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Thread: The Surrogate Baby (Story Complete 7-23-2012)

  1. #1
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    The Surrogate Baby (Story Complete 7-23-2012)

    I usually write on the DL side. This is my first AB story. It starts off a little dark and there is no diaper content until chapter three. I posted the first three chapters here. As always, feedback is appreciated.

    The Surrogate Baby

    by Write And Left

    Chapter One: My New Car

    "Beth, we bought you that car so you can get away from Peter and come home," my mother said over the phone. It was a pre-paid phone, the phone that Mother bought for me when she came to visit last week and saw how Peter treated me. I still think she overreacted to my two black eyes. It was my fault. Peter had found dust on the top of the refrigerator.

    "I can't today," I said. "It's only Thursday. Laundry day isn't until Tuesday and I have nothing to wear."

    "Your father and I don't care what you wear," my mother said. "Just throw something on."

    I thought of the heavy padlock Peter had put on my bedroom closet. I couldn't get to my clothes or my shoes. Even the clothes my dressers were locked away from me. Only the drawer with my negligees was unlocked. Peter didn't permit me clothing while he wasn't around. I did have a pair of my jeans and a t-shirt in the dirty clothes basket, but that too was locked in the closet. I would not have access to it until Tuesday when I was to wash Peter's and my clothes.

    "He locks the closet doors. I got to wait until Tuesday if I want to wear something besides lingerie on my great escape, Mother."

    "He has you running around the house in your underwear?" Mother's tone was angry.

    "Don't worry about it," I said. "I'll be home on Tuesday after I finish the laundry."

    "Fine, but don't tell him about the car."

    "I won't." I heard the front door rattle and quickly hung up and put the phone in its plastic bag and buried it in the flour canister on the kitchen counter.

    I did it just in time because Peter returned from work. "Is dinner ready?" he asked.

    "Almost," I said. I put on a weak smile. Mother's call had delayed me and Peter expected dinner to be ready immediately when he got home. I ran to the oven and pulled out the casserole I had started and put it on the table. I ran back to the cupboard and quickly opened a can of fruit and poured it in a serving dish. I put that on the table as well. "Dinner is ready now," I said.

    He didn't sit down. "When did I say dinner needed to be ready?" he asked.

    I looked down at my feet. "When you walk through the door," I said.

    "And it wasn't ready. Go get the belt."

    I turned and ran to the bedroom and got the thick leather belt that Peter punished me with when I did bad things. I held it in my hands and imagined what that belt would do to me. I then turned and slowly walked back to Peter and handed him the belt.

    "Assume the position."

    I unfastened my negligee and let I float to a pool around my ankles. After that I pulled down my panties and bent over. I closed my eyes and held my ankles as tight as I could. If I fell over while I was getting my beating, Peter wouldn't stop.

    "You delayed dinner by fifteen minutes," he said. He always calculated the time the spanking took with the actual delay. I heard the belt swish through the air and whack against my bared buttocks. I almost fell over and tried to get back into position. Two more spanks came and quick succession. One hit square on my bottom, but the other hit the back on my legs. I cried out with a shriek, but it did no good. I would get my fifteen licks no matter what I did.

    Four more spanks fell before I lost my balance. I fell forward, but tried to scramble back up. The beating didn't stop. I took the last eight spanks on the ground before he finally stopped.

    Through my tears, I watched him sit down at the table and start eating. I wanted to stay on the floor, but I knew I better stand by in case he asked for something. I didn't dare sit down and eat my meal because I was always banned from eating when I had a before meal spanking.

    "So, did you get all the other chores done today, or will we revisit the paddle," he asked.

    "I scrubbed the bathroom, and dusted and vacuumed the front two rooms."

    "Good," he said. "Go to our room and wait for me there." I knew that he was going to pretend for the rest of the day that he hadn't hit me. It was then that my cellphone rang.

    Peter stood up and followed the sound of my phone to its place in the flour container. Who could be calling me?, I thought. Only Mother had my phone number and she wouldn't call me because it would give me away. He dug into the flour and pulled out my phone. "What's this?" he asked. "Are you getting calls from a secret boyfriend?"

    He answered the phone and put it on speaker. To my horror, it was a man's voice. "Vote for me this November because your vote is important to us." I sighed with relief when I found it to be just a robocall for the election.

    He threw the phone at me and I dodged. The phone hit the kitchen floor and shattered. "Where did you get this phone?" he yelled. He picked up the flour canister and threw it at me as well. It grazed the side of my head and broke against the leg of the table. The plastic bag holding the car keys lay next to me and I tried to grab it before he saw it but it was too late.

    Pain radiated from my hand as he stomped on it so hard I had to let go of the keys. He kept kicking me harder and harder. Then he picked up the keys and then grabbed my face to look at him.

    "Where did you get the keys?" he asked.

    I had no choice but to tell the truth. "Mother left me a car to get away from you. She thinks you hurt me too much."

    He got a panicked look on his face for a moment. "I'm so mad at you, that I need to calm down. I am going to leave for a bit and when I come back, I will punish you in such a way that you will never leave. He took my keys and slammed the door.

