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Widow's Peek Chapter 5

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WARNING: The following story contains age play, diapers, and an excessive amount of pseudo-exploratory dialogue concerning age play and diapers.  The idea of Black Widow ABing came from a picture by the loverly Pink Diapers, please see the links in the Description section.  In fact, do that before—or in lieu of—reading this.  The idea of all the talky nonsensey, trying to think through issues way too big for me stuff is all my fault, and in no way should be blamed on Pink Diapers.  If this doesn’t sound like a three hour tour you’d like to take, please disembark at this time—and check to make sure you aren’t leaving any personal items behind.  To everyone else, hug your sick bags close and please don’t feed the dolphins.  


Chapter 5

Her head safely nestled in Emma’s lap, Natalie fell asleep before they’d gotten past page six.  She’d tried to stay awake longer, knowing that the close of her eyes would be the end of this day, and she was anything but ready for it to end.  But she was too tired.  And quite possibly she got a little help from a certain, fabulous, blond psychic.

Natasha opened her eyes, a sleepy fog clinging to her gray matter.  She looked up.  She expected to see Emma keeping watch over her dreams, but there was no Emma.  She looked around.  She knew she was in her safe house, had the layout memorized to the point she could navigate all the rooms in utter darkness.  However something was wrong—off—but try as she might, she couldn’t place it.  With a breath she tried to force that internal fog to roll back, to uncoat her synapses, but the fog didn’t roll.  

With more effort than she expected, Natasha sat up.  Her body wobbled back and forth, as if unsure of what to do with itself.  Eventually she pitched forward, barely getting her hands down in time to save her from face-spatting.  The floor beneath her face was just that: a floor.  Not a cushion.  Not a sofa.  A floor, covered with a soft mat decorated in explosions of vivid colors.  

Now certain something was wrong, Natasha padded forward, toward the looming bars of her pen.  Something finally struck her.  She shouldn’t be in a pen.  Nor, come to think about it, should she be forced to crawl.  At the towering plastic bars, Natasha slowly worked her way to standing, only to find the bars were nearly twice as tall as she was.  She had to do something, to get out, to get free, to figure out what had happened to her.  

On the wall across from the crib was a mirror positioned as if solely to let Natasha look at herself, and the self she saw was a toddler with a chubby, little face crowned with a mess of red, red hair, a round tummy pooching over the waistband of her Pampers, and flabby, pale legs.  Natasha patted at her cheeks with fat fingers, and the tot in the mirror did the same.  She sat back onto her bottom, the thick padding of her diaper cushioning her plop.  The tot in the mirror did the same.  

This was wrong, Natasha realized through the haze.  Sure she occasionally played baby.  She played with toys and sucked her thumb.  Sometimes she even made wet-wets in her diaper.  But she wasn’t a really real baby.  She was big girl.  With that realization, Natasha, determined to find out what had happened, how to fix it, and whom to make pay, called upon all the experience she’d accumulated over her life, all the skills and knowledge she possessed…and threw her head back, mouth wide open in the pained wailings of infantile frustration.  She knew if she cried long enough and loud enough, Mommy would come and make it all better.  

“No need to be such a crybaby,” said a familiar voice.  

It took Natasha s second, but upon recognizing it, her face lit up in glee.  “Emma?”  

Natasha scrambled to face the voice, unable to contain her relief.  Emma would know what to do.  She’d take care of Natasha.  Maybe even make Natasha a big girl again.  

But when she finally got turned around, there was no Emma.  Only another toddler.  A little bigger than Natasha.  With shiny blond hair.  Bright, innocent blue eyes.  And the face of a perfect angel.  She was the most adorable thing Natasha had ever seen.  

She stared at the diabetes-inducingly cute girl for quite a while before, “Emma?”

“No, the Marquis de Sade,” said Emma, her adult voice booming out of the toddler’s body.  “Of course it’s me.”  

