Elizabeth
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Joined: 30 Dec 2007
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 Posted: Mon Dec 31, 2007 11:43 am Post subject: 6: Independence - A Halloween Story |
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I wake up with a yawn, wondering where you are, though once I realize where I am, that becomes much easier to figure out. Especially once my mid-waking squirms bring me up to date as to the condition of my diaper, and the nature of the rest of my outfit, as my toes stretch out, brush against something strangely stiff. Rubber, I think, and rubber I see as I groggily roll over from being curled in a ball to sitting up, immediately wrinkling my nose, and stare across the floor of the playpen at the bottoms of the feet on my sleeper, spread out pretty far from each other with the bulk of my diapers. And I do mean diaper-s-...
You give a bit of a cough, just enough to alert me to your presence, lurking behind me. The smile from hearing my squeak and watching me jump is still on your face by the time I turn around to see you, already bending over the top of the playpen, unsnapping the drop-seat of the pajamas. You just look even more pleased with yourself when you tug on the waistband of the innermost diaper, making me blush as you manage to find a way to check me in the most babyish way possible even when I'm clothed head to foot in pink, fuzzy fleece.
I start to open my mouth, to explain to you that the state of my diapers is bound to be, somehow, my sister's fault, and not further proof in the ever-expanding case against me being a big girl. Certainly, it was something she had done, and had nothing to do with that weird dream where I thought I'd woken up for a moment with a rumbling tummy and just gave a little push so I could go back to sleep. After all, I had been, at best, half awake when she was taping up my diaper, and she never had let me see -everything- she'd brought with her this morning. But you're just smiling, giving my squishy bottom a very light pat. "Get a little too into character, sweetie?"
"What character?" I ask, sticking out my tongue. "I thought this didn't count as a costume." Of course, I'm already regretting it by the time I see that crafty look creep into your eyes. "You know what I mean," I pout, crossing my arms grumpily.
"Come on, let's get you changed, Little Miss Grumpy," you say, reaching down to pluck me out of the playpen, the first leg of the journey back to my room, and the changing table within. "And you know I was joking."
You probably were, I guess. I suppose you didn't really look particularly serious as my sister led me out to show you my costume, with my new sleeper, matching ribbons entwined into my pigtails, holding my favorite bottle (the one with the kitties chasing each other up the side, of course!), with not one, or two, but three diapers bulging around my waist.
"We have to make sure they're noticeable," my sister told me when she saw I was about to complain while she was getting me ready. "That's what will make the costume, you know."
"You still don't have to use the whole package, though," I grumbled, hoping that it was low enough to avoid her actually understanding it, though apparently it hadn't worked, since she had seemingly taken that as a challenge when she changed me once we were back home, before putting me into the playpen.
Then again, she had, for whatever reason, bought the package of diapers specifically for the costume, which, I suppose, was the reasoning behind using so many. They were a brand we'd tried before, and were very cheap, yet managed to be thick and incredibly crinkly, at the same time as being incredibly leaky. Though wearing three at a time definitely helped with that, I have to admit...
"I don't think the judges are going to accept that," you'd said when you saw me, right before you rushed out the door. "I don't think just wearing your jammies counts as a costume."
You'd gotten a good chuckle when I stuck my tongue out and waddled over to the couch, sulking.
"You might slip through the cracks, though, just because you're so cute," you'd said, trying to patch things up, but you hadn't gotten a smile out of me until you cheated and started to tickle my tummy. "And I still wish I could come watch."
"You could..." I suggested, swinging one of my legs and staring up at you from the couch. "You could just skip the meeting..."
"I wish," you'd shrugged apologetically. "I'll see you tonight, though, when we go trick or treating, okay?"
For a moment, while you're scooting my legs free of the sleeper, I begin to worry. Did I miss trick or treating? I glance over at the window, but the curtains are shut, and the clock has been needing new batteries for a couple days now. I hadn't been planning on taking a nap after getting home from the costume contest at the mall, but I'd just felt so sleepy, I almost dozed off twice before my sister finished changing me. I had insisted that I wanted to stay awake for when you got home, though, so she put me into the playpen instead of my crib. But how long was I in there?
And, as you tend to do, you answer the question without me even having to ask it. "Are you all rested up for tonight?"
"Yep!" I nod.
You smile, then move on to untaping the huge mass of diapers. "How did you even walk with all these on?"
I shrug. "It wasn't quite as many when we were actually at the contest," I explain. "But... Not very well. I didn't fall down, though!" I decide not to mention that was probably only because I had so much practice; you decide to remind me that, "Well, your bottom would have been safe if you had."
