nothing more than to be held by Misty. And as Dakota swallowed mouthful after mouthful of the mush, she gazed up at the Mommy-figure who was once again a trusted companion and was fast changing from being a Mommy-figured into just simply being … Mommy.

The mush had the consistency of mashed potatoes with little bits of grit in it, but it tasted fairly sweet. It was a blended mixture of turkey meat, oranges, lemons, rice and vanilla yogurt - all foods that were theorized to aid in the reduction of anxiousness and lessen the effects of depressive triggers. It really didn’t taste bad at all and it was actually quite filling for the girl’s appetite.

When Dakota finished most of the mush, Misty replaced the bottle with another - this one filled with apple juice, a clean quenching drink that enabled Dakota to wash her mouth and her teeth of the mush before swallowing.

With a bit of rest after a morning of emotional and physical exertion, Dakota felt better. With a satisfied stomach and an emotional release, Dakota felt better still.

Now, lying across Misty’s lap and cradled in her arms, Dakota felt the first real effects of the sedative that had been given to her. Yes, indeed. The edges of her nerves had been taken off, numbed just enough for her to be able to handle them. Her head felt a slight buzz, much like that felt after a few drinks of alcohol. With a mind that wasn’t overloaded with worry, the muscles in her body relaxed just enough for her to find comfort in her lay.

Dakota’s wrists remained connected to one another, as did her ankles. But she was no longer scrunched up - making her hands touch her feet. Instead, Misty had wound a long, pink satin ribbon around the girl’s forearms - connecting them from her elbows to her wrists and making it more difficult for the girl to use her arms as a weapon of self-defense. On top of all of this, Dakota was being gently rocked back and forth as Misty whispered endearing sentiments into the girl’s ears.

“As girls, people tell us what it is that we’re doing wrong and they point out our flaws with such careless ease that they don’t realize how they crush us with their words,” Misty said softly, holding Dakota and rubbing the girl’s naked back. “And we never really know which hurts us more: when guys say these things to us or when other girls do. Guys are cruel but we’re still naturally drawn to them anyway. We want to mean something to them. We want attention from them, attention that makes us feel like we are more important to them than any other girl, than anyone else. And the girls who say mean things to us we want to lunge at - because they know what it feels like to be made insecure by thoughtless comments.”

Misty pressed her fingers into the tightened muscles she found earlier at the middle of Dakota’s back.

“And when people aren’t using words to hurts us, they’re showing us who we need to be more like: in magazines, on TV, in movies. After a while, we have changed our appearances and our personalities so many times that we no longer know who we are anymore,” Misty continued, still pressing her fingertips in on those tight muscles around the thoracic middle of Dakota’s spine. “We can so easily become lost, yesterday’s girl but no longer today’s. Then we begin to think less of ourselves. And that leads us into depression every time, whether that depression is temporary or more permanent than we care to admit.”

Misty’s eyes welled with tears as she kept rocking Dakota’s body back and forth.

“Baby, I don’t know a whole lot about what you’ve experienced in your life and I’ll never pretend to know,” Misty said, patting the girl’s diapered bottom. “But I recognized that look in your eyes when you walked into your sister’s living room on Friday night. It was a look of immediate defensiveness. You were preparing to deal with more people telling you what you were doing wrong. The biggest problem with doing that is: when you stop listening to what people are saying you are doing wrong, you also miss out on hearing them tell you about all the things you are doing right.”

Dakota smiled, for as much as a gagged mouth could smile. Misty was right. Dakota hadn’t actually listened to what anybody had said to her and about her in a long time. And in not doing so, she missed the compliments along the way.

The sedative really began to take effect suddenly, Dakota feeling a bit woozy all over but feeling more and more relaxed by the minute. It must have been a half hour since she was given the sedative. Or had it been an hour already? Or maybe two hours? She just couldn’t tell - for how relaxed she had become. It was as if the importance of time had melted away with her tension.

And maybe, just maybe, it was her relaxation of the moment that kept her from noticing the trickle of pee coming out of her. She would be unaware of it, until she felt the warmth in her diaper. Clamping down on her groin muscles, she blushed a shade of red - incapable of holding out and avoiding the inevitable forever. But mixed in with the twinges of humiliation that rapid-fired themselves through her thoughts was a bit of enjoyment she hadn’t ever considered.

She was, in fact, completely helpless to control herself, physically and, slowly but surely, mentally. Misty smiled brightly, a warm glow filling her face as she beamed down at the girl with a sense of maternal bliss that displayed itself prominently in her eyes.

“Is Mommy’s little baby finally wetting herself? Hmm?” Misty said with an almost song-like quality in her voice. “Awwwww.”

Dakota’s brain turned as mushy as her lunch had been and without any really resistance left within her, she released her groin muscles and flooded her diaper. This was the final bit of relaxation that she was looking for, at least at that vulnerable moment anyway. Her frame literally relaxed itself as her wetting came to an end. The new warmth and heaviness of her diaper felt so wonderful that she found comfort in it, strangely. But once again, Dakota wasn’t really examining the providers and/or catalysts of such comfort. Rather, she was welcoming them all as every single one of them made her feel just a little bit better. And better was very, very good.

Misty slid forward on the sofa, keeping her seat on its very edge as she guided Dakota down onto her back on the blue yoga mat. It had been a quieter bit of time and a length of such that had led Dakota to a far calmer state, partially from the sedative and partially from the endearment of a Mommy’s words.

Lying on her back and watching Misty reach for that handbag with the flowery designs on it, Dakota’s heart began to pound as a slight dizziness overtook her senses. And then when Misty took out another one of those crinkly thick diapers, all of Dakota’s senses numbed - made to feel even more so numb by the sedative as it continued to take greater effect. And Misty wasn’t wasting a moment of time in capitalizing on Dakota’s helpless state of mind - because it was within those instances when everything seemed stripped away that a solid foundation to rebuild one’s self could form and begin. With nothing left to be taken away, the only remaining to do was to start reacquiring things. And the first thing to get back was esteem of self.

“Relax yourself, baby,” Misty said, running her hands up Dakota’s thighs to her knees and then parting the girl’s legs. “That’s my good girl. Just relax and show Mommy how calm you can be.”

Dakota eased her frame into the blue yoga mat, for as much as her limbs could relax while still being restrained with cuffs - her forearms wound inside that pink satin ribbon. But there was one bit of relaxation that couldn’t happen until she finished a present endeavor, so to say.

Dakota gazed up at Misty with a lost look in her eyes, Misty beaming back down at her with that glow that only a mommy could possess. And for as strange of an action as it seemed to express the affection of the moment, all the more Dakota could do was trickle out the remains from within her bladder. And then - absolute relaxation was found.

“All done?” Misty whispered softly, Dakota blushed a deep shade of red as Misty pinched the top tapes at either of the girl’s hips with her thumbs and pointer fingers as she pulled outward - unfastening them.

Then Misty went after the second set of tapes at either of the girl’s hips, the sounds of them being unfastened echoing in Dakota’s ears. The girl looked over at the new diaper Misty had set next to her on the blue yoga mat, along with that container of wipes and that container of baby powder. It seemed the mortifying undergarment was suddenly so much more than that. And as her head began to spin with an absolute feel of sedation, Dakota turned to mush all over.

“Now lay still, baby,” Misty said with sweetness, pinching the front waist band of the drenched diaper around the girl’s center and lowering it down onto the blue yoga mat - between her bowed thighs.

The cool rush of air that floated over Dakota’s body brought shivers to her as well as a few whimpers, but Misty still wasn’t affected by excuses. Her maternal instincts, however, reminded her of the compassion that Dakota not only needed by craved.

“It’s okay, baby. Don’t fuss,” Misty said sweetly, taking a baby wipe to Dakota’s front and then between her legs as the girl whined into her gag. “It’s just a wipe.”

But Dakota was beyond logical reasoning and her foggy brain only made worse the simple little discomforts she felt. So she kept whining, when her discomfort grew and even when Misty made her feel better. Whining was the only concrete form of communication she had left. And though she wasn’t aware of it, she was beginning to show signs of a regression far deeper than she had ever known.

Misty took hold of the girl’s cuffed and connected ankles, lifting her legs up into the air as she took another baby wipe to the girl’s bottom.

“It’s okay, baby. Now, you’re clean,” Misty said with gentleness unparalleled to that point - Dakota continuing to travel deeper still inside her own thoughts as she listened to the sweet tone of Misty’s voice. “All clean now. Yes, allllll clean.”

Placing Dakota’s shins and feet up and over her back, Misty held the girl’s legs in that elevated position as she unfolded the new diaper and touched its inner softness to Dakota’s bottom.

“Clean and soft, baby,” Misty said with the glow of maternal bliss in her eyes as she slid the wet diaper out from underneath the girl.

Dakota looked over at it, seeing its thoroughly-drenched condition and the enormous yellow spot she had saturated it with.

Quietly, Morgan wandered back into the living room - silently taking a seat on the end of the sofa and watching. Placing the unfolded diaper flat to the blue yoga mat, Misty picked up the container of baby powder and sprinkled a liberal amount on her right palm - intending to capitalize on Morgan’s sudden appearance.

“Show Daddy what a good girl you are for Mommy,” Misty said to Dakota, the girl looking over at Morgan as he sat on the end of the sofa.

Oh, she blushed a deep shade of red. How embarrassing, indeed. Being initially diapered, being force fed bottles of formula and pasty mush, being spanked and bound and sedated - those were all things that Dakota had no control over - at least given the circumstances. But having wet herself was something that was completely in her control. It had been completely in her control for at least the last 25 of the 28 years of her life. Yet, lying next to her was a diaper that gave indisputable proof otherwise. And Morgan - a guy, a male! He was sitting right there, observing how incapable she was of controlling her own body’s functions.

Well, that wasn’t going to rebuild her self-esteem any.

Misty touched the palm-full of baby powder to the girl’s bottom, caressing a coat of it across both of the girl’s cheeks while keeping the tone of coo in her voice and in her words. Dakota’s brain melted the rest of the way, her thoughts traveling in many different directions at the same time as Misty lowered the girl’s bottom into the soft inner nestle of the new diaper. Lowering Dakota’s legs back down to the blue yoga mat and parting the girl’s thighs, Misty moved her kneel to the side of the girl, coating the girl’s front and then between her legs. Despite the sweet scent and the blanketing of the powder to her center, Dakota was still shamefully exposed. But she was beyond any realm of understanding at all, at that point. And what should have been the most humiliating experience of her life was finally resonating in her thoughts as the way things ought to be.

And it was that mentality that finally broke her of the need for independence. Oh, she was still far from accepting it all without hesitation, but she had just made it over the first hurdle, the first little hump that wasn’t so little after all.

Misty took hold of the waist band at the front of the girl’s diaper, folding it up and into place as she opened the tapes and fastened them snuggly at the girl’s hips. Dakota was once again enveloped in a softness and snugness that seemed as foreign as it did familiar.

“Good girl,” Misty whispered, patting Dakota’s between her legs - freshly powdered and freshly diapered - the way things ought to be.





Chapter Six


Monday evening, 5pm

Dakota awoke on the blue yoga mat in the living room, a short while later. She didn’t know how long she had been asleep, but from the numbness on the one side of her body from having been curled up in the fetal position, she suspected it had been at least another hour. But goodness sake! Two naps in one day? She honestly couldn’t recall the last time she had ever done that. A few months ago, she worked two jobs. So she had two 8-hour shifts - back to back, with an hour in between. And in that hour, she would drive from her one job to the other, taking a half hour nap in the back seat of her car and then changing into her waitressing outfit before going in to work. Naps weren’t a regular part of her days. Today, however, proved otherwise.

Rolling over onto her back she grunted a little at how her wrists were still connected with cuffs, her forearms were still connected from her elbows to her wrists with that long pink satin ribbon, her ankles were still connected with cuffs and her mouth was still gagged with that spouted mouth piece. Ugh! She would give anything to be able to stretch her limbs, close her mouth completely or put any sort of clothing on her body other than a diaper. But Dakota knew well that every binding restriction she adorned was caused by her disobedience and poor behavior earlier in the day. She would have to earn all her freedoms back, but she had no idea how long it would take to redeem herself and no indications had been given to her by Misty or Morgan.

Sitting up, she buried her face in the mitt-covered palms of her hands, rubbing her eyes and waking up. Sunlight poured in through the front window of the living room, the sun dipping low enough in the sky to shine its brilliance onto her on that blue yoga mat before it began its evening descent. Autumn was always good for creating beautiful lengthy sunsets, the shine being vivid with warm shades of orange.

In the air, she could smell the preparations of dinner, steak by the scents wafting by. Touching the tip of her tongue to the back of the spout, Dakota wondered if her dinner would be one of those glorious steaks or another baby bottle of pasty mush. Her bad behavior had also taken away the blessing of a good home-cooked meal. She had taken for granted far too many things that had always been provided for her.

Misty wasn’t in the living room, but Morgan was - sitting on the sofa and quietly reading a Stephen King book. Looking up from the book, he smiled at Dakota - taking his reading glasses off and leaning forward to speak with her.

“Hello, Dakota,” Morgan said with that deep timbre in his voice she was coming to love the sound of. “Did you sleep well?”

Dakota shrugged her shoulders and then laughed softly.

“Come up here on the sofa with me for a minute,” Morgan said, Dakota struggling but getting up on her knees.

Morgan scooped her up and leaned back on the sofa, cradling her across his lap and holding her in his arms. She could sense the power he possessed in his hands, not just from having been spanked by him already and by having been held down by him already, but also because of the way he presently cradled her. It was a strength he had at his fingertips, but it wasn’t a strength he always used. That showed self-control and only made him that much more intriguing to her. He was a guy with power, but not the kind who wielded it freely. He knew he didn’t need to do that.

And mmm! He smelled really good. Dakota hadn’t been this close to a guy who actually took care of himself in a long time. Morgan was fit, not overly muscle-bound but still put together. He also seemed to have a lot things in his life squared away nicely. And as any girl would admit, a guy who had his life in order was very, very sexy.

“Is she awake?” Misty called from the kitchen.

“Yep,” Morgan said, being the usual lengthy-conversationalist.

“Hello, baby!” Misty called sweetly.

Dakota mumbled sweetly into her gag in an attempt to say hello back to Misty.

“She says hello,” Morgan called to Misty, grinning brightly at the sight of Dakota trying to communicate.

“Mommy loves you, baby!” Misty called sweetly, Dakota smiling as much as her gag would allow her mouth to smile while she wiggled in his lap with the emotions of affection.

“And she loves you, too,” Morgan said, placing his fingertips on Dakota’s hairline and gently drawing them down her face to her chin.

Dakota pressed herself up against him and took in a big sniff of the scent from the front of his shirt.

“I want to tell you something that I don’t think you’re aware of, Dakota,” Morgan said, patting her diapered bottom as he rocked her back and forth in an ever-so-gentle manner that was uncommon nature for someone of his gender. “I’ve been …”

“Is she poopy?” Misty called from the kitchen, cutting Morgan off from what he was trying to say to her.

“I don’t think so,” Morgan called back to Misty, Dakota giggling softly at how he rolled his eyes. “As I was saying … I’ve been watch-.”

“Can you check, please?” Misty called from the kitchen, once again interrupting Morgan, Dakota blushing and then completely burying her face in his chest as he reached behind her.

He pulled out the waist band at the back of her diaper and took a peek inside. There was nothing quite like that to make a girl feel inferior … or small … or insecure. But then again, there was nothing wrong with it, either. And as Dakota was learning, those little tingles of excitement she felt didn’t necessarily have to be followed as if they were summoning her to take action. But the tingles always remained within her and welled to her surfaces when stimulated by something … or someone.

Nevertheless, Dakota had no intentions of doing anything other than innocently flirting with Morgan. If she ever was given back the right to speak, she would certainly be calling him Daddy. There was no harm in that. So there wouldn’t be any harm in this, either.

Instinct was such a tricky thing, sometimes.

“I’ve been watching how you have reacted to your time here and how you jested when you were made to do anything you didn’t want to do,” Morgan said quietly, running his hand up and down her back.