The incongruency of Mommy Emma’s voice coming from Baby Emma’s mouth, understandably, upset Natasha.  She scooted back from the girl.  “Why you talk…”  Natasha had some trouble finding the right words to compete her thought.  “…so big girl?”  

The tot smiled at her, a radiant upturning of lips that lit up the entire room.  “Mostly to mess with your head.”  

“Please stop,” Natasha begged.  “It scary!”  

Emma rolled her eyes, and in a voice more befitting her body, said, “This better?”  

“Uh-huh,” Natasha nodded.  “But why we babies?”  

With much more ease than Natasha, Emma stood and waddled over to the smaller tot before squatting down beside her.  “Because you really good girl.  And I proud of you.  So I give you gift.”  

Natasha looked down at her chubby hands.  “This gift?”  

“Yeah,” said Emma.  “You get to be real baby.”  

“I don’t wanna be real baby,” Natasha whined with a pout.  “I wanna be big girl.  And go with Avengers.  And not need live in a diaper.”  

Emma reached out and patted Natasha’s cheek.  “This only dream, silly.  I let you dream what you can’t do in real life.”  

“What you mean?” ask Natasha, but Emma didn’t answer.  The blond just grinned a grin so cute it could be nothing but devious.  

And then the door opened.  And in walked Carol and Jessica, bigger than life.  

“What’s the ruckus in here?” asked Carol, clearly not pleased.  “It’s supposed to be naptime.”  

Jessica took one look at Natasha, and seeing the puffy, redness around her eyes, said, “Told you it was Tasha.  It’s always Tasha.  I’ll bet our little Emma was sleeping sweetly until Red here woke her up.”  She reached down and scooped Emma up, cradling the blond baby to her chest and giving her an Eskimo kiss.  “Isn’t that right, my widdle sweetie-weetie?”  

Emma giggled and wrapped her arms—as best she could—around Jessica’s neck.  “Tasha just scared,” Emma explained.  “She have bad dream.”  

Softening her expression, Carol placed a warm hand on Emma’s back.  “Look at you.  Taking up for the little monster.”  

Emma looked up over her shoulder at Carol, and with all the sincerity a tot could muster, said, “She my friend!”  

“Of course she is,” said Carol.  

“And you’re so sweet to be her friend,” Jessica said.  

“If only she’d be better behaved,” said Carol, “maybe she’d have more friends.”  

Watching Emma get all the attention, Natasha was quickly becoming jealous.  She tried to stand up, and failing that, she crawled back to the bars and hefted herself up to standing, stretching up her hands to Carol, to be picked up and cuddled.  “I good girl!  I good!”  

Jessica’s smirk was immediate.  “Oh, yeah.  You’re great.  At being a whiney, snotty brat.”  

The insult stung Natasha deeply.  She frowned up at Jessica, her chest starting to heave in announcement of tears to come.  

“Oh, look,” said Carol, “she’s going to throw another tantrum.”  She stole Emma from Jessica’s arms and bounced the little girl on her hip.  “Emma doesn’t throw tantrums, do you, honey-bunny?”  

Emma just smiled and ate up the larger blond’s attention.  Carol rewarded her with a peck on the cheek.  

Seeing she was getting nowhere with Carol, Natasha turned her outstretched arms to Jessica, who responded by folding her arms and rolling her eyes.  

“Nnnnhhhhg,” demanded Natasha, stomping a foot.  

Carol sighed.  She hate to give into Natasha’s whimpering, as it only encouraged her already bad behavior, but, “Well, Jessica, it is feeding time.”  

“Of course it is,” deadpanned Jessica.  She reached down and plucked Natasha out of the playpen.  “Otherwise we would be forced to not reward bad behavior.”  

“Well we can’t let her starve.”  

All this flew right over Natasha’s red head.  She just knew she was getting picked up.   And that meant she’d get the same, loving treatment Emma always got.  When Jessica picked her up, Natasha did her best to enwrap herself in the woman’s arms, but Jessica only held her long enough to put her Pampered posterior onto the floor.  