You settle into silence as you start to clean me off, using nice, cool baby wipes. It's a little chilly out, but not cold enough to actually need a sleeper yet, especially not during the day. Still trying to wake up the rest of the way, so that I can be alert and ready to go get some candy, I stay quiet, too, obediently lifting up so you can replace the stack of diapers with a now thin-feeling Pamper, which you seem to feel the need to fill with baby powder before taping up.
"I'm sorry you didn't win the contest, baby," you say finally. "The judges were probably all blind or something."
They hadn't been; that was the problem. "Some girl dressed as Barbarella won."
"I don't know what that means."
You return my smile as I say, "That's probably good." I stop you as you start to slip me back into the sleeper. "How long before we go out?"
"Pretty soon," you tell me. "Which is why I'm putting you back in your costume... Some ol' judges might not like it, but I bet you'll just be raking in the candy with it." I can't help but giggle as you tap my nose.
However, I have to tell you, "This isn't what I'm wearing for that."
Your eyebrow raises. "Oh, really? I think it might be just a bit too cool out for you to run around in just your diaper, sweetie."
I roll my eyes. "I have another costume..."
"Oh, of course," you grin with a nod. "Where is it, then?"
You actually look a bit surprised when I sit up, starting to squirm the rest of the way out of the sleeper. "I'll take care of it," I say, though your skeptical expression suggests that you are less than assured by this. "I can do it!" I insist. "Go wait for me in the living room!"
"All right, bossy," you give in, holding up your hands, until you turn back at the doorway.
"I'm sure!" I glare, and you retreat, closing the door almost all the way behind you.
"I know how to dress myself," I grumble, in case you're waiting right outside. That seems unlikely, though, since you don't come rushing back in when I give out a gasp as I nearly fall off the table while trying to get my arms untangled from within the sleeper. I guess I probably could/should have let you help me with that much before kicking you out...
There aren't a ton of places for hiding things in my room, but it isn't impossible. Still, it was much simpler to have my sister hide my second costume at her house until earlier today, when she brought it in after you left. Even so, I'd made sure to put it in the very back of the closet, just in case.
I get dressed quickly, knowing you'll likely be back any minute, to "check on me", or to get something that you happened to "forget" in my room, or maybe with no actual excuse at all. It's easy enough to get on, and I almost leave it at that. However, I catch a glimpse of myself in the mirror as I'm leaving my room, and the waistband of my diaper sticking out above my pants catches my eye.
When I take a closer look, it is more the rather visible bulge that I concentrate on, followed by a sudden, rather embarrassing, realization that, if I get close enough, I can clearly see the Sesame Street design across the front of the diaper. I knew the pants were thin, but this is too much.
Not that there's much I can do about it. I don't have any other pants that would look right, nor do I have anything else I can use as a different costume, even if I would have wanted to go as anything else.
"Maybe it isn't that bad," I try to convince myself, turning around, searching for an angle that made the bulge less obvious, despite it seeming to grow larger every second. It might not be quite as bad if it weren't so obviously a diaper... If it were a little thinner, maybe, or a little less babyish...
A light bulb bursts into being above my head. Of course! The last time I'd been in Pull-Ups, Jasmine had been on them, and she was perfect for the costume! It almost makes me wish she would be more visible. If, you know, that wouldn't involve showing the world my status as a Big Kid, Now!
You don't think I know this, but I know that you happen to use the same hiding place as I did, but a little further up, when you put me back into full time diapers. I can't actually reach the top shelf in my closet, which is, I suppose, why you used it. That's nothing a little help from my desk chair won't solve, however, as long as I'm careful not to let the legs scrape against the floor, and alert you to what I'm doing.
I guess I could just wear tights, and they'd probably cover up Elmo pretty well. By the time I think of that, I'm already perched on top of the chair, stretching up, feeling my fingers brush against the half-full package of Pull-Ups. Too late to back out, I tell myself. Plus, it wouldn't fit the costume nearly as well.
I move the chair back, wincing a bit when it hits the edge of my desk, but apparently you aren't hovering right outside after all, seeing as you don't burst through the door to find out what the commotion is. Even so, I can't have much time before you come to investigate what's taking me so long.
I pull loose the tapes of the diaper gently, so they won't be quite as noisy. I wet myself a little first (yes, on purpose! Mostly...) so I won't feel as bad about wasting a fresh diaper. And to help keep my Pull-Up dry until the end of the night. If I'm really lucky, I'll have a chance to change myself back into a diaper before you realize what happened, so I guess I won't be able to use the dry Pull-Up to prove I don't really need diapers to you. I wouldn't mind a little clarification for myself, though. Just a little reminder.