Oh my goodness, could she feel the power in his hands, reserved and contained. But oh my, did he truly understand how to touch a female. No wonder Misty loved him so much.

“Dakota, what I’ve noticed more clearly than anything else is that: you’re not as hopeless as you display yourself to be,” Morgan said, returning his hand to her diapered bottom and patting her again. “It isn’t a lack of self-esteem or a lack of will power or a lack of initiative that makes you feel held back. It’s much simpler than all of that.”

Dakota lifted her head and looked up at him, wondering what he was going to say her problem actually was. But at that moment, Morgan did the best thing he possibly could have done for her. He didn’t complete his thought.

“When you’re ready, you’ll be able to figure it out on your own,” Morgan said, taking hold of the tied ends of the pink ribbon that bound her forearms together. “If I take this ribbon off your arms, are you going to start swinging?”

Dakota shook her head no. Lifting her mitt-covered hands up, she watched as Morgan freed her arms from the ribbon - but not the wrist cuffs or the hand mitts … not yet, anyway.

“I want to show you something,” Morgan said, lowering his head so she could wrap her cuffed wrists around his neck.

Then he stood up, putting his left arm under her knees and keeping his right forearm tightly against her lower lumbar as he carried her into the kitchen.

Misty was standing at the stove, making dinner. She smiled at Dakota as Morgan walked by with her in his arms.

“Where’s Daddy taking you? Hmm?” Misty asked with sweetness. “Did Daddy say he wanted to show you something?”

Dakota looked at Misty, nodding yes and wondering if Misty was aware of where Morgan was taking her. Stirring something in a pot on the stove one more time, Misty then joined them - Morgan having carried Dakota to the bay window at the back of the kitchen. Setting her down on the sill, Morgan directed her attention to the back yard of their property.

“Do you see that little pathway back there, the one with the white stones lining it?” Morgan asked, Dakota getting up on her knees and leaning in close to the window for a better view.

Nodding, she looked more closely at the trail - not really being able to see much it from how the forest behind the house seemed to engulf it.

“When you’ve made the discoveries about yourself that you need to, we are going to take you for a walk down that trail,” Morgan said with whispered animation, Dakota’s eyes growing big and wide with curiosity. “And where that trails leads to is the one place in this world where you belong.”

Dakota wrinkled her forehead, knowing he wasn’t going to explain his statement and trying to figure it out for herself. Where was the one place in this world where she belonged?

“Are you sure she isn’t poopy?” Misty asked, pulling out the back of Dakota’s diaper and checking for herself.

“Not yet,” Morgan replied, never seeming bothered by his wife’s obsessions. “Dakota, we want so very much to be able to you outside into the beautiful weather. But only good girls get to go outside. And you have a lot of jewelry to lose first.”

Dakota sighed, realizing how the restraints on her body were constant reminders of her poor behavior. But as she knelt there, staring out the bay window at the back of the kitchen, she began to also realize how the restraints weren’t just put there for behavior issues. They were also put there to help her achieve the attitude adjustment she hadn’t been able to achieve alone.

Yet another test of that very thing was about to happen.

Morgan took hold of the leather cuffs at Dakota’s wrists and disconnected them from each other - then taking hold of her mitt-covered right hand as Misty took hold of her mitt-covered left hand. Dakota stood to her feet and was instantly made to walk towards the kitchen table. But her ankles were still connected with leather cuffs. So her steps forward weren’t very productive. She waddled widely and crinkled noisily. And she kept looking at the kitchen, then to Morgan, then to Misty and then back to the kitchen table. She wasn’t putting together where she was being taken or what was about to happen to her. But once she caught sight of the high chair, sitting at the end of the kitchen table, she pieced the rest together quickly.

Maybe she should have fought them, trying to get away. But if she had done that, it would have been seen as more bad behavior and the restraints would remain on her even longer. She didn’t want that. The thought of that first moment when she was finally made free of those stupid cuffs and awful gag was something she was looking forward to.

Maybe she should have pleaded with them to not put her in the high chair, begging them as best she could without the freedom to speak. But if she had begged, it would have been seen as more excuses or she would have been viewed as trying to get out of something. She didn’t want that, either.

Morgan spun her around, lifting her up and placing her in the high chair. Then he and Misty attached the girl’s cuffed wrists to either arm of the high chair - following that with disconnecting the girl’s ankle cuffs and attaching them to the front legs of the high chair.

Maybe she should have just stopped resisting and started pretending that it wasn’t so bad. But if she had done that, they would have believed she was seeing all of this as punishment, rather than as treatment. And then maybe they would believe she still wasn’t learning what she needed to learn. And perhaps they would also believe that she really didn’t want to learn what she needed to at all. She didn’t want them think that about her.

It was at the moment when Misty clicked the high chair tray into place that Dakota finally made the break-through of thoughts that she needed to make. And it all came from something Morgan had said to her just a few minutes earlier:

“It isn’t a lack of self-esteem or a lack of will power or a lack of initiative that makes you feel held back. It’s much simpler than all of that,” she recalled him saying when she woke up just a few minutes ago. “When you’re ready, you’ll be able to figure it out on your own.”

There she was, bound to a high chair and watching Morgan placing a plate in front of Misty. He had pulled the chair out for her to take a seat. He had poured her a glass of Pinot Grigio. And he was now serving her steak and a wonderful meal. He was being the perfect gentleman, treating her with such respectful care.

Dakota, on the other hand, wouldn’t be eating steak for dinner. And as Morgan screwed the baby bottle onto the little spout on the front of her gag, she finally got first clear glimpse of the lesson they were trying to teach her:

Dakota had been so preoccupied trying to find what she wanted, she had neglected to look for what she needed. And because of this, she had always wound up with what she didn’t want … usually, a gray morning where she popped the Plan-B pill and escaped from a stranger’s bedroom she never should have gone into.

It wasn’t about avoiding what she didn’t want. It was about actually know what she did want.

If she were forced to answer the questions: What makes you happy? What do you want to do in life? What are you passionate about? she wouldn’t have been able to give truthful answers. Dakota had reinvented herself so many times that she had no identity anymore. And this was what had caused her life to fall to pieces all around her.

Morgan began to squeeze the baby bottle, snapping Dakota out of her deep-thinking daze as the pasty mush began to fill her mouth. She looked at him and tears began to well in her eyes. This wasn’t what she wanted. But the biggest question was: what did she want?

How could she not answer that question in her mind? How could she not know what she wanted? The reality of the past few years as well as certain realities of her entire life suddenly hit her like a ton of bricks.

“Swallow, baby,” Misty said with sweetness, putting a bite of the steak in her mouth before picking up her glass of wine and taking a sip.

THAT was what Dakota wanted! Not mushy, pasty nastiness!

“Mommy love you, baby,” Misty said with sweetness as the girl’s cheeks began to puff out from the mouthful of mush. “Be a good girl for Daddy. Swallow your dinner.”

Dakota blinked a few times and gulped down the disgusting pasty goo. Tears streamed from her eyes and she began to sob heavily. But Morgan kept the bottle tilted upward, thusly keeping Dakota’s chin and head raised up. And when the girl finished swallowing the first mouthful, he squeezed the baby bottle again. Her mouth began to fill with more of the mush. And this particular mixture tasted absolutely God-awful. She wanted to hack up her lungs, but she knew that it would only go right back into her mouth.

If there was only some way she could tell them that she suddenly understood, she certainly would have, but her lesson was only half done. While it was good to understand the lesson, it was just as necessary to face the consequences. And the truth remained that Dakota had behaved badly since she arrived there that morning. She had to be spanked. She had to be restrained. She had to be tied down and maybe the worst offense of all was having upset Misty several times along the way.

Meeting Mr. Right, that Knight in Shining Armor who would sweep her off her feet and make the perfect life for her … that would always be the ultimate fantasy of any girl. And Dakota was no different. But when she thought about herself, about how people viewed her in those bars, she never once contemplated why people judged her. She just automatically went on the defense. Maybe those people were right about her. No, that couldn’t be the case. They didn’t really know her. All they knew of her was what they saw in the bars.

And then a second ton of bricks hit her. Of course those people thought less of her. All she ever showed them was how much of a slut she could be. Why would they think anything differently than how she presented herself and how she acted in front of them?

The Law of Attraction stated that by focusing on positive or negative thoughts, a person could bring positive or negative experiences into their life. Would anything positive come from Dakota continuing to make bad decisions, to exude bad behavior, to be difficult, to be unreasonable and to possibly even be self-centered?

Dakota returned her attention to how much Misty was enjoying her steak dinner and her wine. Swallowing the next disgusting mouthful of mushy globbiness, Dakota began to sniffle - tears streaming down her face. Yes, it was her decision to sign the agreement and to go through this emotional therapy session at Misty and Morgan’s house. But the truth she had to face was the fact that she belonged there, receiving dependent treatment while being spoken to with absolute kindness. It gave her the ability to choose between the pleasant and the unpleasant. This seemed like a pretty easy choice to make in selecting the pleasant. But Dakota needed to show that choice in her actions, and even more so in the way she made decisions in life.

Oh, how jealous Dakota was of Misty, seeing the woman being taken care of and treated with such love and respect. And oh, how much the mush made her want to throw up. She kept swallowing it as she was told to, but for the first time in a long time, Dakota was able to see what she wanted more clearly than what she didn’t. Still, the treatment remained and she accepted it. Dinner for her, and all meals in in the foreseeable future for that matter, were going to remain a mushy affair until she earned the right to something more.

This revelation didn’t keep her from crying like a baby and remaining on the edge of a tantrum until she finished that bottle of mush. But despite how much she fussed, Morgan and Misty only used kindness when talking to her. This made it very difficult for her to be angry with either of them. Anger was another one of those excuses Dakota held on to and used way too often.

Dakota was given a bottle of apple juice to drink to wash down the taste of her mushy meal. After dinner, she was given a bird bath on the blue yoga mat - lying there naked and being cleaned with washcloths. A real shower and even a relaxing bubble bath were things she would have to earn. The humiliations of her current role and, more personally, of her nakedness were becoming accustomed feelings for her. Eventually, she wouldn’t be embarrassed at all. But that outcome hadn’t arrived yet.

The whole evening was quieter than the rest of the day, Dakota sitting in between them on the sofa as they watched a two-hour marathon of Game of Thrones on the TV. And the whole time, Dakota sat between them - her wrists cuffed together again, her ankles cuffed together again, that spouted mouth piece still gagging her and a diaper being the only clothing she had on.

But it actually felt nice, really nice for her to be in a normal environment - for as abnormal as the circumstances were. It was sort of like existing and thriving successfully in amidst chaos. This was how it was done. Not every moment in life had to be super-charged. Not every lonely night had to be livened by going to a bar, meeting a guy, traveling home with him and getting laid - all in an attempt to not feel so lonely. When people quieted themselves enough, they took notice to some of the details that noise would often distract attention away from.

One such detail was the difference in endowment between Misty and Dakota. It was inevitable that Dakota would eventually size herself up to the woman who was taking care of her. Misty had to have been a C-cup, maybe even a D-cup. But poor Dakota only sported little Bs.

After a while, Dakota straightened her back, assuming the posture that Misty held herself with. Dakota even tried crossing her legs - for as much as cuffed ankles would allow. She placed her hands on her lap - for as much as mitt-covered hands and cuffed wrists would allow.

At 9:30pm, Misty and Morgan took Dakota upstairs to her nursery and removed her cuffs before tying her down in her crib for the night. She was placed on her back this time, finding as much comfort as she could while Misty screwed her night time bottle of formula onto the spout at the front of the girl’s gagging mouth piece.

Misty said alongside the girl’s torso as Morgan sat alongside the girl’s diapered waist.

“Dakota, I wanna tell you a story about this girl I once met,” Morgan said, Dakota smiling as much as a gagged mouth would allow her to. “I think it will help you to understand things a little better.”

Misty scrunched up her lips, sticking her tongue into her right cheek and trying not to smile.

“Present day gives us this really great thing call the internet,” Morgan started, suddenly becoming quite chatty - a blue moon now presumably appearing in the sky that night for how rare of an occurrence this chattiness was for him. “And on the internet you can find out the up-to-the-minute goings-on in Indonesia and anywhere else in this world. Sometimes, things turn up on your friend feeds that you really didn’t want to see or read about.”

Misty buried her face in her hands, knowing exactly where this was headed. Dakota kept nursing on the bottle as she tossed her eyes back and forth, from Morgan to Misty - comparing his storytelling to her reactions to his storytelling.

“But sometimes you do come across things you actually want to read … and sometimes you find people you want to meet,” Morgan continued, Misty spreading her fingers out and looking over at Morgan with a blushing face of her own. “As a girl, you get all sorts of messages from all sorts of guys, especially if you’re on a dating site or some other … kind of site.”

Misty sat up, slapped Morgan in the arm and then covered her face again - trying to hide her blushing reaction and her growing smile.

“So there was this girl whose profile had some really nice pictures on it and her profile information made quite clear that she was not interested in being anyone’s trophy, property or mistress,” Morgan continued, Dakota’s eyes growing big and wide as she kept looking back and forth between Morgan and Misty. “And though her profile had a tone that was a little disgusted by the multitudes of guys who had contacted her, she was still able to showcase a little bit of who she really was. I was so taken in by what she had written that I messaged her. And I told her that her profile was a refreshing breath of air.”

Dakota raised an eyebrow, listening a little more intently. But Morgan had leaned back as if to suggest that he was done telling the story. So Dakota lifted her head up and gave him a look of disbelief that he wasn’t continuing the story. It was like telling someone you had a secret but you couldn’t say what the secret was.

“To be continued,” Morgan said with a devilish grin.

“He’s such a tease, isn’t he?” Misty whispered to Dakota, holding the very end of the baby bottle straight up so Dakota could finish drinking its contents. “Baby, I have something else I want to give to you, but I don’t want you to take it for granted, okay?”

Dakota nodded, trying to figure out what it was that Misty was holding behind her back.

“I wanted to say that--,” Misty began.

“Is she poopy?” Morgan asked, Misty rolling her eyes.

“No, she isn’t,” Misty replied to him before directing the conversation back towards Dakota. “I wanted to say that when you--.”

“Can you check, please?” Morgan asked, interrupting her again, Dakota squealing with laughter.

So Misty cupped her left hand between Dakota’s legs, feeling the seat of the girl’s diaper and then sliding her fingers inside the elastic edging around the girl’s right leg to feel inside the diaper.

“This is what she calls the dipstick method,” Morgan said, Dakota squealing with laughter again as Misty turned around and smacked his arm again before turning back to the girl.

“When you got here this morning, I didn’t expect you to be such a fighter about things,” Misty said, reaching behind the girl’s head and beginning to unfasten the straps of the mouth piece gag - Dakota’s eyes growing really big and wide but then drooping to half-mast as the effects of the formula began to take hold. “And I didn’t expect you to begin to show signs of growth so quickly, either.”

Misty lifted the spouted gag out of the girl’s mouth. Dakota heaved her chest up and took in a deep, open-mouthed breath - the first one since that morning.

“But I told you that you will receive what you want … as you earn it. And I was being serious about that … now open wide for Mommy,” Misty instructed, Dakota opening her mouth as widely as she could. “That’s a good girl.”

Misty touched the silicone nipple of a pacifier to Dakota’s lower lip, the girl opening her eyes fully for a moment as Misty slid the pacifier into her mouth. Dakota began to nurse on the nipple right away, the guard of the pacifier touching her lips. Then Misty drew the straps that were attached to either side of the guard around the girl’s head, tying the ends together at the back of her neck.

No, it wasn’t freedom, but it was a lot more pleasant than that awful gag. And it showed Dakota that Misty never lied. Further trust was established, just then.

“Nighty night, BabyGirl,” Misty said, rubbing Dakota’s naked belly and then her right thigh before gathering up the baby blanket at the foot of the crib and covering Dakota with it. “Mommy will see you first thing in the morning. Sweet dreams, baby. Mommy loves you.”

Misty stood up and stepped back. Morgan walked up to the crib, leaned over, took Dakota’s head in his hands and kissed her forehead. Then he raised up the side railing of the crib.