“Unnnhhh!” Natasha complained, throwing her arms up at Jessica.  “I want uppies!  Uppies, Auntie Jess-Jess.”  

“And I want you to learn how to walk,” said Jessica.  “You’re getting a little big to be carried everywhere.”  

Natasha looked over to where the highchairs were, across the room, what seemed to her like miles and miles away.  She whined up at Jessica, but it got her nowhere.  Still, she was determined to earn Jessica’s affection, no matter what, so she pushed herself to standing, determined to make it over.  And when she did, she knew Jessica would lavish her with love, and petting, and maybe a new toy.  

She made it two steps before plopping back onto her bottom.  The feel of rushing suddenly downward, along with the firm thump of floor on butt—which put her in mind of getting spankings—startled Natasha.  She looked up at Jessica and Carol, gauging their response before determining her own.  

“Oh, here we go,” said Carol, shifting Emma to her other arm.  “Turn on the water works.”  

“Betcha Emma wouldn’t cry over something so silly,” said Jessica.  

“And I’ll bet Emma could walk to her highchair easily,” said Carol.  

Emma, just happy to hear her name, gleefully said, “I walk good!”  

Carol gasped at her in that way adults do when they want to act surprised and pleased with a child.  “You do?”  

“Uh-huh!”  

“Why don’t you show Natasha how a real big girl walks?” asked Jessica.

“Okay!” Emma exclaimed, and when Carol put her down, she waved to Natasha.  “Watch me Tasha!  Watch me!  I do walkies!”  

Just as Carol predicted, Emma waddled over to her highchair at a fast clip.  Not even once did she come close to tipping over.  When she reached the chair, she turned back around to her audience, clapping her hands and bouncing on her toes as she announced, “I make it!  I make it!”  

“You sure did!” said Carol, scooping the exuberant girl up and snuggling her.  “What a good walker you are, Emma!”  

Jessica, still standing over Natasha, clapped her hands at Emma’s feat.  “Such a good, big girl you are!  Much better than Natasha.”  

“Come on, Tasha,” encouraged Emma from her perch on Carol’s hip.  “You walkie too!  You do it!”  

Between the adults’ jeering and Emma’s cheering, Natasha was determined to show them what a big girl she was.  She could walk just as easily as Emma.  She clamored to her feet and took an unsteady step.  Then a second.  And a third.  She got five steps in—a personal best—before falling over.  But instead of crying, she worked her way back to standing to try again.  Only to immediately topple over.  And once again to the same results.

It just wasn’t fair!  Emma made it look so easy.  And she wanted to impress Auntie Jess-Jess and Auntie Care-Care so badly.  But she couldn’t.  She just kept falling.  Because her stupid feet wouldn’t let her go walkies.  And the stupid chairs were so far away.  And she was disappointing her aunts, who only wanted her to be a big girl and do big girl things.  Instead she was just like a stupid baby.  

Again holding up her arms to Jessica, Natasha began to cry.  She looked up at her auntie through her tears, further upset when Jessica simply shook her head.  

“No,” said Jessica.  “If you can’t walk like a big girl—like Emma—then you can crawl like a stinky, little baby.”  

Natasha turned her wailed entreaties to Auntie Care-Care, but Carol was busy strapping Emma into the highchair.  Without looking back, Carol said, “You want lunch, Tashie?  You better step—or crawl—to.”  

Since it was evident no one was going to help her, Natasha finished out her cry, then pitched forward and began the long crawl across the room.  

Jessica made a point of walking in front of her.  And if her intent was to make Natasha feel small, it worked.  Natasha craned her neck up at Auntie Jess-Jess.  Tall.  And lithe.  And built with the musculature to make an Olympic gymnast jealous.  So, so much different than the chubby little toddler who didn’t even seem able to toddle yet.  

When she finally reached her destination, Emma clapped for her, cheering, “You make it, Tasha!”  

“She did,” said Carol.  “But she couldn’t walk like you, could she?”  

“I walk good!” declared Emma, just in case someone had missed the earlier memo.  