    He was angry and he would be even worse when he came back drunk and the mess would infuriate him. I looked around to survey the mess, but blood started dripping into my eyes. My hand hurt bad as well. I still needed to clean up the mess, so I crawled toward the flour mess and collapsed.

    ###

    "Bang, bang, bang!" came a sound from the door. I must have blacked out but the banging woke me. There was a pool of blood on the floor. I was still naked from my beating and surrounded by spilled flour and broken pottery. I got up and tried to get to the door. I knew that Peter would apologize and take me to the hospital soon and I was feeling pretty dizzy when I stood. I tried to open the door, but my hand hurt so bad. It looked purple and swollen. I tried the other hand. It was even worse.

    "Bang, bang, bang!" I couldn't grip the doorknob. I heard yelling outside. "This is the police, we know you are in there?"

    The police were here? I had to hide. If they saw me like this then they might find out Peter had hit me and he would go to jail. I turned toward the kitchen to hide from them. Before I could find a hiding place, there was a crack as the wood splintered and two policemen entered the house. They saw the blood, the flour, the mess, and me.

    "Ma'am, are you all right?" the first cop said. "Just sit down." I knew better than to disobey. The second cop ran out of the house.

    "What happened?" he asked.

    "I fell down the stairs," I said.

    "That is bullshit," he answered.

    I just looked at him. I did not dare argue either.

    The second cop returned with a first aid kit. He pulled out some gauze and tried to pull it toward my head. I put my arms up to shield myself, but he bypassed them and started soaking up the bleeding on my head. "She needs stitches," he said.

    The first cop asked, "How did you get all the way back here? And where are your clothes."

    I was confused. "From the kitchen? I crawled."

    "How did you get all the way back here from the accident scene?" he asked.

    "Oh," I said. I almost slipped with my story about falling down the stairs. "I crawled up the stairs and accidentally knocked the flour over."

    "That is bullshit. We just came from the scene of the accident. Your boyfriend is dead. Your car is totaled and you are covered in blood."

    "What?" Peter was dead and my new car was totaled? "He didn't take my little Ford Fiesta?" I heard sirens in the distance and shivered. I was very cold all the sudden. It started getting dark. Not dark. I had just passed out.

    ###

    I woke up in a soft bed in a very bright hospital room. I looked down at myself. I wore only a hospital gown. Both my hands felt very heavy and I lifted my arms up to see why. Both hands were wrapped in plaster. I put them down on the bed and looked around the room.

    There was a TV in the corner, but it was off. I lay in a bed with rails on the sides. Beside me was a table with a button on the corner that looked like a doorbell. The walls were all white. To my left was a huge window, but the drapes were shut. On the right were windows, but they led into a hall. It was bright out there too.

    A nurse walked in. It was Patricia. I recognized her from the last time I was in the hospital. That time was from a broken arm. "Good," she said. "You are awake." She took my blood pressure and then looked at the top of my head. My head felt cold. "You poor thing," she said.

    "How bad is it this time?" I asked. I wondered if it was more than stitches and my hands.

    "You had big gashes in your head. The doctor had to give you a bit of a haircut before he could give you stitches. Your hands will take at least three months before we can get the casts off and then you will need some physical therapy."

    "You cut my hair?" Peter loved my long hair and wouldn't be happy if it were cut.

    She held a mirror for me. The doctor had completely shaved my head with clippers. An ugly black X from stitches crossed the top of my head. I looked hideous. I started to cry.

    "Don't worry, baby," the nurse said. "Your hair will grow back and cover the scar and no one will know."

    "But Peter will be angry," I wailed.

    "Peter died in the car wreck," she said. "Don't you remember? I say it serves him right. He was always beating you and then bringing you here."

    "I fell down the stairs," I said. "That's mean of you to tell me Peter died and that he deserved it."

    "Five times in the last year?" she asked.

    "Yes," I said. I knew she didn't believe me. None of the times in the hospital were from falling down the stairs.

    "Well, you better tell the cops the truth this time," said Patricia. "They think you were in that car with your boyfriend and that you fled the scene of an accident. That is pretty serious."

    I knew I was in big trouble.

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    The Surrogate Baby: Chapter Two: Nowhere to Go

    Chapter Two: Nowhere to Go

    Maybe I should have taken Patricia's advice. I stuck to my story about falling down the stairs and now I was being charged with leaving the scene of an accident. Also, Peter managed to run into some poor pregnant lady and she lost her baby. Since Peter was dead, they couldn't blame the person who was really responsible. Peter's mother blamed me because Peter would have never got into my car and drove it to the bar if I hadn't made him angry. I had felt guilty about that, but the councilors at the woman's shelter where I moved into after I got out of the hospital convinced me that it was not my fault. My own mother was upset with me about letting Peter know about the car and she changed her mind about me moving back home. I also had court that day. I had to face the woman whose baby Peter killed and convince her that I was not responsible.

    Today was also my last day at the shelter. My abuser, Peter, was no longer a threat to me since he was dead. I couldn't return home, and I couldn't go back to Peter's house. Peter's mother had inherited the house and told me that I was not allowed near the place ever again. I couldn't even get my clothes although it was only one pair of jeans, a few T-shirts, and lots of lingerie.