I step into the Pull-Ups, and, despite how goofy it seems, they really do make me feel, at least a touch, like a big girl, especially after my first costume. The pants follow up my legs, and settle into place much closer to my actual body. If someone were busy handing out candy to a bunch of screaming kids, they might not even notice. That almost makes me sad, after having such a stroke of lucky coordination.
To my surprise, you're actually in the living room, or able to get there fast enough to pretend you'd been there the whole time. You glance away from the football game on television when you hear my footsteps, and for once I'm the one who gets to see you look truly, not just a little, surprised, at least for a second or two before you leap up and grab me, spinning me around onto the couch so you can tickle my exposed belly.
You smile down at me as I squirm and giggle under your fingertips, until, if I hadn't just went, I'd be worried that my Pull-Up would already be wet before we leave the house. Finally, you stop, giving me a chance to my feet, smoothing the harem pants out while I get the last few laughs out of my system before I spin around and ask, "Do you like it?", as if I don't already know.
"You're the cutest little genie in the world," you let me know, patting my bottom. There's a pause that seems to go on forever, as my heart thumps attempts to break my rib cage. My gaze darts between your eyes and the floor, afraid to see if you'd noticed or not, but also not wanting to be taken by surprise.
"We'd better get going soon," you say, heading into the kitchen. I sink back onto the couch with a sigh - my eyes had been on the floor when you were speaking, but your voice had sounded perfectly normal. I don't know how, but I got away with it! For now...
I must admit, I'm feeling a little proud of myself, in a suitably devious way. Could it really have been this easy all along? Why had it taken me so long to realize that? After all, despite your claims to the contrary, daddies can't really know -everything-. Could they?
But when you come back, pink jacket and bright orange plastic bag with a jack-o-lantern face in hand, you're looking straight at my Pull-Up, your feet moving more quickly than usual. I scoot backwards quickly, mind already wiped clean of all the pride it had been reveling in as it begins reeling with excuses and pleadings.
You hand me the bag with a smile, help me stand up. The bag already feels strangely heavy, and I open it, fingers almost trembling with excitement now, rather than nerves, only to be highly disappointed. "I don't think I can eat this," I point out, plucking the little flashlight out of the bag.
"That's probably not a good idea, no." You take the flashlight away from me, put it back in the bag, and take my now free hand. "But you should keep it with you, just in case something happens."
"Like what?" I ask, pouting. You lead me through the front door, out into the cool autumn air. I shiver involuntarily, before I can think to try to stop it, and you let go of my hand, start to put me into my jacket. "I'm not cold," I insist.
"Like, you could get lost out in the woods, and you'd need it to find your way out." You ignore the second thing I said, continuing to guide my hands through the arms of the jacket. "Or you could get abducted by aliens and left in the middle of a corn field. You could use your flashlight to signal where you are."
"I don't think that's gonna happen," I stick out my tongue.
You shrug. "But it is slightly possible we could get separated, and I know you wouldn't want to wander around in the dark by yourself."
"It's not gonna be that dark." I've already lost the battle of the jacket, having been distracted by the conversation, and now we're out on the sidewalk, getting further and further away from the house, making it less and less likely that we'll turn around to put the flashlight back, and I'm not sure I'd want that now anyway, since that would cut into valuable candy-gathering time. I figure there's time for one more shot, so I sulkingly tell you, "It's taking up room in my bag."
"Then put it into your jacket pocket, hon."
"Oh."
I sheepishly extract the flashlight, slip it into one of the pockets. As we head for the first stop of the evening, I discover that, if I move just the right way, I can make the flashlight bang against my leg, and start to open my mouth to tell you, and see if that will make you change your mind - though at this point, I'm not entirely sure why I want you to, other than to show you that I was right all along. Then again, the flashlight also makes my jacket hang a little more open than it normally would, thus showing off my costume more. It's not as good as not having to wear a stupid coat, but it's probably as good as it'll get.
There are a few cardboard tombstones scattered across the lawn of this house, covered in cobwebs, with a witch flying overhead, under the branch of the big oak tree, the kind I've always wished we had in our yard, so that maybe one day I could actually learn how to climb it. Pumpkins line the walkway to the front door, grinning. It must have taken the people here forever to carve all of them, but I bet they've gotten lots of pumpkin pie out of the deal.
We're almost halfway across the lawn when the ghost jumps out at me, cackling and swaying menacingly in the wind. I shriek and hide behind you, nearly dropping my still sadly empty bag in the process.