“And for a toddler, Tasha crawls just fine,” said Jessica in a cloying voice.  

Natasha, still burning with shame at her defeat, was lifted and strapped into the highchair, and with both the tots ready, the feeding began.  Emma was delighted to find her lunch was sliced bananas and peanut butter, some grapes, and a sippy cup of juice.  She picked up a banana slice with skinny little fingers and maneuvered it into her mouth, only the slightest bit of peanut butter scraping off on her top lip.  And even that she whisked away with a quick flick of her tongue.  

“Good girl!” Carol praised her.  “Eating all by yourself!”  

Meanwhile Natasha was finding lunch to be anything but exciting.  Instead of a yummy spread, she’d got a jar of strained peas.  

“No!” she said, smacking her tray with a defiant hand.  

“Excuse me?” asked Jessica.  

“No!” repeated Natasha.  “No baby food!  No baby!  Me want yummy!  Like Emma!”    

“Well, sweetie,” Jessica said in a patronizing tone, “Emma eats like a big girl because she is a big girl.”  

“I big girl!”  

“Oh, really?”  Jessica laughed, but Natasha found the sound anything but soothing.  “Emma can walk.  And Emma knows what to do during naptime.  And Emma doesn’t throw a little hissy fit every time something doesn’t go her way.  Can you say that?”  

Natasha, not wanting to admit she couldn’t, offered the counterargument of, “I big girl.”  

“Eat your peas.”  

“I feed?”  

“Not a chance.”  

Scooping out a big spoonful of the baby food, Jessica directed it to Natasha’s mouth.  But Natasha, still mad about being treated like a baby, decided to get back at Jessica, turning her head aside at the last minute and forcing the spoon to splat across her cheek.  Jessica huffed at this bit of juvenile behavior, but held her tongue as she got a second spoonful.  Which Natasha responded to by turning her head the other way, causing much the same mess.  

“Natasha!” Jessica warned.  

“Such a baby,” said Carol, who’d taken to stroking Emma’s pretty, flaxen hair as the tot fed herself with nearly superhuman efficiency.  “Nothing at all like our Emma.  Look at her feed herself.  She’s better at it than you are, Jessica.”  

“Hey,” Jessica exclaimed in jest, “it’s not my fault ketchup drips.”  

“Jessie messy!” declared Emma, and upon seeing how much that made the women laugh, she repeated it.  “Jessie messy!  Messy Jessie!”  

With Emma again getting all the attention, Natasha made an attempt to get a little for herself.  “Messy wessy Jessie!”  

This ceased any and all laughter from the women.  Jessica looked down at her—especially at the gloopy, green mess dribbling off Natasha’s chin and all down her bib.  “You really don’t get to call anyone messy.  I mean, look at you.  Three spoons of baby food—that you can’t even get in your mouth—and we’re going to need to run you through a carwash to get you cleaned up.”  

“No, i—”

Jessica took the opportunity of an opened mouth to stuff a spoonful of strained peas in.  The taste made Natasha gag, and almost immediately a huge lump of mush was dribbling out of her mouth to join its fellow mush already coating Natasha’s bib.  

“Natasha!” barked Jessica.  “You did that on purpose!”  

“No,” Natasha pleaded.  “It icky!”  

“It’s good for you!”  

“Icky!”  

“You don’t see Emma spitting out her food, do you?” asked Carol, drawing attention to the little angel who’d moved on to her grapes, her bib and mouth practically spotless.  

“Tasha, you hafta eat,” said Emma, putting her hand up to her mouth in demonstration.  “It how you get big, and strong, and pretty.  Like Auntie Care-Care and Auntie Jess-Jess.”

“Aww,” said Carol, kissing her on the forehead.  “You’re such a sweet girl, Emma.”  

Jessica leaned over to kiss the side of Emma head.  “And you’ve got such good taste.”  

Beaming like a thousand-watt bulb, Emma put the last grape in her mouth, and upon chewing and swallowing, declared, “All done!”  

“You cleaned your whole plate!” praised Jessica.  