Oh my, Dakota was getting sleepy quickly. She so desperately wanted to stay awake, but she couldn’t any longer. And in a few seconds, she was far away and dreaming.

“It looks like the sleeping medication works,” Misty whispered to Morgan as they quietly walked over to the nursery door.

“Right,” Morgan said, turning back and looking at Dakota in the crib. “Now, onto the problem of her bowels.”

“I put stool softener in her dinner bottle,” Misty said softly. “Let’s wait and see if things happen naturally before we take the next step.”

“Yeah,” Morgan said. “I hate the next step.”

“Me, too,” Misty said with a smile. “But everything seems to be working for her. Could you have imagined her to be doing so well after just the first day?”

“No,” Morgan said. “But it does make clear what her problem is.”

“Yes, it does,” Misty replied. “And the sooner she realizes it herself, the better.”

Misty closed the nursery door behind them and they quietly walked back downstairs.

That was the end of day one of Dakota’s emotional therapy session with Misty and Morgan. The next day would hold greater challenges, but it seemed Dakota was rising to meet those challenges just fine.





Chapter Seven


Tuesday morning, 8am

The faintest scent of hazelnut coffee filled the air. And it was that distant aroma, having traveled all the way upstairs from the kitchen that awoke Dakota in her crib. The morning sun was still ascending in the sky, but it was high enough to reach the nursery windows. And from where the crib was placed, on the outside wall and directly between two windows, the sun didn’t shine directly on her. Instead, it streamed through those windows and made useless the blue canary in the outlet by the light switch that had served as her night light.

Dakota stirred on the crib mattress, wanting nothing more than to stretch her limbs. But, being strapped down at the wrists, waist and ankles, her available movements wouldn’t allow for that stretch. Putting the tip of her tongue on the tip of the silicone nipple of her pacifier, she pushed it up. And in doing so, pushed the guard of her pacifier up to allow her the ability to take in a deep chest-full of air. She sighed softly, exhaling the breath and yawning right after - for as much of a yawn as a strapped pacifier would allow her to make.

Oh, what a first day yesterday had been. What a wonderful new beginning she had ahead of her. She remembered every little detail from every little event that had taken place already - from the physical sensations of the spanking and the restraints and the diapering to the tastes of those awful bottle feedings to the emotional sensations of the struggling and the obedience learned and the coddling. It had been as much of a mentally exhausting experience as it had been physically. But that was the point, really. And she couldn’t deny that. Not knowing where her life was heading was a trepidating uncertainty for her. On the other hand, knowing that the current intervention was making certain that her life was no longer going to lead her in the direction it was headed was the reassurance she not only needed, but would live vicariously through … until instructed otherwise.

Closing her eyes and arching her back as much as the strap at her waist would allow, she attempted the stretches that were feasible. Wiggling her diapered hips, she was able to crack her lower back. And that was the moment when she realized that she still had full bladder control. Now normally, this would have been good news and therefore, a great discovery. But she was strapped down in a crib and luckily, was wearing a diaper that was still dry. Luckily, indeed - because she wouldn’t be getting out of that crib until Misty came in to let her out. And from the immensely pressing need to release the fullness of her bladder, she knew that there was no need to fight another lost battle.

Relaxing her frame and turning her head to the side, she parted her thighs and began to wet her diaper as she stared through the bars of the side railing of the crib - over across the room at her small travel bag. It was the one she brought with her when she arrived yesterday morning. She now wondered when next she would use it. This was another question mark in her mind with no answer. Thankfully, she was in a setting and a place where safety was sureness and where care was the only mode of operation.

Looking back up at the ceiling above her, she grew wide-eyed as she felt the warm wetness not only beginning to pervade and make heavy the feel of the inner softness of her diaper but also beginning to trickle down into the back of her diaper. There, it began to puddle and pool and to make her bottom wet, too. And this was not a pleasant feeling at all. Releasing her bladder, on the other hand, was a glorious feeling indeed. But laying in it? Hmm. Not so much.

Thinking back to one of her less-than-fond memories of one-night stands that had gone horribly wrong for her, Dakota recalled the first time she woke up to the feel of a partner’s seeds as they rolled out of her canal. That was a pretty horrible feeling, too. And she remembered how scared she was that morning when she went to the urgent care facility, receiving that first morning-after pill. Thankfully, pee couldn’t make her pregnant. But the similarities of how she needed someone else to fix her problem were a little unsettling and somewhat eerie.

Dakota finished wetting her diaper and then lied there perfectly still for a bit. She didn’t want to move, not even a little wiggle of her hips. If the pee leaked out of her diaper, then the crib sheet beneath her would get wet and she would begin to feel the wetness on her back. Ugh. It was weird already to feel the heaviness of her diaper following gravity and trickling down to her backside. The only thing that would make all of this feel even worse would be an eventuality she would have to face in a short while when her wetness began to cool and she was still made to lay in it.

But as if the fates heard her unspoken pleas, Misty opened the nursery door and walked in like an angel who had been sent in to save Dakota from all the inevitables.

Misty wore a light blue tank top and gray yoga pants, being barefooted and with the remaining dampness in her hair of her morning shower. She seemed as fresh as a daisy and the instantaneous maternal glow that filled her eyes upon first sight of Dakota was powerfully beaming out from within her. Seeing the sweet and wonderful Misty walking into the nursery, Dakota forgot her one simple, self-enforced rule to not wiggle. And, when she wiggled the heaviness at the back of her diaper threatened to leak out. Luckily, it didn’t and the crib sheets stayed dry. But Dakota had become a fidgety mess, wanting nothing more than to hug Misty with all the affection she had within her.

Misty was the representation of all things that Dakota lacked. And Misty was also the representations and all the things that Dakota hope for. She truly was an angel, having shown several times already that she understood well what those little female insecurities felt like that often clouded a sunny day.

“Good morning, BabyGirl,” Misty said with sweetness but also with a grogginess that indicated she hadn’t spoken much yet that morning.

Regardless, Dakota squirmed like crazy. She was so overjoyed to see Misty that she had completely forgotten about the therapy, the restraints, her wet diaper and the possibility of leaking. None of those things mattered, especially since there was nothing she could do about any of them. Leaving those worries to Misty, Dakota instead focused on how good it felt to be there and to be take care of.

The therapy had indeed begun to take its effect on Dakota, even though the girl hadn’t completely put it together yet.

Lowering the side railing of the crib, Misty stroked the bangs out of Dakota’s eyes, then placing her left hand between the girl’s legs - feeling the warmth of her wet diaper. She looked back up at Dakota with, what seemed like, an even greater maternal glow about her.

Oh, Dakota melted into that crib mattress. She was a grown woman who had been reduced to a regressed pile of mush - with no more solid consistency to her than that of the pasty sludge she had been forced to drink from her baby bottle yesterday.

Misty unfastened the leather strap that held Dakota’s waist down, giving the girl the ability to wiggle the center of her body, at least. And then Dakota felt that curious tingle again, a feeling within her that was both wonderful and disagreeable, at the same time. On the one hand, she wanted to avoid the tummyflies as they reminded her of the forthcoming display of yet another bit of privacy she was now without. But on the other hand, the charm - if not fantasy - of being completely controlled while also being completely taken care of was more intoxicating than anything else she could have imagined.

And every bit of these welling emotions and sensations had come from Misty, her caring hands and her sweet voice.

“Did you sleep well, Princess?” Misty asked, unfastening the sets of tapes at the girl’s hips before walking over to the changing table and getting a few things she would need to change her.

Dakota closed her eyes and smiled brightly behind her pacifier as a warmth of affection washed out over her frame.

“Yeth,” she mumbled behind her pacifier - shifting her hips, hearing the crinkle of her wet diaper and basking in that both wanted and unwanted prickly tingle … at all the right places of her body.

Misty returned to her at crib side, setting the new diaper and a few other things between the girl’s bowed legs. Then she unfastened Dakota’s ankles from the leather straps that had tied them down to the mattress. Dakota instantly and almost instinctively bent her knees - drawing them up to her chest and parting her thighs once again.

“Good Girl! You see, you’re learning so much so quickly!” Misty said with sweetened animation as she took hold of the waist band at the front of the girl’s diaper, folding the front of it down and flat to the mattress.

Dakota shuddered a little as a cool rush of air floated over her center. Going from warmth to a chill was certainly a little shocking and with that shock came the cutest little whimper she had made yet. Misty gushed right away.

“Aww. Baby, it’s okay,” Misty said with a gentle whisper, taking a baby wipe to the girl’s front and then down between her legs.

The poor girl fidgeted something fierce, a reaction partially charged by the touch but also partially charged by the sentiments. And it was the tone Misty used - that sweet, sweet tone. It was always melodious, tender, loving and entrancing to Dakota. Whenever she was feeling an emotion that was beginning to well up inside her to a degree that would soon make it overwhelming, all she needed to hear was Misty’s voice and suddenly her little world seemed right again.

As Misty lifted the girl’s feet and legs up into the air, Dakota thought back to the fresh memories of yesterday.

So many times when she began to lose control of herself and physically battle them … or when Morgan spanked her … or when they pinned her down to allow her time to get over her tantrum … or when she was restrained - just for a bottle feeding or to be diapered - in every single one of those instances, Misty was talking to her with a sweet tone that, if Dakota had listened to her, would have calmed the girl’s nerves and settled her down with ease. That was the big lesson from yesterday, day one of her emotional therapy.

With one hand, Misty held the girl’s legs up in the air and with her other hand, she took another baby wipe to the girl’s bottom. Dakota smiled warmly behind her pacifier. Oh, what a gentle touch Misty had and it felt so wonderful to get that wet feeling off her bottom - the stinging warmth turning to a cool cleanliness. It was like a bath in mid-air. Dakota let out a contented sigh behind her pacifier, happy that she could smile … now that that awful gag was gone.

“You have very smooth, clear skin,” Misty said softly - setting the wipe aside, sliding the wet diaper away and picking up the new diaper to unfold it. “I spent years of my life obsessing over the tiniest little blemish on my legs. But you’ve found a way to remain mark-free.”

Listening to the crinkly sounds of her new diaper being unfolded and placed flat to the crib mattress, Dakota felt those flutterances in her tummy again. She was not only becoming accustomed to wearing a diaper, but she was also becoming accustomed to welcoming in all the pleasant emotions that the diapering and the whole baby treatment always gave her.

“Your skin is so soft, baby. And that’s why you love to feel softness against it,” Misty said sweetly, putting her hand under the new diaper and lifting it up to touch its inner softness to Dakota’s raised bottom - Dakota turning to mush and slowly nursing on her pacifier as she gazed up at Misty with elation. “That’s my BabyGirl. That’s my good little baby.”

Misty returned the diaper to a flattened position on the crib mattress and picked up the container of baby powder, turning the top and opening it. Dakota smiled warmly once more behind her pacifier. Oh, the powder was wonderful. It not only smelled nice but it always gave her that cool, silky feeling when it was put on her body.

Knowingly, Misty grinned a sweet smile.

“Most girls wouldn’t admit to it, but we all love the baby powder, don’t we?” Misty asked, Dakota nodding and blushing. “It’s okay. We’ll keep it a secret. There are things that only we girls should ever share with each other. It’s girl code, right?”

Dakota laughed softly, her face beaming with a smile - made even more adorable by the presence of the pacifier.

She would have looked even more adorable still, had the pacifier not been held in her mouth by a leather strap around her head. Her mitt-covered hands would have been a more adorable sight to behold as well, if they weren’t currently restrained to the mattress with leather straps. Her bootie-covered feet, currently free of cuffs and restraints, would have been even more adorable also - if they wouldn’t wind up back in ankle cuffs … once the diaper change was over. But everything showed progress and before long, Dakota wouldn’t need restraints. She wouldn’t want to fight back or defy or try to run away.

She just wasn’t quite there yet … hence, the purpose and need for the emotional therapy.

Misty coated the girl’s bottom with an abundant amount of baby powder - more than what was necessary but all of which being welcomed. Then she returned the girl’s lower half back to the crib mattress, her legs relaxing and her thighs parting as her bottom came to rest in the thick inner softness of her new diaper.

“I think you’ve earned a few things already, baby,” Misty said, coating the girl’s front with the powder and caressing it out evenly - from hip to hip and down between the girl’s legs. “Good BabyGirls are rewarded for being good. And any BabyGirl would feel out-of-place if her hair wasn’t put up in some adorable way.”

Dakota raised an eyebrow, wondering what Misty was getting at, but she remained still and free of wiggles as the front of her diaper was drawn up and into place - the tapes fastened snuggly at her hips.

And there the girl would remain as Misty rolled up the wet diaper into a ball - taping it and filing it away in the diaper pail by the side of the changing table. Misty then returned to crib side with the wrist restraints, the ankle restraints, a hair brush and some cute pink ribbons.

The sight of the restraints sunk Dakota’s happiness down a bit, but she didn’t fuss as Misty put the ankle cuffs back on her - nor did she fuss when her hands were taken out of the crib straps, each wrist receiving its return of the garnishment of wrist cuffs. But Misty didn’t connect the cuffs to each other - giving the girl the ability to keep her arms and legs free for movement. But the presence of those restraints on her made clear how they could be easily reconnected and put back into full use at the first sign of misbehavior or fuss.

Misty helped the girl down out of the crib, having her sit on the circular rug - facing away from the crib. Misty sat on the crib side and began to brush out the girl’s locks with such precision and care that each strand was soon smooth and straight. Across the room and on the far wall was a mirror that stretched down to the floor. So Dakota was able to watch Misty brushing her hair out. And then she was able to watch the pink ribbons being used to hold up the high pigtails that Misty was creating at the back of her head.

What a fun, little bit of girly bonding to start the second day of her emotional therapy. Sometimes, it wasn’t the biggest gesture of kindness and affection that was the most noted or had the greatest effect. Often, it was those finite little things that could make all the difference in someone’s world.

Misty stood Dakota to her feet and took hold of the girl’s right hand, leading her out into the hallway and heading for the top of the stairs. Dakota crinkled along trying not to laugh at how she actually enjoyed the little sensations that the powdered and freshly-changed diaper produced at her center. It seemed a new diaper had the ability to crinkle even more loudly than one she had used or had worn for a while. That made good, basic sense. Dakota took hold of the staircase railing and began to walk down the stairs with full use of her arms and her legs. It truly felt like a privilege to be able to walk like a lady again - with almost the same gracefulness as Misty … the main difference being the waddle Dakota couldn’t avoid making.

“I’m so proud of you, Dakota. I can’t really put it to words, but I want you to know - every time I see you grow a little inside, I’m proud of you,” Misty said with sweetness as they got to the bottom of the stairs. “Come into the living room with Mommy. It’s time for a bottle.”

And with that, Misty walked into the living room, Dakota standing there and looking at the front door. It was only a few feet from her. Her hands were still covered with mitts and her wrists adorned the restraint cuffs, but the cuffs weren’t connected. Her feet were covered with booties and her ankles wore the restraints cuffs, but those cuffs weren’t connected either. Yes, she had a pacifier in her mouth, secured with a strap around her head. And yes, she was wearing nothing but her diaper. Regardless of all of those things, she could easily run over to the door, open it and escape to freedom.

She waddled over to the entryway to the living room, looking at Misty sitting on the sofa and offering her lap for the bottle feeding. Then Dakota looked back at the front door, wondering why Misty was allowing her the possibility of escape. Was this a test? And where was Morgan? Was he standing outside the door?

Even with those questions in mind, her greatest confusion was why she was hesitating to leave. That unguarded door represented her escape back to freedom, freedom from this place. But on the other side of that door was the world that had rejected her, that had taken her for granted and that had, in a sense, abused her. Here in this house, she received all the attention she could handle. She was loved, cared for and nurtured in a manner she had never known.

Dakota truly had done well inside of a day. She had made concessions she normally would not have. Yes, she had lost privileges from poor behavior, but she had also received some of them back. Her cuffs being disconnected was a new thing. The pacifier had replaced that awful spouted mouthpiece gag thing. And on top of it all, Misty had given her high pigtails.

Such little things, little gestures. Why would they have encouraged Dakota to remain in that house? Last night, she could have been at a bar, swilling down a few Coronas and enjoying the blessing of a week off from work. But would she have woken up in yet another one-night stand stranger’s bed this morning?