"It's all right," you chuckle. "Calm down."
"I'm fine." I blush as I glance around you to see that the ghost had appeared from inside one of the jack-o-lanterns, which, now that I was next to, was obviously made of plastic rather than a real pumpkin, like the others.
"See?," you ruffle my hair, "It's not a real ghost."
"I knew that," I huff, feeling pretty silly. "I'm not stupid."
Before you can tell me that you weren't saying I was, I wrench my hand free from yours and dart the rest of the way to the front door and ring the doorbell. "Trick or treat!" I call with a smile as the door opens, holding out my bag, accepting candy and compliments.
The exclamations of my cuteness still ring in my ears on the trip back across the lawn. You manage to wipe away my pleased smile pretty quickly, however, as you grab ahold of me, giving me a quick swat on the bottom, which hurts more than you probably intended. Even though I know that's kinda my fault, I turn and glare, tears sprouting at the corners of my eyes.
"You know better than to run off like that, young lady," you scold.
"It was just right up there," I whine, before finding myself silenced by a look. "I'm sorry," I mumble instead.
"I know you are, sweetie." Your expression softens, and you kiss the top of my head. Which shows what you know, because I'm not at all, as I try to show you by pouting and sulking while we travel towards the next house. "I just don't want you to get lost, or kidnapped, or something, you know."
"I can take care of myself," I grumble under my breath. You glance at me, cock your ear towards me. "Nothing," I say more loudly, and wait patiently for you to walk me all the way up to the door, on which the Grim Reaper is standing, seemingly just chilling. Guess he doesn't have anything better to do.
"Someone looks like a grouchy little genie," coos the witch who answers my knock.
I give her a big, fake smile, but from behind me, you tell her, "She just got up from a nap a little while ago," and the witch smiles knowingly.
We nearly run into a roving band of ghosts on the way out, so I decide to delay insisting to you that I was -not- grumpy because of my nap until we pass them. The next house is just a few feet away after that. I'm not sure if I'll be able to convince you before we get to the door; I just keep quiet, think of the happiest things I can.
"Aren't you cute?" asks the vampire with the candy dish. "You like Halloween, huh?"
I nod enthusiastically, and beam even brighter when he gives me an extra piece of candy. I'm practically skipping on the way back to the sidewalk, vaguely recalling that I'm not supposed to be happy with you, but not sure exactly why. It can wait. Mr. Vampire was right - I -do- love Halloween, and I should be enjoying it, not sulking. There'll be plenty of time for that later, when I might actually have a chance to make you apologize for... whatever you did.
The next house has a nice, big porch, which happens to already have a few kids standing on it, and a frazzled looking older woman at the bottom of the steps. You pause there as well, so I wait semi-patiently with you, until, after a moment or two, you push me off towards the door, whispering, "Go ahead. I'll be right here."
I feel rather independent and grown up as I bounce up the porch steps, turning around at the top, even though it really isn't that far from the bottom where you are, to give you a quick wave, at least until I see how young the other kids there are.
Most of them don't pay me any mind, but one of the littlest, a blonde, curly-haired princess, turns and smiles at me. "You look pretty," she giggles.
"You, too," I smile for a second until her giggling becomes too contagious to resist.
Once the door begins to open, she shoves in front of me, holding open her bag greedily, so that it all but blocks mine from sight. You're probably watching, so I'm very nice as I try to push one of her arms out of the way with my bag, only to have her turn and stick out her tongue very quickly, turning back to smile innocently at the candy-giver by the time the door opens completely.
Despite a touch of anxiety on my part, I do, in fact, end up getting some candy, though, I'm pretty sure, not as much as the princess. She ignores my glare as she turns, starts to walk across the porch. 'She's just a stupid little kid,' I comfort myself. 'Prolly still in diapers.'
Of course, I am, too, normally... But she'd probably never even been out of them! So there! Though, thinking about it, I'm not sure if it's better or worse to have been out of them, and then demoted back to them. More than a few times. Still, there was a time when I'd been out of diapers - including now, I remind myself with a devious grin - and even, as long ago as it felt, a time when I'd been out of Pull-Ups. At the very least, I had that on the mean little princess who'd stolen my extra piece of candy.
I get to believe that until we reach the steps, which she flounces down in front of me, pink skirt and petticoats bouncing. She doesn't seem to notice or care that she's showing off her panties, which goes to show that, even without diapers, she's still just a baby. I would never think to be so immodest. Well, unless my Pull-Ups happen to match my costume perfectly, and then I might slightly -consider- it, but that would be it!