“I’m so proud of you!” said Carol, and when Jessica elbowed her playfully in the ribs, she added, “We’re so proud of you.”  

“And what happens when good girls finish their lunch?” Jessica asked Carol.  

“They get a treat,” Carol responded, producing a slice of chocolate cake. She started to put it in front of Emma, but stopped short.  “Unless you’re not hungry…”  

“I hungry!  I hungry!” Emma sang, her eyes nearly as big as the cake’s plate.  

Natasha looked between the cake, and Emma, and her Aunties.   “I get cake too?”  

Digging out another spoonful of baby food, Jessica dispassionately said, “Eat your peas.”  

Natasha pouted at the spoon, as if that would somehow make it go away—or at least transform into something less vile, but the mass of green ick remained a mass of green ick.  She stuck out her tongue at the supposed ‘food’ and shuddered involuntarily, wondering if any amount of chocolate cake was worth this.  The answer came when Jessica moved the spoon toward Natasha’s mouth and Natasha again turned away.  

While Natasha and Jessica kept up their dance, Emma was digging into her cake.  With a fork.  Which she was using herself.  With uncanny precision, Emma cut off piece after piece of her cake and directed each bite to her mouth with minimal mess.  

“Look!” Jessica finally declared in exasperation, pointing at Emma.  “Emma can use a fork.”  Jessica gestured to Natasha’s now mostly green face.  “You can’t even use a spoon when someone else is operating it!”  

Natasha blinked over at Emma, using her fork like she’d been born to it.  None of this seemed fair.  Natasha tried so hard to be good.  But it was always so hard she couldn’t do it.  Whereas everything came so easily for Emma.  She walked.  And fed herself.  And…  

A sensation hit Emma, and putting her fork down on her plate, she blinked her baby blues up at Carol.  “Auntie Care-Care?”  

“Yes, Emma?”  

“I need to go potty.”  

“Right now?”  

Emma nodded.  “Uh-huh.  I need to potty real bad!”  

Moving like lightning, Carol unhitched the tray, picked Emma up, and hurried her over to the purple and silver potty chair shaped like a throne.  She helped Emma get her training pants down and got her situated on her throne several seconds before Emma got on with it.  

“I’m so proud of you,” Carol said, stroking Emma’s cheek.  “Knowing when you need to go potty shows your Aunties what a big girl you are.”  

“Really?”  

“Really, really,” said Carol.  She looked over at Jessica for confirmation.  “Isn’t that right, Auntie Jess-Jess?”  

“It’s absotively right,” said Jessica with a nod.  “It means Emma might be ready for big girl panties.”  

“Big girl panties!” Emma exclaimed, thrilled at the thought.  

“Uh-huh,” affirmed Carol.  “Maybe not quite yet.  But if you keep telling Auntie when you need to go potty, it won’t be long.  Think you can do that for us?”  

“Yeah!  Yeah, yeah!”  Emma clapped.  “Hear that Tasha?  I get big girl panties soon!”  

But Natasha wasn’t listening.  She was too busy thinking about how she could impress her Aunties.  She’d show them how big girl she was.  She could tell them when she needed to go potty.  She knew she could.  Then she would get praised like Emma and given promises of big girl panties.  Something pretty, maybe with The Little Mermaid on it—because Ariel had red hair, just like her.  She only wished she needed to go potty now, so she could show everyone how big she could be.  

“Natasha!”

The boom of Jessica’s voice, clearly not pleased, broke Natasha from her dream.  Her little shoulders hunching up in shame—although she wasn’t entirely sure for what, yet—Natasha looked up at Jessica with wide eyes.  “Yes, Auntie Jess-Jess?”  

Jessica motioned a hand at her.  The hand was very nearly flailing, as if Jessica was too flustered to form actual sentences and was solely dependent on vague gestures to convey her meaning.  Natasha frowned in concern, wondering what she’d done wrong, then she followed the gesture toward its target: her seat.  There didn’t seem to be anything wrong with it.  Maybe a little spilled food, but nothing dire.  