Pigtails weren’t the ultimate sign of anything. But the fact that Misty gave them to her was what finally enabled Dakota to make the conscious decision to walk over and lay down across Misty’s lap. And she wondered when her good behavior would warrant the return of clothing … or of make-up ……… or of underwear.

Misty held the baby bottle in her right hand, reaching to the back of Dakota’s head with her left hand and untying the straps that held the pacifier in the girl’s mouth.

“Open,” Misty said sweetly, touching the rubber nipple of the baby bottle to Dakota’s bottom lip - Dakota parting her lips and taking the nipple between her teeth before drawing in the first mouthful from the bottle. “You’re being such a good girl this morning. Mommy is very, very proud of you.”

The moment the fluid entered Dakota’s mouth, her eyes grew big and wide as she knew right away that it was apple juice, not formula. It was little things like that which meant so much to her. Maybe it was because, in her regular life, she really hadn’t received the kind of attention she truly craved. Oh, she could certainly get attention at any point in time she wanted it, but it wasn’t necessarily good attention. And in her horrid experiences, bad attention wasn’t necessarily better than no attention at all.

It seemed kind of silly to fill Dakota’s stomach with the morning yoga exercises to follow. But then again, if Dakota peed, it really wouldn’t matter. As she nursed from the bottle, cradled in Misty’s arms and across Misty’s lap, Dakota shifted to the side slightly to get a better view of the TV. Misty apparently was as much of a fanatic of the sitcom New Girl as Dakota.

The yoga exercises were going to begin right after Dakota finished her morning bottle. But an hour later, the two were still sitting on the couch, laughing their heads off as they watched the sitcom.

“Okay, let’s go,” Misty said as she turned the TV off, she and Dakota getting down on the blue yoga mat and facing one another. “Kneel up, put your knees together and sit back on your haunches.”

“What are haunches?” Dakota asked.

“Your butt. Sit your butt on the back of your heels,” Misty said, kneeling and sitting on her heels, Dakota following suit. “Touch your big toes together and separate your knees about as wide as your hips.”

Dakota tilted her head to the side, wanting to ask a silly question, but resisting the urge.

“As wide as your actual hips, not as wide as your diapered hips,” Misty said, Dakota finding the right width. “Oh! I almost forgot!”

Misty knelt up, leaned over to the end table by the side of the sofa and got Dakota’s pacifier.

“Noooo,” Dakota jested, having felt a lot of comfort in the normality of the morning - all things considered.

“Baby, you’re gonna need this as a reminder to breathe through your nose. In through the nose and out through the nose, the whole time,” Misty said, putting the pacifier in the girl’s mouth and tying the straps at the back of her head before returning to her kneeling position - Dakota pouting a little. “Now, close your eyes and breathe in deeply through your nostrils. And when you exhale, breathe out slowly and evenly through your nostrils as you lean over.”

Dakota did as Misty instructed, closing her eyes and breathing deeply - then leaning over as she exhaled through her nose.

“Keep exhaling and stretched your arms straight out,” Misty instructed. “Bring your forehead down to rest on the mat.”

Dakota did her able best to bend over that far. It wasn’t for a lack of flexibility, but rather, for the presence of something at her waist that was a lot thicker and more obtrusive than form-fitting yoga pants.

“Now remain in that position and keeping breathing deeply through the nose. And every time you exhale, try to bend down a bit more,” Misty instructed, getting up and repositioning herself behind Dakota to help the girl bend lower when exhaling. “Yoga is the art of finding balance within your body and your nervous system. By creating tension in various places on your body and then releasing that tension, you have the ability to exercise your inner core.”

Everything always seemed about what was going on inside Dakota. It didn’t matter what Dakota did, Misty was determined to make the girl travel inside herself to deal with a few things she had neglected for quite some time.

“Now breathe out as deeply as you can,” Misty said, placing her hands on Dakota’s lower lumbar and pressing in on the girl’s back during the exhale.

Misty pushed the girl’s upper torso closer to the floor during the exhale and then eased off when the girl started breathing in again. Misty would do this again and again. And each time, Dakota’s back lowered just as bit more until she could not physically be any closer to the floor - from a kneeling position.

Her breaths were deep - filling and expanding her chest, stomach, abdomen, ribs and the small of her back.

“Inhale,” Misty instructed, easing up her press on the girl’s back - Dakota not believing she could stretch down any closer to the floor. “Now exhale.”

Misty placed both of her knees up against the back of Dakota’s diapered bottom, then pressing both of her hands down on the girl’s lower lumbar. And Dakota stretched down, closer to the floor than before, much to her surprise. And though Misty didn’t explain it, Dakota picked up on the fact that she had just gone a bit further than she believed herself capable. Maybe it would have sped the process along if Misty had given explanation, but the progress that would remain and hopefully make a difference for Dakota would be the discoveries she made on her own - in her own time.

“Now I want you to sit up, cross your legs and put them in the lotus position,” Misty instructed, helping the girl to sit up and find a way to manipulate her legs into a crossed fashion - given the heavy padding at the girl’s center. “Press your butt bones into the floor and sit straight up. Lengthen that spine with good posture.”

Dakota found the good-postured position and breathed in deeply.

“Now close your eyes, BabyGirl. And stop using your senses to limit yourself,” Misty said, Dakota closing her eyes - Misty then turning a music channel on.

A playlist of Enya music began to play.

“Place your left hand on your right knee,” Misty said, Dakota placing her left hand on her left knee and Misty helping her make the correction. “No, you’re other right knee.”

Dakota smiled behind her pacifier, trying to remain focused.

“Inhale and lengthen your spin. Reach up with the top of your head, then exhale and twist your torso to the right,” Misty instructed, Dakota twisting with the exhale - Misty keeping her hands on the sides of the girl’s rib cage and helping her to twist a bit further. “That’s it. Now hold that position for a few seconds more.”

And as Dakota remained in that twisted position, she felt her shoulder and her abdomen beginning to shake - ever-so-slightly but still shaking. She began to breathe in a choppy manner, erratically and quickly - an action Misty just as quickly addressed.

“Take a deep breath, baby,” Misty said, putting her left hand on the left side of Dakota’s abdomen for the physical support and her right hand on the girl’s right shoulder for the same reason. “Keeping breathing in, deeper … deeper.”

Dakota felt her lungs reaching their capacity hold of oxygen, her gut filling the same way and then certain muscles in her lower back puffing out for the complete fill of oxygen.

“Now exhale fully and quickly,” Misty directed, Dakota doing so - breathing all the air out through her nose.

And when she exhaled this time, Misty turned the girl’s torso just a bit more in the twisted direction with the greatest of ease.

“Now breathe in again and twist back to center. And you’re going to do all of that again, in the opposite direction,” Misty said, releasing her grip of the Dakota’s torso as the girl turned back to center.

Dakota repeated the twisting process, in the opposite direction. Misty sat behind her and verbally coached her but offered no physical support. Beginning to believe that she was capable of a greater amount of movement than she had given herself credit for, Dakota did the full twist to the left. Then she breathed in to full capacity and exhale, twisting herself a bit further in direction of the turn.

Misty smiled brightly, watching the girl begin to believe. It was a very teary-eyed moment that brought every maternal emotion out of her. The purpose of doing yoga with Dakota wasn’t to cure the girl in one shot or to make her more limber. It was just to make her begin to believe in herself, in her capabilities.

New struggles were ahead for Dakota on that day. But as Misty eased the girl down onto her back on the blue yoga mat, she knew that Dakota would not only make it through the entire therapy session alright - but also that the girl would retain the lessons she had learned along the way.





Chapter Eight


Tuesday afternoon

The clock in the kitchen showed the noon hour. Misty was very good at keeping a schedule. It was like she had some sort of natural ability to keep time inside her. Noon was always the lunch hour - whether lunch started right away at that chime or a few minutes later.

Misty put Dakota’s lunch in the microwave, then turning around to face her. Ah yes, one of the secrets of how to keep a time schedule so effective and exact … the ever-ready ability to nuke the food. Another one of the secrets? That would be to show who is in charge. But Misty wasn’t a domineering individual who had no purpose. Quite to the contrary, she always had intent as effective and exacting and important as how she kept a schedule.

And this was why Dakota was sitting in a high chair in the center of kitchen - right at the stroke of noon. Her wrist cuffs were attached to the arms of the high chair and her ankle cuffs were attached to the front legs of it. Her pacifier had been taken out of her mouth, her high pigtails were tied up just a bit higher for lunch and the diaper girl had the cutest little bib on - white in color (at least to start) with pink edgings and a kitten on the front. But how Dakota got from her lay on that blue mat in the living room to now being restrained to a high chair in the center of the kitchen was a story in itself:

When their morning yoga ended, Misty had laid the girl down on that blue mat, easing her onto her back and then doing a series of massages to certain muscles on the front of the girl’s body to further help her relax. With her body made to physically exert but then relax into ease, Dakota felt the ever-present stresses of her body being relieved. It was quite relaxing indeed and what she discovered was how her emotions were so closely related to her physical discomforts. Certainly, Dakota already understood that concept when it was her time of the month. Everything was horribly connected, at that point. But she was also learning how the daily stresses within her muscles could produce greater discomforts in her mind and heart and her soul.

The morning consisted, in large part, of activities that were calmer. But the overlying direction Dakota was given was that she was not allowed to get off the blue yoga mat. Misty didn’t leave her there alone, however. She stayed right by the diaper girl’s side - having the girl help her with her scrapbooking hobby.

Misty was a fanatic about flowers and she made scrapbooks of pictures of flowers she found in magazines. She would cut the pictures out and put them into the pages of her scrap book. Having mitts on her hands, Dakota couldn’t help much with cutting the pictures out, but she was able to flip through the magazine pages and keep them open to pages that had flowers on them.

Throughout the morning, Dakota was introduced to the sippy cup, again and again. Her wrists and ankles remained in the restraints but the restraints still weren’t connected to each other. So she retained the use of her arms and legs. But, not leaving the blue yoga mat, she never stood up and therefore, never used her legs. What she was able to do was to hold the sippy cup in her mitt-covered hands and swill down the drinks she was given. Most of the drinks were fruity in flavor, from orange juice to fruit punch to more apple juice. And having a little liquid in her actually made her feel better inside.

They talked about absolutely everything in their lives, this being the first opportunity for Misty to hear what Dakota’s life was about and how it had affected her - from Dakota’s point of view as opposed to the point of view of Carolina … Dakota’s older sister.

Morgan was nowhere to be found yet that day and eventually, Dakota asked where he was. Misty explained that Morgan was running a few errands - his usual Tuesday habit.

A few minutes before noon, Misty turned on another episode of the sitcom ‘New Girl’ - leaving Dakota to watch it as she went into the kitchen to prepare the girl’s lunch.

Pausing the show, Misty took Dakota by the hand and led her into the kitchen. And oh my, did the tummyflies flutter when Dakota saw the high chair. It was the silliest idea imaginable, every time she saw it. But unlike yesterday, Dakota didn’t quell when she was placed in the high chair. Yesterday had a completely different vibe to it. Today had more of a fun-loving feel. It had been all about girl-time since she awoke. And since there was no spouted gag in her mouth, Dakota knew that she wouldn’t be forced to swallow that gooey, disgusting mush against her will. Or so that’s what she thought.

No sooner did Dakota settle her diapered bottom on the seat of the high chair than Misty had the girl’s wrist cuffs connected to the little metal hoops at the end of each of the arms of the chair. Then the girl’s ankle cuffs were attached to the front legs of the chair and before Dakota could make any verbal fuss, the pacifier was reinserted in her mouth and the straps were tied around her head.

DING! The microwave sounded, Misty opening the door and getting out the bowl of soup that would be Dakota’s lunch. Then Misty put the bowl in the freezer above the fridge. Well that seemed really stupid since she just heated it up! But Dakota had no time to focus in on why Misty had decided to cool down the soup. Instead, she refocused on Misty’s quick journey over to the pantry and the little plastic tray she got down from the top shelf.

Dakota’s senses had been reawakened the moment her cuffs had been put back into practical use. And as she watched Misty place a stool in front of the high chair, then placing that plastic tray on the stool, Dakota realized she wasn’t going to be feeding herself lunch. But what Dakota didn’t yet know was that the bowl that was chilling in the freezer didn’t have soup in it.

Misty got the bowl out of the freezer, walking over and setting it on the plastic tray. Then she picked up the plastic tray and locked it into place on the arms of the high chair. Dakota looked down at the contents she would be eating. It looked like oatmeal that had been put through a blender several times. There was still warmth to it and as Misty stirred the colorless sludge around with a little spoon, Dakota’s head began to spin. This was another test she was being put through.

… and the day had been going so wonderfully well.

What had she done wrong?

Was this a bit more punishment for her behavior yesterday?

Did she need to apologize to Misty?

Was that why Misty had allowed her to spend the morning without that pacifier in her mouth?

Had Misty been waiting to hear Dakota’s apology?

Was it too late to apologize now?

If Dakota mumbled the apology behind her pacifier, would Misty be willing to accept it?

Misty took a seat on the stool, that smiling maternal glow on her face confusing Dakota even more. Perhaps Misty wasn’t looking for apologies. Maybe the morning had just been an awarded break from the therapy. Dakota really had pieced together how Misty made her comfortable and in doing so, enabled the girl to open up about her problems. But those head games weren’t at the forefront of things right now. Another bit of forced activity was about to begin.

“I made you something wonderful for lunch, baby,” Misty said, scooting the stool closer to the high chair and taking a seat before she reached behind Dakota’s head - untying the straps and taking the pacifier out of the girl’s mouth. “And I know you’re gonna be a good girl for Mommy.”

Oh, did the tummyflies mix with the tingles, making Dakota a fidgety mess. With an unrestricted mouth, she could’ve yelled for help just then. But she had been slowly building a rapport with Misty, learning to trust her and learning to listen to her. And if Dakota had yelled for help, she would’ve affected Misty in the process.

Little by little, Dakota was beginning to realize how her actions not only hurt herself but also hurt others. And with a steadily balancing existence, she was also beginning to take to heart all the things that mattered the most - as well as a few that had only been after-thoughts for her in the past.

Progress in action, in other words.

Misty stirred the spoon in the mushy lunch and then scooped up the first of many heaping spoonfuls. Dakota’s shoulders sagged and her chin lowered as her bottom lip puffed out in pout. No, no. Please, no. But Misty, being the ever-patient and ever-understanding Mommy (as well as the current BFF in Dakota’s rapidly changing world), placed two fingers under the girl’s dipping chin and lifted her eyes back up.

“Be a good girl,” Misty whispered with sweetness, the glassiness in her eyes showing the hope she so very wanted to see become success within Dakota. “Open your mouth, baby.”

Dakota turned to mush inside, no more solid than the mush on that spoon. How could she resist Misty anymore? This woman had been so gracious and caring that it would be a deliberate insult to defy her. But not every action in life could always show the intentions of her heart. If that were the case, Dakota would never have been in danger of destroying herself and she never would have met Misty.

“Open … please,” Misty said with a softer whisper of sweetness, Dakota welling tears in her eyes. “Be a good girl for Mommy.”

With a dwindling hesitance, Dakota opened her mouth - but not the whole way. She was trying, trying so hard to be a good girl. But that was an easier said statement than action, especially when what she was being asked to do was something that she simply couldn’t stand. Just being told what to do was a difficult thing for Dakota to listen to, but actually obeying without any reaction seemed like an impossible goal she would never reach.

“Open wider,” Misty whispered, continuing to keep her fingers under the girl’s chin to prevent it from lowering again.

Dakota opened her lips just a bit more, her tear-filled eyelids telling the tale of her current angst. Then Misty slid the spoon into the girl’s mouth - all the way until the rounded end disappeared behind her lips. Dakota closed her eyes and whimpered - as much as the intrusion into her mouth would allow her to. On the way in, the heaping amount of mush on the spoon had made contact with her upper lip and some of the mush remained on her upper lip.

“That’s a good baby. That’s my good little girl,” Misty said with a melodious sweet tone as she angled the spoon handle upward - drawing the spoon head out of the girl’s mouth while leaving the mushy heap in her mouth.