Luckily, her whole group is going the opposite direction as you're taking me, so I don't have to think about her anymore. Until you casually say, "I certainly hope I didn't see you shoving that little girl back there."
"She was trying to take my candy!" I protest, quickly backpedaling to, "But no."
"You're going to have plenty of candy," you sigh. Like that could possibly be true. "Unless you can't be a good little girl, and then we can go home right now."
"I'm good!" I exclaim, smiling sweetly up at you.
"That's what I thought." You pat the top of my head. "And good little girls don't push and shove, do they?"
I shake my head.
"And they stay with Daddy when they're out in the evening, don't they?"
"There were lights out there," I pout, but I nod anyway.
"They don't climb up on high things that they could fall off of and hurt themselves, do they?"
"It wasn't that high!" I protest automatically. I wince; how did I get tricked so easily? "A-And, I didn't spoil my appetite at all, I ate plenty of lunch." I even add a general grumbling about stupid tattle-tale sisters to add authenticity, and because it's true. It was just one cookie! If you'd keep them on the counter, I wouldn't need chairs, anyway.
"Uh-huh..." Your voice is sounding dangerously skeptical.
"I'm sorry, Daddy." I sniffle softly.
You break, kneeling down to give me a hug. "It's all right, sweetie. You can still finish trick or treating."
"Thank you, Daddy!" I squeal.
"Is there anything else you want to apologize for, while we're at it?" I might pause for just a little too long before I shake my head innocently, trying to judge whether you actually know anything, but, luckily, I seem to have made the right decision. "Let's go get some more candy!"
You take my hand, and we start to walk again. "Do good little girls lie?" you ask.
This one's easy. "Nope!" I answer enthusiastically, looking down into my bag to check what all I've gotten so far.
"I didn't think so." Your voice stays the same, almost tricks me again. "And bad girls get spanked, now don't they?"
"Ye... Er..." I know I messed up somewhere, if I ever really had a chance. It's too late to take it back now. "Or they could get ice cream, maybe," I suggest.
"They could, I suppose," you nod. "But I don't think that's what we'll do."
"Didn't think so," I sigh.
"You could've just asked, sweetie," you shake your head.
"But you might've said no!"
"I don't know... It is pretty cute. Even if it does need changing."
"Nuh-uh!" I protest, glancing down at my pants, where, sure enough, when I looked hard enough, I saw a noticeable lack of flowers on the Pull-Up beneath. "Oh." When had that happened? Maybe when that ghost attacked me... I'm honestly not sure.
"You don't want to leak all over your costume, do you?" I shake my head sheepishly. "Do you want to go get changed? We can come back out after."
"Do I hafta wear a diaper?" I ask quietly.
"It would last longer," you shrug. "But... Since it's your costume, I'll let you choose, okay?"
I nod, and we turn around. We pass the princess's group on the way home, and I turn and stick my tongue out at her, not caring whether you can see me or not. I'm already in enough trouble. And it isn't like I'll see her again for you to make me apologize.
Or so I think, until the doorbell rings while I'm waiting as patiently as I can for you to get out of the bathroom, rubbing my sore bottom through the crinkly plastic around it - hey, I might as well get as much candy as I can while we're out there. "The candy dish is in the kitchen!" you call.
I run back to get it, then go back to the door, opening it to find her. And the other kids, of course. "Trick or treat!" she smiles sweetly, holding her bag wide open. I'd swear she's barely keeping from giggling as she looks at me, and I wonder if the diaper is that obvious.
I pass out the candy quickly, wanting to get rid of them. "You forgot me!" the princess wails as I start to close the door.
"Oh, I'm so sorry," I smile sweetly, give her the smallest thing I can find before waving goodbye to her. "Happy Halloween!" She's still pouting when her mother, or whoever the woman is, tells her to come on, and she flounces off in a huff.
As obvious as my diaper may have been to her, it's even more obvious from the way she's walking that she'll be needing to go to the potty soon, especially when I hear the woman tell her, "You should've asked them there."
At least I won't have to worry about that, I tell myself. Stupid little kid, thinking she's better than me. It would just serve her right if she ended up wetting herself. That's what you got when you went around out of diapers before you were ready.
Good thing I'd never be that silly.
"Ready to go?" you ask, taking the candy dish out of my hands before I can casually dump it into my bag.
I nod with a smile - not too big, so maybe you'll decide that the few swats you gave me before taping me up into my diaper count as my whole spanking - take your hand, and together, we head off into the night.
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