Natasha shifted to get a better look.  Then she shifted again.  Something was wrong.  But Natasha couldn’t quite place it.  Her diaper looked odd.  It had gotten bigger, somehow, than the last time she’d looked at it.  And something was wrong with the Disney princesses on the front.  They’d begun to fade, as if preparing to leave Natasha behind for being neither a big, nor a good, girl.  And then there was the feeling.  A warmth—a squishy warmth—cradling Natasha’s bottom.  But it felt kinda good.  Relaxing.  

Experimenting, Natasha rocked back and forth, the rustle of her diaper against the plastic of her highchair accompanied with a new, soggy sound.  The sound of thoroughly soaked padding sloshing around.  It was funny.  

Natasha laughed up at Jessica.  “My diaper feel so warm!  And good!  And funny!”

“It’s not funny, Natasha!” said Jessica.  “You went potty in your diaper.”  

“Nuh-uh,” said Natasha, convinced Auntie Jess-Jess was being silly.  “I know when I need go potty!  I big girl!”  

“Natasha Natalie Romanova, you wet your diaper,” said Jessica.  To prove her point, she grabbed the front of Natasha’s diaper and squeezed, rubbing it against the tot.  

It felt icky, the padding releasing its contents against Natasha’s skin like a squeezed sponge.  And that magical warmth had somehow disappeared, leaving behind only an infuriating chill.  Natasha squirmed, determined to get away from that feeling, but everywhere she went, it followed her, clinging tight, reminding her of what a sad, pathetic, little baby she was.  

Emotions swelling up, Natasha went berserk.  She kicked at the bottom of her tray.  She flailed her hands wildly.  She tossed her head back and forth, as if shaking out all the sad she could.  

At first Jessica was content to watch her.  And then Natasha kicked over the baby food jar, while an errant slap knocked the spoon out of Jessica’s hand.  

“Natasha!” barked Jessica.  “That’s enough.  I won’t tolerate this kind of behavior.”  

“Nnnnn!” screamed Natasha, kicking and screaming even harder.  

“Natasha,” Jessica said, wagging a finger in warning.  

Natasha lashed out at the finger—that symbol of everything wrong, of her being treated like a stupid little baby, while Emma was the oh, so perfect angel, of all her Aunties’ mean taunting, of her own repeated failings and frustrations—with both hands, making solid contact.  It blow didn’t hurt Jessica.  Natasha was too small, too weak, to deliver any real force.  But that wasn’t the point.  The point was Natasha was being a royal monster.  And hitting Auntie was never acceptable.  

“That’s.  It,” said Jessica.  

“Oh, no!” Emma said, knowing what was coming next.  

“It’s okay,” Carol said, soothing her.  “Natasha’s been a bad, bad girl.”  

“But I don’t want Tasha get ouchies.”  

“I know, sweetie,” said Carol, brushing back Emma’s locks, “but Natasha’s got to learn to behave.  Unfortunately, this is how she learns.”  

“Can I make her feel better?” asked Emma.

“After Jessica’s done,” said Carol.  

Jessica already had the little terror over her knee.  The only thing protecting Natasha’s hiney from a little bare-bottomed action was the fact that her bottom was soaked, and there was no way Jessica was going to put her hand through that.  

Natasha thrashed wildly, trying in vain to escape her punishment, already reduced to tears at the knowledge of what was coming, repeating a constant loop of, “No, no, no, no!”  

“You’ve been asking for this all day,” said Jessica.  

“No!”  

With no further preamble, Jessica got down to business.  The sound of her hand resonating against the squishy plastic backing of Natasha’s diaper frightening the girl more than any actual pain…at least for the moment.  The feel of her soppy wet mess plastered forcefully against her skin didn’t help matters either.    

“You’ve been acting like a whiney, spoiled brat since breakfast!”  

The warmth of Jessica’s spanking was beginning to work its way through the cold padding.  