Dakota closed her lips. Oh, my goodness. What, on God’s green Earth, could possibly have been mixed together in that bowl to make such a disgusting taste in such an unappealing mush? It didn’t seem right that even hardcore criminals should ever be subjected to eating this horrible slop. Oh, my. It was just downright repulsive.

Dakota squinted her eyes tightly, trying to get past the putrid flavor of the mush crap as it mixed with the saliva in her mouth. Oh, this was terrible, just terrible. She opened her lips again, hoping to let some cool air into her mouth. And when she did this, Misty swiped the mush off the girl’s top lip with the tip of the spoon. Then she scooped another heaping spoonful of the nasty sludge out of the bowl and gently inserted it into Dakota’s mouth.

Oh, no. Now Dakota’s mouth was full with that rancid muck. Did Misty really expect her to swallow it? What a stupid question to ask herself. Of course, Misty expected it.

“Swallow, baby,” Misty said, dipping the spoon in the bowl again.

Well, there was the confirmation. Swallowing that hideousness without throwing it back up wasn’t going to be an easy thing to do.

“Baby?” Misty said, raising the spoon up to the girl’s lips again. “Swallow.”

Dakota began to tremble, knowing it wouldn’t do any good to try to make excuses - even physical ones for why she couldn’t do a simple basic physical thing like swallowing. But still, she shook. And then … she swallowed.

Oh my. The gulp took forever and the sludge felt like it was thicker than that which was forced fed to her in those baby bottles yesterday. It had no good flavor to it and quite honestly, tasted like rotten eggs. After swallowing it, she tried to gag herself, sticking her tongue out and making it seem like she was choking from the mere flavor of it.

“Dakota,” Misty said, startling the girl out of her fake tantrum when she heard Misty use her real name.

Misty was still holding the third spoonful up to Dakota’s mouth. The poor girl shook her head no. There was no way she was going to allow another drop of that crap to be put in her mouth.

“We can go back to using that awful gag, if you want,” Misty said, setting the spoonful of mush back in the bowl.

Dakota sucked in her lips and clamped down. Her jaw wasn’t going to open, no matter how guilty Misty made her feel. This was one battle of will power she was going to win - even if she was tied down to a high chair, bibbed and kept naked but a diaper.

“Baby, do you want to go back to that gag? Do you want Mommy to connect your wrists and ankles?” Misty asked. “Daddy will be home soon. Do you wanna find yourself held down on the yoga mat, struggling to the point where you tire yourself out again?”

Dakota looked up at Misty, the painful recent memories filling the diaper girl’s eyes and giving the answer of no that she couldn’t voice.

“Open your mouth, baby. Or Mommy will have no choice but to go get that gag,” Misty said, sweetly but honestly. “And we can start all over again.”

Defeated, Dakota opened her mouth, already sobbing as the next spoonful of nastiness filled her mouth. And then the next one. And then the next one. And quickly, the girl had a second mouthful of sludge to deal with.

“Swallow, baby,” Misty said, dipping the spoon in the bowl of mush yet again - Dakota closing her lips once more and trying to mount a defense. “I wouldn’t recommend you spit that food out at me.”

Dakota raised an eyebrow, silently thanking Misty for the idea.

“Daddy told you that he didn’t want to spank you again,” Misty said, stirring the contents of the bowl as she referenced Morgan’s statement to Dakota after he spanked her yesterday. “And to tell you the truth, he won’t spank you again. He can’t. He doesn’t have it within him.”

Okay. So why was Misty telling her this? Was that supposed to convince her to swallow, verifying she wouldn’t have to worry about another spanking? How was that going to help Misty at the moment?

“Morgan may not spank you again …,” Misty said with a less friendly tone as she glared at Dakota - the diaper girl’s heart beginning to pound. “But I will … if I must. Any Mommy would.”

Dakota’s eyes grew big and wide, having finally heard the less-than-kind side of Misty. No one was perfect but the look in Misty’s eyes showed how serious she was. Instead of swallowing, Dakota whimpered even harder, hoping Misty would give in and soften up.

“Baby, I understand why you fight,” Misty said, reaching up to Dakota and stroking the bangs out of the girl’s eyes. “And I wished I could help you to understand why fighting only prolongs the arrival of the answer you’re looking for.”

Dakota tilted her head slightly. What Misty was getting at?

“I once had my struggles, too,” Misty confessed. “Everybody struggles. Everybody fights. But eventually, everybody has to listen to the reason they have been neglecting to hear.”

Dakota flared her nostrils, still attempting to keep the sludge in her mouth while mounting a glaring defense.

“Daddy sometimes uses his leather belt for spankings. He almost used his belt on you,” Misty admitted, continuing to fuel their brahma bull stare-down. “Mommy will use a pot stick.”

Dakota instantly drew back from the visual battle, the thought of wood being taken to her back side rippling through all her senses.

“I know how to spank someone so that those nerves that produce pleasurable sensations aren’t affected at all,” Misty said, coldly and bluntly. “So, a spanking from Mommy will hurt … and nothing more.”

Dakota closed her eyes, weeping inconsolably.

“Make your decision, baby,” Misty said, a return of sweetness in her tone. “Mommy will love you no matter what you choose to do. But please remember, you will be here as long as this takes. And every time you fall, Mommy will pick you back up.”

Dakota tired of holding the mush in her mouth. Opening her eyes, she saw Misty’s eyes filled with tears too - awaiting the girl’s decision.

“Do what you’re going to do, baby. But you will face the consequences of your decision,” Misty said, sweetly but with seriousness in her tone as well - taking the bib off from around Dakota’s neck and waiting for the girl to make up her sassy little mind. “Everybody has to learn, some way.”

Oh, my. Ergh, how frustrating! For as much as Dakota’s blood boiled, she still couldn’t bring herself to spit the food back out at Misty. At the same time, there was no way she going to swallow it. So, she found herself in a middle of dilemma she couldn’t find a way out of that would be mutually agreeable.

Not knowing what else to do, Dakota opened her mouth and allow the mush to dribble out between her lips. The mush fell from her mouth and landed on her sternum, making a mess on the front of her body. And to add a bit of spitefulness to it, Dakota kept drawing the remnants of the mush out of her mouth, spitting it all straight down onto the front of her body. It was the only alternative to spitting it at Misty.

And Misty sat there on the stool, her hands folded and placed on her lap as she watched Dakota coat the front of her body with the mush.

“I’m proud of you, BabyGirl. You made up your mind and you did what you were going to do,” Misty said supportively, then disconnecting the girl’s ankle cuffs from the front legs of the high chair before connecting the girl’s ankle cuffs to each other.

“What did I do wrong?” Dakota asked with a whine in her voice as Misty detached the tray from the front of the high chair and walked it over to the kitchen counter. “I don’t understand what I did wrong.”

Misty returned to Dakota, detaching the girl’s right wrist cuff from the right arm of the high chair and then connecting the both of the girl’s wrists cuffs to one another before detaching the left wrist cuffs from the left arm of the high chair. Grabbing the pacifier, Misty put it back into Dakota’s mouth and tied the straps behind the girl’s head.

The time for talking had ended.

In the blink of an eye, Misty had Dakota up and off that high chair, practically dragging the diaper girl across the kitchen and making her kneel on the foot wiping mat at the back door of the kitchen.

“You will kneel right there till Daddy gets home and if you get up,” Misty said with obvious emotion in her voice as she yanked the back of the girl’s diaper down below her bottom. “… you will regret it.”

And there Dakota kneeled, her chin lowered but her eyes looking through the glass of the back door of the kitchen - into the back yard and over to that little trail Morgan had told her about … the trail lined with white stones. She nursed on her pacifier, trying to find anything that would distract her from the present moment.

Maybe the greatest mind game of the current for her was the fact that the back of her diaper had been lowered and tucked just under the very lower edge of her bottom cheeks. She was displayed perfectly for another spanking while still having the nerve-endings at the underside of her bottom protected. Those were the nerve-endings that also traveled up between her legs and, if struck in such a manner, could produce certain types of pleasure. Since they definitely wouldn’t be struck, the spanking would only hurt and nothing more.

That was it! That’s what Misty meant by her spankings hurting … and nothing more. And pot sticks! Oh, my. Dakota was kneeling in the kitchen and there were several containers of pot sticks on the counters. GULP! Misty must not have been lying. She hadn’t been bluffing and Dakota could feel her legs beginning to tremble already from the mere thought of being held down again and spanked.

“Mommy loves you, baby,” Misty said, standing right behind her. “But Mommy is disappointed by your bad behavior.”

There was a big shock.

“Bad behavior always warrants punishment,” Misty said with ill-placed sweetness as she knelt down behind the girl.

Dakota was on the verge of losing her mind, her whole frame beginning to tremble. Was Misty getting ready to prove that she never bluffed? Was there a pot stick in her right hand, her arm raising high in the air at that very moment, preparing to deliver the first strike?

Misty took hold of the ankle cuffs at the girl’s feet, gripping the metal loops in between and holding them firmly. Dakota wouldn’t be able to get away, even if she tried.

With new tears forming in her eyes and a runny nose making the need for a series of new sniffles, Dakota nursed more rapidly on her pacifier - trying not to cry aloud, but whimpering a small bit before she felt the first few trickles of pee leaking out of her and depositing themselves into the front of her diaper.

Clamping down on her groin muscles, Dakota sunk her teeth into the rubber nipple of her pacifier - staring out through the glass of the back door of the kitchen. Oh, she wanted to scream. Oh, she wanted to cry. Oh, she wanted to curl up into a ball on the floor and just give up.

Misty disconnected the ankle cuffs from each other and tied a small length of hemp rope between them. Dakota had no idea what was going on. Was she about to be tied up with rope? What was about to happen?

“You will crawl from the rest of this day,” Misty said, standing back up. “If I see you get onto your feet, you’ll know clearly what the fat end of a pot stick feels like.”

Dakota just kept trembling and before much longer, gave up the battle of clenched groin muscles. Flooding her diaper uncontrollably, she emptied her bladder of all the drinks she had consumed that morning by sippy cup. Oh, how embarrassing - to be kneeling there, shackled at her wrists and ankles, gagged by a pacifier, naked, messy from lunch and diapered … while peeing so quickly and so loudly that her diaper’s absorption of it all was audible.

And to top it all off, the front door opened and then closed. Morgan had returned. Oh, perfect! What horrible timing. That was just great.

“Hello?” Morgan called up the stairs.

“We’re in the kitchen, honey!” Misty said, walking over to the counter and leaning up against it while folding her arms.

Morgan walked into the kitchen, seeing Dakota kneeling in front of the back door with the back of her diaper lowered to the underside of her bottom and then seeing Misty leaning up against the counter with a disgusted look on her face. He sighed and walked up behind Dakota.

“And what have we here?” Morgan asked with that deep timbre that always made Dakota tingle.

“What we have is a sassy little girl who refuses to eat her lunch,” Misty replied, then walking over and standing next to Morgan as they both looked down at Dakota. “She would much rather challenge Mommy than cooperate.”

“Is that right?” Morgan asked, then pausing to decide what next would happen. “Dakota, turn around and face us.”

Shaking like a leaf, Dakota turned around to face them, still kneeling and then lowering her chin.

“I’ve already taken away her walking privileges for today,” Misty said, trying to fight back her own tears - those being of anger.

“I see no reason for this little baby to walk any time soon,” Morgan said, folding his arms. “Dakota, look … up … at … me … now.”

Continuing to flood her diaper from being wracked with fear, Dakota looked up at Morgan - tears streaming out of the corners of her eyes. And though the girl’s crying appearance practically destroyed Misty, it had no effect, whatsoever, on Morgan.

“Dakota, you are not going to leave this house until you have made a recovery that is satisfactory to both me and her,” Morgan said, pointing to Misty - Dakota looking over at Misty and then quickly lowering her chin again when she saw how hard Misty was weeping. “Look at her, Dakota. Look at her.”

Dakota lifted her eyes, looking up at Misty and crying with her.

“Maybe you still don’t realize what you have in common with Misty,” Morgan said, Dakota’s eyes growing big and wide. “Maybe if you would listen to your Mommy, she might tell you.”

Then Morgan knelt down, getting eye-level with her.

“But I will tell this…,” Morgan said, his deep timbre having a shocking amount of seriousness to it. “If you defy her or me even the slightest little bit more, if you hesitate to do the simple things we are asking you to do, if you fight or fuss or throw any sort of temper tantrum at all … you will feel Mommy’s pot stick … and then you will feel my belt.”

Dakota started peeing yet again until her bladder ran empty.

“Have I made myself abundantly clear to you?” he asked, Dakota nodding yes very slowly.

Morgan stood to his feet, reached behind the sobbing girl, pulled her diaper back up into place and then swatted her diapered bottom with a tremendous amount of force. Dakota fell over, catching herself by putting her hands on the floor. And there she remained, on her hands and her knees, awaiting the next bit of torturous treatment. Though shaking like a leaf, from head to toe, she kept her arms from giving way. Her tears rolled down from her eyes and dripped off her cheek bones, making little puddles on the floor.

“Now you crawl back over to your high chair right now, little lady,” Morgan said, Misty walking back over the counter as Dakota did her best to crawl with her restraints - making small movements.

And in her mind, she was reliving that swat to the back of her diapered bottom - over and over. It didn’t hurt at all, but certainly jolted her senses and her mind and her esteem.

Getting over to the front of the high chair, she knelt up - Morgan picking her up and setting her in the chair. Dakota closed her eyes and shuddered as she felt her toosh coming to rest in the warm pee that had saturated her diaper. Ugh. Misty and Morgan reconnected the girl’s wrists and ankles to the high chair and then Misty got the plastic tray from the counter, re-attaching it to the arms of the high chair.

“Now,” Morgan said, reaching behind the girl’s head and untying the strap ends holding her pacifier in place. “Mommy is going to try feeding you lunch again. If you fight her, you’re going straight back to that gag mouth piece. You don’t want that, do you?”

“No,” Dakota said, Morgan having freed her mouth of the pacifier.

Morgan took the sides of her face in his hands, kissing her forehead.

“Be a good girl for your Mommy,” he whispered to her before stepping back and allowing Misty to begin the spoon feeding again.

“Open wide,” Misty said sweetly, holding the spoonful of mush up to the girl’s lips - Dakota lifting her chin and parting her lips as the spoon slid into her mouth. “That’s a good girl.”

Dakota swirled the mush around in her mouth, then stretching her neck and swallowing it. Oh, this was going to be miserable, but under Morgan’s watchful eye, she found a way to get through it - but not before she made a mess of the front of her body again.





Chapter Nine


Tuesday evening

Dakota opened her eyes and squinted as she looked up at the brightly-lit ceiling of her nursery. Blinking a few times, she looked over at the small digital clock that sat on the dresser across the room. If anything, Dakota truly loved waking up in a crib. Yes, she was tied down and yes, her wake-up always seemed to include an urgency to pee or the wet diaper evidence that she had relieved herself in her sleep. But the charm - the fantasy of it all, if you will - was somehow becoming attractive to her and quite alluring indeed.

It was 4:30pm, late on that Tuesday afternoon, and it already felt like she had been in that house for weeks. The emotional therapy she was receiving was intense, to say the least about it. Misty and Morgan never wasted a second of time when they could be coaxing, coddling or forcing Dakota to come to terms with some aspect of the reason why she was admitted into their care.

Feeling that same cramp in her gut that had plagued her all that afternoon, she arched her lower back - trying to stretch the cramp out. Thankfully, it wasn’t one of those kinds of cramps. But it had been steadily getting worse since she finished her lunch.

Despite her initial efforts, Dakota succumbed to the mushy bowl of nastiness and, after having been set straight about a few things, did indeed cooperate with Misty to finish her lunch while restrained to that high chair. And, just as decreed, Dakota would not walk on her feet since lunch, not even once. She was made to crawl from room to room. And her lone direction, beyond crawling, was to follow Misty wherever she went.

All afternoon, Misty walked around the house and dusted everything. Since a good portion of the interior was woodwork that had been handcrafted by Morgan, Misty had a lot to dust. Thinking she would gain back some brownie points, Dakota asked if she could help to dust the house interior. Well … the brownie points were given to her, Dakota being allowed to dust anything she could reach - from a kneeling position, down to some where she was lying completely flat on the floor.

With two rags, Misty and Dakota dusted the entire downstairs of the house. But Misty remained absolutely firm about the no walking policy, Dakota remaining on her hands and knees. It was some time during that afternoon chore that Dakota’s gut started acting up. But, having already cooked her own goose again with bad behavior at lunch, she said nothing about the guttural pain to Misty or Morgan. More or less, she assumed that the gut pain must have come from the mushy lunch she was forced to eat - one sloppy heaping spoonful after another.

Now lying on her back in her crib, strapped down as usual, Dakota was beginning to worry about the pain. It still hadn’t gone away and it would have spans of time when it was so bad that she wanted to double-over - other spans of time when it was very mild and tolerable. But regardless of severity, the pain was always there. It was constant.

This wasn’t good. She was certain of it. But she wasn’t going to say anything about it. She had been given the final warning already and there was no way she was going to get her little tooshy in any more trouble - receiving a pot stick spanking or worse, a leather belt spanking. Besides, she was female. Little pains in her body were life.

Grunting behind her pacifier as she attempted to stretch under the strap at her waist, Dakota returned to the crib mattress - looking back up at the ceiling and sighing. It was not only impossible to bend her back enough to relieve the cramp, but on top of that - or rather, underneath that - was a soaked, diapered bottom.

She had been changed after lunch, but an entire afternoon of sippy cup drink breaks as well as a nap time bottle when she was laid down in her crib at 3pm had filled her bladder full. And some time in the past hour and a half of slumber, her bladder emptied itself back out. It was becoming easier and easier for her to wet herself when in a diaper - almost to the point where the presence of a diaper around her center automatically signaled her bladder to release.

Hearing her grunting and sighing, Morgan got up from the desk in his study at the end of the upstairs hall - walking down to the nursery.

“Hello, Princess,” Morgan said with that knee-wobbling deep timbre of his as he entered the nursery and over to her at crib side.

Dakota looked up at him, smiling softly behind her pacifier. If she hadn’t been tied down, she likely would have hidden under a blanket for shyness. It was fair to say that she had a crush on him and it was also fair to say that Misty was aware of this crush. Throughout the afternoon, Misty would egg on the diaper girl’s crush, getting her to blush every time Morgan walked by or came within close proximity.

“Did you sleep well?” he asked, lowering the side railing of the crib and unfastening the strap around her waist - Dakota immediately arching her lower back again and trying to work the cramp out.

And when she did, she inadvertently presented her diapered center to him - Morgan placing his hand on her slightly-raised diapered bottom and feeling the warmth of her wet condition. Blushing tremendously as she lowered herself back down onto the crib mattress, Dakota looked over to the opened nursery room door as Morgan unfastened her ankles from the crib straps and reattached the ankle cuffs to her.

It was her hope that Misty would soon walk in to greet her wake-up as well. If that wasn’t the case, then that meant Dakota was about to blush an even deeper shade of embarrassment … if Morgan was going to be the one to change her diaper.

Oh, my.

And without another second to get herself worked up any more, Dakota’s wrists were freed from the crib straps as she was then scooped up into his arms. Oh, wow. There was a little something to be said for not looking her best when in the presence of a man she was infatuated with. But given the current circumstances, she wouldn’t have been able to give her appearance that obsessed feminine touch - even if her hands hadn’t been covered with those mitts and shackled with wrist cuffs.

Wait a minute! When Morgan untied her hands from the crib straps, he hadn’t reattached the cuffs to her wrists. Maybe he had just forgotten. Or maybe he had set them over by the changing table since it looked like that was where he was carrying her to. Or maybe this was another test. Yeah, that could be it. Maybe he was seeing if she would try to capitalize on the mistake.

Hmm.

Dakota scrunched up her lips behind her pacifier, trying to figure out which scenario was more likely the truth than all the others. Maybe he had just forgotten. And, having caused enough trouble for the day, Dakota wasn’t going to allow this mistake to go uncorrected.

So, when Morgan eased her down onto the changing table, she parted her thighs, bent her knees and drew her legs up into the diaper changing position - a routine she had become accustomed to in a short amount of time. But then she held her mitt-covered hands up to him, expecting him to see that her wrist cuffs were missing or perhaps even to go and get the cuffs and put them on her before changing her diaper.

But Morgan did no such thing, instead taking hold of her wrists where the cuffs should have been attached and easing her forearms back. He placed her hands on either side of her head, touching the fingertips of his left hand to her forehead and gently drawing them down her face. And the smile he wore was wonderfully handsome.

She also smelled that male scent on his palm, a mixture of after shave or a bit of cologne along with the typical scents that accompanied a man’s body. Oh, yes. Dakota was a typical girl. She was a creature of touch and of being touched. But she was also a creature of scent, enjoying the pleasant aromas that filled different moments of her day.

“Misty and I discussed a few things as you slept and we feel you’ve learned a lesson today,” Morgan said, reaching under the changing table and gathering a few things he would need to change her.

Oh, Dakota began to squirm on the inside when she saw that new diaper in his hands. He was a charmer indeed. A lot of guys wouldn’t take any time at all in putting themselves together, not even spending five seconds in front of a mirror to straighten their hair. Morgan wasn’t much for vanity, either. But he at least made himself presentable. And Dakota definitely took notice to him.

“We’ve decided that you have earned the loss of your wrist cuffs, but the mitts are going to remain … for now,” Morgan said, unfastening the tapes at the girl’s hips - Dakota covering her face with her mitted hands as he lowered the drenched front of her diaper. “Aww. Now I see what Misty has been saying about you. You really are the most adorable little soul in this world. And that’s all the more reason to help you make the discoveries you need and to get you back where you belong.”

Placing his right forearm on her hamstrings and rocking her lower half up into the air slightly, he slid the wet diaper out of the way - then picking up the new one and unfolding it. Dakota tingle when she heard that crinkly noise and with the high degree of embarrassment dawning on humiliation that was rippling throughout her, she not only submitted to being naked in front of him but also from being exposed in a most mortifying position.

“You’ve been having tummy trouble today, haven’t you?” Morgan asked, taking a wipe to her bottom - Dakota growing wide-eyed and nodding her head yes. “Maybe we’ll make dinner something that can help with that.”

He picked up the container of baby powder and coated her backside with a liberal amount. It seemed a bit wasteful for them to use so much powder on her each time. But then again, there was no trace of a rash on her skin - even though she had slept in wetness more than once.

And his hands. Oh, his strong hands, doing their best to be gentle with her and doing a wonderful job - though absent of the caressing instinct Misty most naturally possessed. But to Dakota, his care of her meant just as much as the care she received from Misty. He didn’t have the grace Misty had, but he had the intent. And that was all that mattered to Dakota - that he cared enough to try.

Lowering her bottom into the softness of a new diaper, Morgan parted her thighs and took a wipe to her front - then down between her legs. Oh, he was something else. And though it would’ve been a strange bit of courtship between them, if Morgan were unattached, Dakota would’ve definitely pursued him.

There was something specific about him, something … out of the ordinary that made her feel good on the inside. It felt right, although it was anything but conventional. She couldn’t put it to words, but she knew the feeling he gave her. It was something she desperately needed in her life and something she needed to be able to put her finger on.

“You’re gonna be just fine, BabyGirl,” Morgan said, coating her front with powder and then down between her legs. “And there will be nothing out of your reach. I promise you that.”

Dakota smiled softly behind her pacifier. How sweet of him to say that. She certainly had a long way to go before she believed that about herself, but it meant everything to her that he would speak with such kind words of endearing encouragement to her.

“But you need to grow … on the inside,” Morgan said, folding up the front of her diaper and fastening the tapes snuggly at her hips - Dakota melting into that changing table from the return of that soft, enveloping feel of a new diaper around her waist. “There is only one thing in this world that we need. Everything else is a bunch of stuff we have liked and therefore kept. But there’s only one thing we truly need. And that one thing will be different for each of us.”

Morgan scooped her up into his arms, seeing the look of confusion and of utmost concentration in her eyes as he carried her out of the nursery and into the hallway.

“Princess, don’t spend all your time trying to come up with the answer,” Morgan said, kissing her on the forehead as he carried her down the stairs. “When you think of it, it will come to you with no effort at all. The one and only thing in this world you truly need is also the one thing in this world that you want more than anything else. And when you discover what that is, you’ll go out and find it.”

Wrapping her arms around his neck, she became quiet, nursing on her pacifier steadily but slowly. She suddenly had a lot to think about, but being that close to Morgan and smelling that scent of him distracted her. The highest concentration of pheromone emission on the male body came from the sternum area and being carried in his arms, Dakota’s sniffer was right there - at his hot spot. Oh, my. She didn’t need encouragement to become attached to someone. She didn’t need encouragement to fall for someone and she didn’t need encouragement to believe in the foolish dreams girls entered into every night.

But being made to daydream about those same foolish visions of slumber? Hmm. Well, Dakota didn’t need encouragement about that, either. However, Morgan’s simple statement of truth planted a seed in her mind that would first unravel her and then bind her back up and finally, leave the choice of self-empowerment or self-destruction to her.

The real value of Dakota’s emotional therapy was to prepare her for that moment when the decision to live or die, to fight or flight, to rise or to fall - would be in her hands … mitt-covered or not.

Dakota sat on that same floor mat by the back door of the kitchen where she was made to kneel for punishment from her lunchtime antics. But this time, she wasn’t being punished. Instead, she was deep in thought about a question of herself she had no answer for. Dakota had no idea what the one thing was she needed in her life. And the reason was because she had no idea what she wanted more than anything else.

Sitting there while dinner was being made for her, Dakota wasn’t going to figure anything out, but at least she had begun thinking about it as opposed to thinking of ways to completely change who she was - in order to win the attention of people who really didn’t care about her at all. It was always a depressing reality to enter into when something meaningful ended abruptly, but those were the moments when something new and potentially even more meaningful were waiting to begin … when she was ready to believe it.

Looking out into the back yard and to the edge of back forest, she stared at the entrance to that stone path Morgan told her about. She wondered if she would ever be taken down that path to see where it led.

“Whatcha lookin’ at, baby?” Misty said, kneeling down behind her and wrapping her arms around the girl.

Dakota pointed over to the stone path, nursing on the silicone nipple of her pacifier as she remained deep in thought.

“Ahh. I see,” Misty said, brushing the bangs out of Dakota’s eyes. “Did Daddy have the talk with you?”

Dakota nodded yes, Misty untying the straps that held the pacifier in place and removing the leather lengths from the sides of the pacifier guard. Then Misty wrapped her arms around the BabyGirl a bit tighter. Smiling brightly, Dakota reached up to her lips and freely took the pacifier out of her mouth.

“Mommy?” Dakota said softly.

“Yes, BabyGirl?” Misty asked back.

“Thank you,” Dakota replied, so softly in tone she was almost inaudible.

“You’re welcome, baby,” Misty said, getting emotional. “But remember to thank yourself, too. Okay?”

“Okay,” Dakota whispered cheerfully before putting the pacifier back in her mouth - for the first time of her own accord.

As Dakota continued to daydream and self-analyze, Misty and Morgan discussed the fact that she still hadn’t had a bowel movement. They figured this to be the catalyst behind the girl’s stomach pain. And what had begun as an obsessed-sounding question of whether the baby was poopy or not had suddenly become a major concern. For a female, chemical balance was even more necessary to maintain than a male. And before Dakota started turning toxic on the inside, Misty and Morgan took one last attempt to allow her digestive system to work itself out - making the girl a dinner of kidney bean chili, whole grain bread, broccoli and baked potatoes in the hopes that it would loosen the pipes and let flow what needed to.

If the dinner menu didn’t do the trick, the only remaining option would be another bit of forced treatment - and this one Dakota certainly wouldn’t enjoy one little bit. This was the main reason why Misty and Morgan said nothing to her about it.

They sat at the table, Dakota happily climbing up into the high chair. Her legs still adorned ankle cuffs, a length of rope keeping them close to connected. And her feet still had those booties on them. Dakota hadn’t yet earned back the right to walk. But her wrist cuffs were gone and, now for dinner, her hand mitts were taken off. The straps of her pacifier were gone. She was diapered but naked otherwise. It seemed she had crossed the threshold between the application of restrictions and the removal of them. More restriction would be taken off her, but all things would happen one at a time.

Her attitude was improving and it seemed she had found a way to connect one happy moment to the next one, instead of just being happy for a short time before entering back into defiance and the like.

Dakota wore a bib and even welcomed the three heaping spoonfuls of Castor oil that preceded dinner. Then it was on to the meal. She set her pacifier down on the plastic tray in front of her. Oh, did her mouth instantly salivate at the sight of that mounded bowl of chili on the table. She could already taste it, the sauce those beans and meat were drenched in making her close her lips and swallow to prevent drooling - not that drooling would have been frowned upon, just then. But her senses were intact and she couldn’t have been happier. This was real food in front of her, real food! Not formula or pasty mushy nastiness in a bottle. But chunks of glorious real food!

Rubbing her hands together and scooting her diapered bottom forward on the high chair seat as much as she could until the bib on her front contacted the back edge of the plastic tray, Dakota practically bounced with excitement. The entire chair was scooted as close to the end of the kitchen table as possible and this was the only reason she didn’t kick her feet wildly … because she couldn’t. It was sort of like being restrained at the legs without actually having restraints on her legs. Regardless, Dakota’s first real meal in two days was being scooped out of the chili bowl.

But wait. Where was her plate? And her silverware? She really didn’t mind the idea of eating off of a plastic cartoon movie themed plate or using rubber-coated silverware that had pictures of fairy tale princesses on them. All of that actually seemed kind of fun to her, but the problem was: there wasn’t a plate for her or any silverware of any kind. Before she could scratch her head about this at all, Misty plopped a small heap of chili right down onto the plastic tray in front of the girl.

Dakota paused for a moment, tilting her head to the side and getting a look of confusion on her face. But when her stomach grumbled, a mixture of that ever-present gut pain as well as genuine hunger, she chose to move beyond the fact that she would be eating with her fingers. And without another moment wasted, she grabbed a handful of the chili with her right hand and began to eat it out of her fingertips.

Oh, thank Heavens Misty had put a bib on her. The chili juice rolled out of her palm and began to dribble down the inside of her right forearm. But the diaper girl didn’t stop eating to clean herself. It was real food and besides, appearances had been re-ordered for her anyway. If she was their BabyGirl, then she was more than welcomed to make a mess of herself.

For the first few minutes, she devoured the food - not being able to eat it fast enough and being told several times to slow down and chew her food before she got enough of the chili in her stomach to settle the hunger pains, at least. But by then, not only had her right hand and forearm become a chili-stained mess. Her face had also become messy with the sauce, from cheek bone to cheek bone and down to her chin.

Misty smiled sweetly, that maternal twinkle in her eyes giving a warm glow about her. Morgan grinned at the adorable sight of Dakota, making a bigger and bigger mess of herself. After chowing down through two helpings of the chili, Dakota leaned back and burped - then covering her mouth with her left hand and laughing at her silliness. With the addition of a buttered piece of whole wheat bread, Dakota became a greasy little girl along with being a saucy one.

By the time she finished stuffing herself, Dakota was blissfully contented. And following the simple directions of Misty and Morgan had yielded new rewards she wouldn’t have known about otherwise. But there was still dessert to go, a little mound of raspberries and blackberries to munch on as Misty tended to the diaper girl’s messy condition.

But Misty wasn’t so contented in getting the girl squeaky clean, just clean enough to be carried upstairs for her evening bath. And my, oh my, did Dakota eat up the attention she got in that tub.

Stripped of her diaper, her ankle cuffs and foot booties, the BabyGirl was dipped and set into the biggest mound of bubbles she had ever seen. And when sitting properly in the warm water, her high pigtails were taken out to allow her locks to fall freely. Then the bathing began. And Dakota was happy to see that Misty would be scrubbing her clean with that wash cloth, not Morgan. Misty had the gentlest touch and knew well the parts of Dakota’s body that needed extra gentle care when bathing. Morgan would’ve done his best, but facts were facts. Morgan was male and gentleness was not a primary directive in his mind.