“Pitching fits.  Interrupting Emma’s naptime.  Making mess after mess.  Not including the mess you made in your diaper.  Because you’re too much of a baby to tell Auntie you need to go potty.”  

The heat raged against Natasha’s skin until it burned down deep.  

“And if that’s not bad enough.  You think it’s okay.  To go and hit your Auntie.”  

“No-hoh-hoh-hoh!”  

Jessica turned the spanking up a few degrees.  “What was that?”  

“N-n-not…not ‘k-kay!” Natasha screamed between sobs.  “Not!  ‘Kay!”  

“Not okay?” repeated Jessica, easing up her swats to let the little one speak.  “What’s not okay?”  

“N-not ‘kay, hit Auntie J-jess-Jess…”   Natasha paused, mostly because she was having trouble breathing and speaking at the same time.  “I no m-mean to.  I-I bad girl.  Not ‘kay hit Auntie!”  

“Do you mean that?” asked Jessica, this time delivering only a few swats.  “Or are you just saying that so Auntie will stop?”  

“I mean.  I mean,” sobbed Natasha.  “I no wanna hit Auntie!”  

While Natasha had been a perfect monster all day long, and while Jessica was beyond annoyed with the girl’s non-stop antics, Jessica’s heart was far from made of stone, and hearing the contrition in Natasha’s voice, Jessica stopped the punishment.  Besides, it wasn’t as if she hadn’t already delivered a solid spanking.  

She let Natasha cry herself out for a few minutes before scooping the girl up in her arms—mindful to not put any pressure on Natasha’s doubtlessly raw tushie.  “You know I don’t enjoy doing that, don’t you?”  

Natasha, not looking Auntie Jess-Jess in the eye, nodded.  

“Natasha,” said Jessica, and when the girl didn’t look up, Jessica used a finger to tilt up her chin.  “Natasha, I’m not mad at you.”  

“Y-you’re not?”  

Jessica shook her head.  “I’m disappointed.  Because I know what a good girl you can be.  What a sweet girl you can be.  But when you’re not, you have to get spankings.  Because that’s how you learn.  Because I love you.  And want you to grow up to be the bestest good girl in all the world.  Do you believe me?  Do you believe I love you and only want what’s best?”  

Natasha nodded.  

“Do you really believe that?  Or are you just nodding because you think it’s what Auntie wants?”  

“I believe,” said Natasha, her voice raw and tiny.  “A-and Auntie Jess-Jess…”  

“Yes?”  

“I love you too.”  

“I know you do, sweet pea,” said Jessica, hugging the girl to her.  “I know you do.”

Carol quietly came over, knelt beside Jessica, and joined her friend in hugging their little one.  “We both love you, Tasha.”

“Me too!” squealed Emma, just glad all that scary spanking business was over.  “I love you too, Tasha!”  

With Carol’s help, Emma squirmed up onto Jessica’s knee, the better to kiss Natasha’s cheek.  Natasha was so happy to finally get some affection from her Aunties—and Emma—that the spanking almost seemed worth it.  Almost.  

With everyone’s mood much improved, Jessica got Natasha changed, and the women carried their charges over to their crib, cooing sweet little somethings to them both the whole way.  

Once they’d been laid down, Emma, ever the attention whore, squealed, “Watch, Aunties!  Watch!”  

With both hands she grabbed her foot and pulled it up to her mouth, rolling onto her back as she sucked on her toes.  

“Oh, my god,” said Jessica, “she’s so precious!”  

“Have you ever seen anything more adorable?” asked Carol.  

“Not even a box of kittens cuddling a duckling,” answered Jessica.  

With Emma again entrenched as the center of attention, Natasha imitated her, putting her own tootsies in her mouth.  

“Oh, Natasha,” said Jessica with a dismissive wave.  “What’re you doing?”  

“Copying Emma again?” asked Carol.  “You should really learn your own tricks.”  

Natasha popped her toe out of her mouth, the force of its removal leaving her lips in a deep pout.  But her Aunties weren’t about to leave her in so foul a humor.  They both rubbed her cubby, little tummy until she cackled in glee.  