Instead, he made good on a promise, so to speak.

“So this girl whom I contacted online after reading her breath of fresh air profile,” Morgan stated, sitting on the edge of the tub as he continued the story he had started last evening. “She wrote a very simple reply to me. And then I wrote one back to her. And I began to look forward to our casual correspondences each day, checking my messages with a wishful hope I hadn’t known in quite a few years.”

Misty paused from the job of bathing Dakota as she and the girl looked at Morgan.

“You see, Dakota, there’s a little something that you and I have in common too,” Morgan said, Misty growing teary-eyed as she knew the admission he was about to make and Dakota tilting her head to the side with curiosity for what he was going to say next. “It doesn’t matter who hurt us … or perhaps who we allowed to hurt us in the past. All that matters is who made us smile again … and most importantly, who we allow to make us smile again.”

Misty smiled sweetly through her watery gaze at him. Dakota looked at Misty’s reaction and though she didn’t really understand the specifics of the reason why Misty both smiled and cried at the same moment, Dakota understood the nature of such a display of dual-emotions.

“And besides, she had an obsessed love for archery. So did I. How strange is that, huh? Meeting someone whom you share the most unusual of interests with,” Morgan said, pausing to reflect on the first date he had with this girl he was speaking about. “I remember our first date was to an archery course. I won, but only by one arrow’s shot … in the end, however, it was a shot from her bow into my heart that had the most accuracy of all. And Cupid has never gotten over being so jealous of her since then.”

Misty moved on to the washing, rinsing, washing, rinsing and conditioning of Dakota’s hair. Thankfully, the BabyGirl didn’t have hair so long as to reach down much further than her shoulder blades.

Her bath ended and Dakota was wrapped in a towel and carried into her nursery. Misty laid her on the changing table and first put a clean pair of booties of the girl’s feet. This hardly seemed like the first body parts to cover for a girl who was completely naked. Still, Dakota didn’t fuss at all, not for memory of obligation, but rather, for love of attention - attention so white-hot in intensity that she may as well have been nothing more than a baby every again.

Her new diaper soon appeared and Dakota felt her bottom being powdered as Misty slid the new diaper underneath her - then lowering the girl’s legs back down to the top of the changing table and her bottom into the softness of the new diaper. She tended to Dakota’s front in the same manner. Then she reached under the changing table again to pick something else up.

“Baby?” Misty said sweetly, getting the girl’s attention. “I have something that’s going to help you with those stomach pains you’ve been having.”

Dakota smiled brightly. Thank goodness!

“Here’s your pacifier,” Misty said, positioning her left hand at the girl’s bottom as she touched the silicone nipple of the pacifier to the girl’s lower lip - Dakota taking the pacifier in her mouth right away. “Now, this is going to feel just a little uncomfortable for a short while, but it will help.”

Dakota wrinkled her forehead, not sure what Misty was trying to tell her. But when she felt the glycerin suppository entering into her rosebud, she knew very good and well what Misty was trying to break to her. And thankfully again, Misty knew what gentle was supposed to feel like. But, gentle or not, it was a jarring feeling. And Dakota fussed something horribly - Misty folding up the front of the girl’s diaper and fastening the tapes snuggly at her hips. There would be no punishment for this tantrum. Dakota hadn’t done anything wrong.

Then Morgan entered the nursery with swiftness, holding the cutest little nightie Dakota had ever seen. Despite the continuing bit of discomfort at her back door, the BabyGirl was distracted enough by the nightie to be able to let the tantrum pass. And what an exhilarated boost she just received! Not only were her ankle cuffs now gone, but she was actually allowed to wear clothing!

This just kept getting better and better. And the more good behavior she showed, the more rewards she kept receiving. No, she still wasn’t allowed to walk yet, but hey, being carried around by the charming Morgan Daddy was a fine alternative.

---------------

That whole evening was really calm. The three of them sat on the sofa and watched some Johnny Depp movie she had never seen before. The whole time, she was held in someone’s arms. At one point, a popcorn shooting contest began - Morgan sitting on the one end of the couch and opening his mouth while Misty and Dakota sat on the other end of the couch - each of them taking turns in trying to throw a piece of popcorn into his mouth. Needless to say, Morgan didn’t eat much popcorn.

Dakota received her bed time bottle while lying in Morgan’s arms on the living room sofa. At about 9:30pm, she was carried up to bed, her booties take off as she was laid on her belly. The wrist straps and ankle straps and waist strap were attached to her and she was tied down to the crib mattress. This wasn’t done as a way of controlling her. And if things had been going otherwise, Dakota likely would have had those restriction lifted as well. But the girl still hadn’t relieved her bowels and Misty was certain that, before dawn, the girl was going to have a most unpleasant episode.

Dakota’s emotional therapy was about to reach a fevered pitch, but as the diaper girl drifted off to sleep, she had no idea it was just a few short hours away from happening.





Chapter Ten


Wednesday, 3am

Dakota awoke in her crib, instantly beginning to scream in agony. She spit the pacifier out of her mouth and began to scream even louder. Those annoying little stomach pains had formed into a knot that was anything but little. And, being strapped down, she had no ability to move at all. The pain was so bad that she wanted to double over to scrunch up and hopefully lessen the ache. The suppository hadn’t helped at all and the BabyGirl was hurting tremendously.

In a flash, Misty and Morgan appeared in the nursery, Misty turning on the overhead light and going directly to the shelves underneath the changing table. Morgan went right to the crib and lowered the side railing, unfastening the strap from around Dakota’s waist. The BabyGirl stuck her diapered bottom straight up in the air, doing her best to get the front of her thighs to connect with her belly and chest. She could do nothing but cry in pain, incapable even of speaking with enough clarity to be understood.

“I knew she was getting close, Morgan,” Misty said, retrieving the single-use enema from the shelves under the changing table and readying it before rushing over to the weeping Dakota at crib side. “Baby, listen to Mommy. Everything’s gonna be okay in just a minute.”

Morgan grabbed hold of the girl’s diaper at the waist line by her lower lumbar, pulling the back of her diaper down and tucking it just underneath the girl’s bottom cheeks. Then, he took hold of both of the girl’s bottom cheeks, pulling them apart slightly and exposing the girl’s puckered rosebud.

Dakota was flipping out but wasn’t able to get her hands or her feet free. Yes, she was able to lower the center of her body, but if she had done that, she would have reintroduced herself to the full force of the guttural pain that had awakened her, so abruptly and sharply.

“Show Mommy what a good girl you are,” Misty said, placing her right hand on Dakota’s lower back as she placed the tip of the enema spout at Dakota’s rosebud and gently began to insert it.

“Don’t fight it going in, Dakota. Don’t tense up at all,” Morgan said calmly, but even his deep timbre didn’t have the full effect of calming the BabyGirl down that it normally did - understandable, given the current circumstances. “If anything, just gently push back on it.”

Dakota did what Morgan suggested, gently pushing back on the intruding spout and suddenly the spout slid inside her bottom. Then Misty began to squeeze the bottle, the ice cold enema fluid entering into Dakota’s bowels. Oh, my. What an awkward feeling, kind of like when she had the runs and she just didn’t felt right back there.

As the fluid warmed itself to her body temperature, she felt her bowels beginning to fill to a capacity that made her fully bloated. It was one of those sensations similar to a situation when she was standing in line to use the ladies bathroom at a night club.

The line at those night club bathrooms seemed endless and also like it wasn’t moving forward at all. And every girl in that line would stand perfectly still, trying to distract herself away from any thoughts that would turn her need to pee into a desperate need of such. The greatest fear was not getting to a toilet on time. It was always that mortifying fright that encouraged them to not eat or drink much of anything when at that night club.

And when the enema bottle squeezed empty, Misty having filled the girl’s cavity with the fluid, she gently pulled the nozzle out of the girl’s rosebud - then pinching the rosebud for the brief second needed for Morgan to pull the BabyGirl’s diaper back up and into place.

“Lay down flat, baby,” Misty said, taking her hand out of the back of the girl’s diaper and placing a hand on the girl’s tailbone as she gently pushed her body flat. “Now, just relax your muscles and let it happen.”

Dakota stopped crying instantly - not for some sudden relief she had just experienced, but rather, for the inability to release the unyielding clench of her sphincter muscles. Peeing in the diaper was one thing, but this required a whole new bit of processing, just to moderately accept the mere possibility of doing it. There was no way she could mess herself, not like this. In a high chair, yes. Her arms and face and neck were another story, but this? No way. No how. No sir. Absolutely not. Not now. Not ever.

The only problem was: Dakota, for once didn’t have much of a choice in the matter. When behaving poorly, she was making the choice to behave as such. Here and now, she was being forced to accept something that would take her beyond embarrassment and humiliation and mortification and all the overwhelming emotions that would ensue. It was impossible for her to willingly release her bowels.

So poor Dakota simply lay there, whimpering softly and helplessly awaiting the inevitable moment when her body’s ability to hold in the urge gave way.

“Just let it happen, angel doll. You have to trust Mommy. Be a good girl for me and let it out,” Misty said, watching Dakota’s entire frame tremble from the battle she was slowly losing. “Show me what a good little baby you are and Mommy will take care of everything after you’re done. You’ll feel so much better then. Your tummy won’t hurt and you’ll be able to go back to sleep.”

Dakota whimpered a little more loudly, Misty putting the pacifier back in the poor girl’s mouth. Oh, no. This was actually going to happen. Dakota could already feel the pressure focusing in on her rosebud. It wouldn’t be long now. Oh, this was going to be horrible. It was probably going to feel as horrible as it would sound.

“No Daddy,” Dakota struggled to mumble behind her pacifier. “Please, no Daddy.”

“What?” Misty asked, looking up at Morgan. “What did she mean by that?”

“I’ll be outside the room,” Morgan said, Misty then quickly understanding what Dakota was begging for.

And no sooner did Morgan walk out of the room than Dakota relieved herself, collapsing limply on the mattress as the back of her diaper puffed out with the inevitability she couldn’t avoid. And oh my, did that little BabyGirl cry without reserve.

Misty unfastened and removed the straps from Dakota’s wrists and ankles - then removing those straps along with the waist strap from the crib mattress altogether. Dakota lay there, her face buried in a pillow - all self-esteem having been lost in an instant.

She remained on her belly, not moving at all for extreme desire to prevent the mess from spreading even the tiniest little bit. Misty moved swiftly, getting a new diaper and a few other necessary things from under the changing table. Returning to Dakota at crib side, Misty unfolded the new diaper and laid it on the back of the one Dakota was wearing. She matched up the back waist lines and then ever-so-gently turned the BabyGirl over.

The process was swift but not hasty, Misty abandoning all sweet talk and distraction - in order to get the diaper change and the whole experience over with. And with any luck, the problem had been solved. Misty wiped the girl clean, giving her a covering of powder even more liberal than normal.

When the diaper change was done, Misty rolled up the used diaper and tossed it across the room to Morgan. Then he walked out of the room. Misty climbed into the crib with Dakota, lying down next to her and deciding to spend the rest of the night with her. Dakota flipped over onto her belly, using the right side of Misty’s body as a pillow.

“Shh. Shh. Shhh,” Misty shushed her, patting the girl’s freshly powdered and diapered bottom. “It’s over, baby. It’s done. And Mommy has never been more proud of her BabyGirl than right now.”

Dakota nursed on her pacifier, resting the side of her head on Misty’s right shoulder and taking hold of the front of Misty’s nightshirt with a tiny fist. Oh, how crushed she felt. Oh, how helpless she felt. And oh, how little she felt indeed.

“Now is when your therapy will have its greatest effect on you, baby,” Misty whispered softly, running her fingers through the BabyGirl’s hair. “When you wake up, you’re going to look at everything differently. And I want you to know that Daddy and Mommy will always be here to take care of, to love you and to never let you fall.”

Dakota’s eyelids grew heavy, the atmosphere calming down and soothing her back to sleep.

“It’s not what you are made to do … because someone said so. It’s what you make yourself do … because you have to and at last, because you can,” Misty whispered. “That is what you are learning.”

---------------

Wednesday, day three of her emotional therapy, had started just about as horribly as it could have. But that morning, Dakota awoke in Misty’s arms. She was very thankful to have opened her eyes and seen Misty. Perhaps if she hadn’t spent the rest of the night with her, Dakota might well have imploded.

From the moment she got out of the crib and was led downstairs, there was a noticeable difference about her - in the way she carried herself, in how she moved, in the uncertainty of her movements and in her sudden inability to make any decision. The standoffish Dakota had gone into a meltdown and was saved with a bit of mental regression that her instincts had forced her into.

That morning, she happily nursed on a bottle of formula, suddenly incapable of maintaining any attention span at all - Misty having to entertain her while she nursed, just to keep the girl focused enough to finish the bottle. Dakota sat on the sofa that morning, having been given the rule to not get off the sofa for any reason. She would mindless chew on her snack of cereal as she watched cartoons. There was no point in doing yoga with her that morning as there was no way she could focus to do it.

Morgan and Misty were very cautious when speaking with her, never raising their voices and only regarding her as being a baby. While this only regressed her further, it seemed like the only safe way to approach her meltdown with the caution needed to keep her from going into a fuller meltdown.

When she eventually did get off the couch, she willingly crawled, never standing to her feet and never thinking otherwise. She had no concentrated thoughts. She wet herself and soiled herself without hesitation. She was overjoyed to climb up into her high chair and receive her bib before she made a mess of herself. There was no further punishment handed out for her disobedience as she truly couldn’t understand when she did something wrong. And the only thing that seemed to get and keep her attention was Morgan’s voice when she was suffering from shiny object syndrome. She was spoon-fed breakfast and lunch, then eating dinner with her fingers. Her mind would suddenly wander off into a daze, as if something had disconnected inside her and was incapable of reconnecting.

This estranged behavior would go on for a day or two before her mind stopped trying to escape the present. But in that brief 48 hour period, Dakota healed mentally. First, she would shut down from the present altogether and go through a series of mental states that she had been denied when young. And then, she would return to the present - in a much better state of mind.

No, Dakota would still deal with the issues of her past from some time to come, but she the recovery was how she no longer felt so little about herself. The discovery she made was how to deal with life’s set-backs while maintaining self-esteem. And by that first weekend, Dakota had received the full effect that emotional therapy was designed to give someone.

---------------

Saturday - Three days later

Dakota stepped out of the shower on a chilly but warming Saturday morning. It had only gone 9:30 am. So the heat of the day hadn’t set it yet, for all the more heat an autumn day could have. She had just finished the morning yoga routine with Misty and was quite happy to be allowed to take a shower again. It was some time last evening that she found the return of all her faculties, but the mindset of the past few days was still fresh in her memories. It wasn’t so much that she regressed without further need for assistance from Misty and Morgan that had spooked her about it all. The treatment she had received prior to her imploding meltdown was more than enough to encourage her to regress inside herself. But the lingering thought that still had her scratching her head was how deeply she was able to regress and how the world was viewed by her when she had recessed into the safety of her own mind.

She still heard what people said and still knew where she was, but it was like she was in some sort of dream world at the same time. Her senses were numbed throughout it. Things she touched and things that touched her felt as though they couldn’t reach her nerve-endings - even the ones in her fingertips. Things she heard were slightly muffled and seemed further away than they actually were. She could only smell particularly strong scents - like food being cooked or the powder being put on her. Her eyes gave her fairly clearly vision but everything she focused in on was slightly blurred and often doubled. About the only sense that was firing on all pistons was her ability to tasted things.

And when in that helpless state of mind, Dakota felt no fear at all - all of her worries being left for Misty and Morgan to address and deal with. She almost wished she could live every moment of her life with quite a few of the perceptions she kept when in an entranced state of regression.

But with a headspace that was cleared up this morning, she returned to being her usual self - except a little different in all the right ways. Though she couldn’t explain it, there was some little bit of recovery she had subconsciously undergone. Now basking in the knowledge acquired, Dakota turned all her focusing back to the therapy. If it was, in fact, effective and working - then she wanted to plow forward with it. In just six days of emotional therapy, Dakota had made discoveries of herself she otherwise would not have been able to do. And that gave her a sense of pride, pride in herself and in all she was capable of doing … if she just believed.

Drying herself off with a towel, she calmly walked out of the upstairs bathroom and down the hallway to her nursery - as naked as the day she was born. And this didn’t bother her in the least. Dakota had learned to classify everything in her life into two simple categories: things that mattered and things that didn’t matter at all. And from that mentality, she was now able to make advancing thoughts, all by herself and free from self-destruction.

This particular day wouldn’t be so calm or relaxing, though. But at the same time, it wouldn’t be stressful either and she wouldn’t find herself nearing more punishment for bad behavior. When her head cleared up last night, she finally understood that the word obedience wasn’t dirty at all. The intensity of this day would be realized shortly … when Morgan fulfilled yet another promise he made her - one she had earn in order to receive.

There was a tiny pathway at the edge of the forest behind the house. The pathway was lined with white stones and trailed back into the woods.

“Come on, baby. You don’t wanna keep Daddy waiting,” Misty said, standing next to the changing table and encouraging the BabyGirl to hop up onto it.

Dakota took a seat on the changing table, taking the pacifier in her mouth when Misty offered it and swinging her legs up onto the table - into a lay. Misty went right to work, the seasoned professional she had become. Dakota knew her role and got into the diapering position without being instructed or asked to do so.

Yes, indeed. She had made major headway in dealing with her esteem issues as well as a collection of other bad memories she was learning how to forget about. Receiving praise from Misty and Morgan along the way had meant everything to her and the whole BabyGirl thing had fast become second-nature.

In no time at all, Dakota was powdered, diapered and dressed in one of Morgan’s white button-down dress shirts. Hopping down off the changing table and taking hold of Misty’s hand, Dakota crinkled alongside her Mommy as they made their way downstairs and to the kitchen where Morgan was waiting for her.

“Here she is, Daddy,” Misty said, presenting Dakota - the diaper girl twirling in a circle on her bare feet and holding her arms out.

“I think you will be the sweetest living creature in the woods,” Morgan said, opening the back door of the kitchen and stepping out onto the back lawn. “Dakota, you have clearly learned who you are not and it was a difficult lesson to learn. Now, it’s time to learn how you actually are.”

Morgan extended his hand to the BabyGirl, Dakota taking hold of his hand and stepping out onto the grass. Oh my goodness. She was actually outside of the house. It seemed a little strange for as normal as it was, like cabin fever was what finally broke last evening and brought her back to the reality of things.

“Do you remember what Daddy said you would find at the end of that little trail in the woods, baby?” Misty asked, stepping out on the grass as well and rolling the girl’s sleeves up to the middle of her forearms.

Dakota thought about it for a moment and then took the pacifier out of her mouth to speak.

“Daddy said: where that trail leads to is the one place in this world where I belong,” Dakota said, proudly remembering his exact wording and then plunking the pacifier back in her mouth.

“That’s right and until you know where you belong, you won’t be walking on the stones,” Misty said, motioning the girl to walk over behind him. “Daddy is gonna carry you there.”

Dakota looked at Morgan’s semi-squatted position with confusion. What was he doing and what was Misty talking about?

“Piggy-back, baby. Climb up,” Misty said, reaching behind the girl and patting her diapered bottom.

“Ohhh-wuh!” Dakota mumbled behind her pacifier, suddenly understand as she climbed up onto his back and away they went.

“Make sure to bring my BabyGirl back to me!” Misty called to them with a laugh. “And make sure my husband comes back, too!”

I remember when Misty and I bought this property,” Morgan said beginning to walk down the white stone pathway - Dakota surprised for how quickly the forest became thick around them. “I saw this pathway and followed to back about right where we are now - just a few feet into the woods. Then everything became covered over with brush. So I got a machete and cleared the pathway until I reached what you should soon be able to see ahead of us.”

Dakota looked down the pathway, not seeing anything yet.

“And what I found made my jaw drop,” Morgan admitted, continuing to travel down the pathway - the forest now seeming to surround them. “I immediately went back to the house and got misty, bringing her down this trail. And when she saw was at the end of this trail, her jaw dropped, too.”

Dakota took the pacifier out of her mouth to speak.

“And Misty also found where she belonged?” Dakota asked before plunking the pacifier back in her mouth.

“Exactly,” Morgan said. “And I know you are about to do the same.”

The pathway came to an end at a small stream. Morgan walked alongside the stream, its size steadily diminishing until it came to an end at a small pool, no bigger than a sink basin. The pool had a sizeable rock on its one side that appeared to absorb the shallow water … or so it seemed. On all other sides, the pool of water was surrounded by rich green grass and set in a small area where sunlight actually reached down to the ground of the forest. Morgan set Dakota down on her feet and the diaper girl knelt alongside the pool, staring at the surface of its waters.

“Do you see where you belong?” Morgan asked, Dakota looking around but not finding the answer.

Then she looked at the surface of the water again, seeing her reflection in it.

“I belong in myself?” Dakota mumbled in question behind her pacifier, dumbfounded as to what the correct answer could be.

“Try again,” Morgan again, Dakota looking at the surface of the water again - seeing his reflection and that of the canvas of forest leaves above.

“I belong in you? I belong in the trees, the forest?” Dakota mumbled in question again, getting no closer to the answer than before.

“Think outside the box, but stay within the water,” Morgan said.

And that was when Dakota noticed the shape the little pool had naturally formed into. She raised her eyebrows, marveling over how that little pool of water was shaped like a heart. She saw her reflection again inside the water and that was when the answer came to her.

“I belong … in love,” Dakota said with confidence, Morgan smiling and nodding.

“People who deserve to be in love, people who belong in love will do anything to get it, like perhaps a few one-night stands?” Morgan asked, Dakota growing wide-eyed at the realization that just came to her. “And when they don’t find the love they are looking for, they break down inside - slowly and meticulously. And before they know it, they have damned themselves. This leads to a lack of self-worth and thusly, with esteem absent, people’s lives begin to fall apart. Sound familiar?”

“Yes,” Dakota mumbled behind her pacifier before taking it out of her mouth.

“When you feel that way, you simply need to go back to the beginning and remember all the things you never should have forgotten,” Morgan said, kneeling down beside the little pool of water. “Because at the beginning you know what you want. Along the way, you doubt yourself. And by the end, you give up. Do you understand what I’m getting at?”

“Yes. At the beginning, you see the bigger picture and you know where you belong. That’s what you want. That’s why you look for it. It’s all you think about and because you want it … more than anything else, it’s also what you need. But when things go sour, you need not every forget what it was that you wanted,” Dakota said with a smile before plunking her pacifier back in her mouth - where it belonged.

“Good girl,” Morgan said with a smile. “Good girl.”

---------------

Saturday - a week later

“Well …,” Misty started, then pausing as both she and Dakota got emotional. “If I had my way, I’d never let you leave.”

“And if I could stay forever, I would,” Dakota managed to stumble before tears welled in her eyes, the two girls embracing.”

The past week had seen Dakota grow, from a girl with questions into a girl with answers. And though she probably could have been released on Wednesday, Misty insisted that she remain with them until the weekend … just to make certain the girl’s emotion therapy was complete.

But it was getting fairly obvious now. Dakota was ready. Standing next to her car, Dakota hugged Misty for a good ten minutes while saying goodbye … then finally Morgan got a chance to hug her.

“Where do you belong, Dakota?” Morgan asked, embracing her.

Dakota smiled as much as she could through tears.

“…… in love,” the girl finally managed to say.

“That a girl,” Morgan said, opening the driver’s door of Dakota’s car and holding it as the girl got in.

Dakota started her car and put it in reverse, preparing to back out of the driveway when Misty handed a small package to her.

“What’s this?” Dakota asked, taking the package - wrapped in pink paper.

“Something I put together for you,” Misty said, smiling as much as her emotional condition would allow her. “But don’t open it until you go to bed tonight.”

“You’ll always be welcome here, Dakota,” Morgan said with that deep timbre that she loved so much. “As a visitor … not as a client.”

Dakota smiled again, waving goodbye as a new set of tears welled in her eyes. Backing out of the driveway, she drove back into the condo community and headed for home.

---------------

Her arrival back at her sister’s place was just as teary-eyed as her departure from Misty and Morgan’s house. Embracing her sister, Dakota felt a welling of happiness she had never known … at least not one that deeply and that rich.

Her sister, Carolina, could tell the difference in Dakota right away. Essence, Dakota’s college-bound niece, was working at the mall all that day that. So there was another teary-eyed welcome back session when the girl got home at 10 pm that night. But the greatest welcoming of all would happen an hour later …

---------------

11pm that night

Dakota was feeling the drop Misty had mentioned she might feel and as she got ready for bed, she thought back on her 13 days of emotional therapy with Misty and Morgan. For once, 13 wasn’t such a bad number at all. Laying down in bed, she began to hear Morgan’s voice in her head - recalling so many meaning statements he had made:

“You’re gonna be just fine, BabyGirl. And there will be nothing out of your reach. I promise you that.”

“But you need to grow … on the inside.”

“There is only one thing in this world that we need. Everything else is a bunch of stuff we liked and kept. But there’s only one thing we truly need. And that one thing will be different for each of us.”

“Princess, don’t spend all your time trying to come up with the answer. When you think of it, it will come to you with no effort at all. The one and only thing in this world you truly need is also the one thing in this world that you want more than anything else. And when you discover what that is, you’ll go out and find it.”

Sitting straight up in bed, Dakota almost gasped as she suddenly came up with answer. Without hesitating a single second more, she reached over to the night stand next to her bed and grabbed her lap top and turning it on.

Then she remembered the care package Misty had given her. Running over to her hand bag, she got the pink paper wrapped package and brought it back to bedside - tearing it open and smiling brightly at what she found inside it: a few diaper, a pacifier, that sweet-smelling baby powder, those cool-n-soothing baby wipes and that cuterthan cute nightie.

Getting online, she remembered something Misty had said to her:

“It’s not what you are made to do … because someone said so. It’s what you make yourself do … because you have to and at last, because you can. That is what you are to learn.”

The one thing in life Dakota wanted more than anything else … was to have a Daddy. And therefore, a Daddy was the one thing in life she truly needed. No, she wasn’t talking about the real thing. But instead, the kind of Daddy that she would find online … on a site entitled: ageplayonline.com, to be specific.

“Okay,” Dakota said, commencing a most unlikely Daddy search with a simple click of the enter button. “Let’s begin.”

The Beginning …





Zorro Daddy’s ABDL Library


There are three types of stories in this collection:

“The Grats” – Stories which include the themes of spanking, sexuality, BDSM, humiliation and the like.

“The Sagas” – Stories which include the full relationship, with mild or minor sexuality.

“The Yittlins” – Or “Little Ones”. Stories which are designed to produce little, safe feelings only.

----------------------------------------

The Grats –

The Gratification Series - These collections of erotic short stories will bind you, break you, excite you, exhaust you, nurture you, then do it all again. Themes: Fantasies, Punishment, Discipline, Humiliation, Surrender, Submission, Helplessness, Vulnerability, Spankings, Correction, Mind Games, Melt Downs, Pleasure, Guilt, Power Trips, Sexual Extreme, Want and Need.

The Saturday Night Series – When this BabyGirl made her Daddy a list of her fantasies, she had no idea what the night ahead had in store for her. 10 Fantasies fulfilled each night … and counting. Titles: 10 Things To Do With Your BabyGirl On A Saturday Night, 10 More Things To Do …, 10 Things Left To Do …, … On A Sunday Morning, … On A Monday Night

The BedTime Stories Collection - Written for ageplay couples, these stories are perfect for the BedTime tuck-in, whether done in person or over the phone. Which story will Daddy read to you tonight?

Titles: The Dirty Ones, The Clean Ones, The Tangled Fairy Tales

The Sticky Situations Series – The Complete Box Set - Fantasies can become real in an instant. That’s exactly what the BabyGirls in these stories find out. Humiliation, embarrassment, regression and acceptance teach quickly how “sticky” situations can unravel a mind and make a soul vulnerable. Thankfully, their Daddies fill that need.

The ABDL Twisted Books –BabyGirls enter the worlds of other fetishes, coupling them with the ABDL dynamic. Titles: The ABDL MedFet Books 1- 5, The ABDL Horror Book, The ABDL Pet Play Book, The ABDL Nympho Books 1-3, The Voice, Twisted

The Mommy Grats - In these books of the Mommy/BabyBoy or Mommy/BabyGirl dynamic, the Mommies wield all the power and the littles waddle all the way. From storylines of public humiliation to some which lead to gratifying feelings, the dynamic of power exists, but also the connection of love. Titles: Boy Toy 1-5, Girl Power 1-5

The ABDL Apartment Series - Hazel Ridge Lane has hosted quite a few unruly tenants from the nearby college in all of its years as off-campus housing. But everything that residential area has ever seen and known is about to be turned on its head as three couples move into an apartment building and make kinkiness their dynamic way of life. They learn the dynamic they share has different levels, but when all put under the same roof, there will be drama … in diapers. Books 1-3

The Sagas –

The HodgePodge Series - The first thing to know about this series is that it isn’t a series at all, but rather, a collection of books that have no other series to call their home. From Grats to Sagas to Yittlins, this collection holds them all in this jumbled mixture until their sequels appear. Titles: The Dynamic Story, From Sun Up to Sun Down: The ABDL 3-Way Experience, That’s When I Knew, Late Friday Evening … Early Saturday Morning, Johnny and the Princess, Déjà Vu, Lucy, BabyLove, Climax, One Hot Night, Another Hot Night, Crimson, Snake Eyes, 60 Degrees and Down the Crack

The Zeke & Lily Saga – Before Zeke (an author & Daddy) and Lily (a columnist & BabyGirl) met, they were perfect strangers who shared an uncommon interest. Though they lived in the same city, they hadn’t met until she found his profile online. These stories tell their tale, from courting to a possible happily ever after. Titles: Once Upon A Beginning, Overnight, Making a Memory, Her Diary, Ever After, Dream Catching, Resolutions - Part One, Resolution - Part Two, By Summer’s End, For a LifeTime

The Mia Series – Mia is a sweet & shy girl who meets Eric, a guy with a lot of confidence and dominant qualities – attracting her to him immediately. She longs to be controlled. He obliges her request, mixing up her thoughts and rebuilding her into the absolute innocence of a BabyGirl. Titles: Oh What A Weekend, The Next Weekend - The Next Memory, The Weekend of Decision, The Weekend She Believed, The Weekend of Cravings, Her Birthday Weekend, The Weekend of “Signs”, The Weekend of “White-Hot Attention”, The Weekend of Mind-Melting, Her Wedding Weekend

Country Rose - Her name is Rose Bedford, a city girl who needed a little country air and an opportunity to begin again. Awaiting her, quite a ways south of Boston, was a new life that would finally give this flower room to grow. Books 1-4 and continuing.

Gabriel & Gina - College opened Gina up, showing her the littleness within her. Then she explored the darker sides to submission. Embracing the changes in her life & seeking permanency, she met Gabriel, an ever-patient companion, friend, lover & Daddy. And he rocked her world, re-aligning the stars in the skies for her. Titles: When Fantasy Became Her Reality, Two Days - Three Nights, Crossroads

The Yittlins –

The Rock-a-Bye Series – A collection of thoughts, short stories, bedtime stories and other writings about “The Daddy’s Girl Fetish” and the Dynamic between a Daddy and BabyGirl. There is also a fairy tale, coloring and activity book in the series. Titles: Short & Sweet Stories, Thoughts & Other Journeys of the Mind, The Home Sweet Home Stories, The Stories of Time, Yittlin Extreme

The Adventures of Penny –Penny Jordan is a girl who loves being a baby & wearing footed pajamas, regressing to infancy quickly. These stories tell of the many adventures she goes on with Elliot her “Daddy”. Every hop, step and skip of the way, she is his BabyGirl, with a love for being little, a love for adventure and a love for him. Titles: The Pajama BabyGirl, The BeachTown BabyGirl, The SnowBunny BabyGirl, The Traveling BabyGirl