“It’s okay, Natasha,” said Jessica.  

“Yeah, squirt, we still love you,” said Carol.  “Now go to sleep.  Both of you.”      

Their girls safely ensconced in their crib, the Carol and Jessica left them to hopefully get the nap they hadn’t earlier.  When the door closed Emma crawled over beside Natasha, patting her on the shoulder.  

“You okay?” she asked.  

Natasha nodded.  

“That spanking looked bad.”  

“It was.  I still hurt.”  

Carefully, Emma eased herself around Natasha, wrapping her scrawny arms around her friend’s big belly.  “I make you feel better?”  

“Yeah,” said Natasha, placing her hands on top of Emma’s.  “I feel safe with you.”  

It wasn’t long before both tots were out cold.  



“Natasha,” a voice called through the mist of dreams.  “Natasha, it’s time to wake up.”  

Natasha opened her eyes to find Emma looking down at her in amusement.  “That’s some imagination you’ve got…”  Emma’s lips upturned in a devious grin.  “…widdoo Tasha.”

“Eight dozen.”  

With her adultness returned to her, Natasha reaffirmed what she’d said in her diapered state—that she was not only willing to continue this exploration, she wanted to do so with Emma as her Mommy.  The two women got cleaned up, and dressed, and went to a proper lunch, where they discussed the particulars of how this new relationship would work out.  Natasha still had her doubts, but the combined efforts of Emma and Natalie made her think perhaps there was hope of acceptance.  And it was certainly worth pursuing.  

Epilogue:

From the private journal of Natasha Romanova:

‘August 3, 2014 – Nothing has changed, and yet it seems like everything has changed.  I am still the same person I was.  All the same qualifications.  All the same limitations.  All the same quirks and doubts.  I am still just a spy and assassin among gods, aliens, and super soldiers.  My past is still my past, a shadow that won’t go away.  And maybe it never will.  Maybe my sins can never be remitted.  Or even balanced out.  Whatever the case, they are my burden to bare, and I will bare them.  

However, in other areas of my life I have begun making steps toward peace.  Possibly even acceptance.  I’ve lived long enough to know a few small steps don’t make for a whole journey.  But everything begins with small steps, and if I take enough of them, maybe I’ll finally get to where I want to be.’  


After replacing her journal, Natasha retrieved a diaper from the secret stash in her closet.  After she put it on, Natalie got her diary out from its equally secretive hidey-hole.  Unlike Natasha’s journal, Natalie’s diary was small and had a purple castle on the front, along with Natalie’s name and a heart-shaped lock.  Mommy had gotten it for her the day after they’d first met.  She opened it and with a purple inked pen began writing.  



Natalie’s Diary:

‘August 3, 2014 – Mommy bought me a new dress today!  She sent me the picture on my phone.  It’s light blue and puffy and has a lot of frills.  The dress, not the phone.  It’s really pretty and I can’t wait to try it on!  

Mommy also said she didn’t think the training pants were going to work.  Because I couldn’t keep them dry.  So it’s back to diapers for me.  She doesn’t know I made wets on purpose cause I don’t want stupid training pants.  It’s my little secret!

Only three days before I see Mommy again!  I can’t wait!  But I drew her a picture today so I’m going to send her a photo on my phone.  But I’ll still give her the real picture when I see her.

And now I got to go prove I really need my diapers.  Or Mommy might try and take them away again.’



After rehiding her diary, Natalie pulled the picture she’d drawn out from under the bed.  It was done in crayon, with a small, red-headed stick figure hugging a larger yellow-headed stick figure—and just to be naughty Natalie had included Mommy’s big Mommy bumps.  Natalie snapped a picture on her phone and sent it to Mommy.  She couldn’t wait to see what Mommy had to say about it.
Inspired by the picture <da:thumb id="399467301"> by :iconpink-diapers: 
© 2015 - 2024 Rdorlan1272
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Will you do another chapter?