    I slid off the sweats I wore daily. There were the only things I could pull up and down so I could go to the bathroom. I looked down at the bed and the pantsuit I found in the professional interview closet they had at the shelter. My roommate Amy helped get me ready. I looked in the mirror. I looked terrible, but at least my hair was starting to grow. It was about an inch long and the scars were almost covered by my hair. Less than satisfied, I took the bus to court.

    ###

    There were two transfers from the woman's shelter to the courthouse. I had to drag my duffle with everything I owned in it. By the time I got to the courthouse, I had just enough time to get to the bathroom and pee before court. I entered the first lady's room and then I knew I was in trouble.

    I had to pee so bad and all I could do was stand in front of the toilet and cry. The zipper on the suit pants was on the side, so I couldn't reach it with both hands when they were in the casts. My broken fingers were held immobile by the plaster and I knew I would wet my pants any second. I crossed my legs and started to cry.

    "What's wrong?" a woman asked me.

    "I got to be in court in five minutes and I got to pee. I can't get my pants undone."

    "Would you like me to help you?" asked the woman.

    I crossed my legs tighter and rocked from side to side. "Please help me before I wet my pants."

    She gently undid my pants and pulled down both my pants and my panties. I quickly sat down and started peeing almost as soon as I landed. A second later and I would have been walking into my court appearance with wet pants. I wondered how I would get my pants back up. I need not have worried. The lady was still outside the stall when I came out. "Um," I said.

    "Sit back down," she said. She took some toilet paper and helped me wipe. I had been going around with damp panties since I got out of the hospital because I couldn't wipe very well with my broken hands. "Stand now," she said. I did and she pulled up my panties and pants. "My name is Violet," she said. "I know from experience that wet pants aren't very much fun. When I was pregnant, I had to resort to diapers."

    "Oh my goodness," I said. "Was it that bad?"

    "It's not that bad," said Violet. She had sadness in her eyes.

    "Well, thank you," I said. "I got to run and get to court."

    ###

    Whoever said, ninety percent of success is being there never was in court. I was grilled cross examined and then yelled at by a judge and sever lawyers. I was also told that I was worthless and deserved to go to jail. I was used to being told I was worthless though. Peter made that clear to me.

    Then Violet entered the courtroom and took the stand. What was she doing? "So can you tell us what happened?"

    "I was in my car driving on Beaumont Ave and this car came from nowhere and crossed the centerline and hit me. My airbag when out and then…," she said and then paused. "It hit my abdomen and I lost…" She paused again. "…I lost my baby." She started to cry.

    "No further questions," said the prosecutor.

    My lawyer went to the stand and asked her the most intelligent question of his career. "How many people did you see in the car?"

    "I don't know," she said. "It was too dark."

    "You didn't see anyone get out of the car?"

    "No," she said.

    "I have no more questions, ma'am. You may step down."

    Finally it was my turn to speak. I got up and went to the stand. Violet made eye contact with me and gave me a dirty look. I was nervous up on the stand. I had to pee really bad all the sudden. I was about to pee myself, I was so scared. However, my lawyer just asked me to say what happened. I am happy to say that I told the truth.

    "…And I woke up and the cops were pounding on my door," I said.

    "So you didn't leave the accident?"

    "No, sir."

    "You weren't even at the accident?"

    "No sir,"

    "No further questions."

    I started to get up.

    "I am going to cross examine you," said the opposing lawyer. "We found your blood in the car. Do you care to explain that?"

    "He kicked me in the head before he left."

    "Sure. So where did you get those injuries. You had head trama."

    "The flour canister," I said. "He threw a flour canister at me."

    "That sounds pretty violent. Strange that your boyfriend didn't have a record of battering women."

    "Because it was my fault he hit me. I didn't do what I was supposed to do and had to be punished. That's why I couldn't say anything. If I did he would go to jail and I would have no one."

    "She knows the right words to say. Of course she did because she lived in a woman's shelter the past few months," said the prosecuter. "You may step down now," he told me.

    I retreated back to the table and sat down." That didn't go as well as I planned. It went worse when the jury came back with a verdict. I was found guilty of leaving the scene of an accident. I sat there and cried. I couldn't go to jail. I didn't know what to do.

    "Relax," said my lawyer. "You might only get probation and have to pay restitution."

    I looked up at the judge. "Two years probation and twenty-five thousand in restitution to your victims," he said. "You need to have a job, a play to live, and make progress on paying your restitution or else I will put you in jail for the full six years of your sentence."

    I had nothing. No job or income and as of tonight I was homeless. I couldn't pay the restitution no matter if it were twenty-five dollars or twenty-five million. I continued to cry and just left the courtroom. I had to pee really bad, but I had no one to help me with my zipper, so I just left to walk as far as I could.

    I didn't make it far. The urge to pee got worse and worse. Everything seemed closed. I was going to have to find a place soon. I felt some dribble into my panties. It wouldn't be long now. I tried to get into and ally and then I went for the zipper. No luck. I couldn't get my plaster covered fingers to grip the zipper hard enough so it wouldn't slip when I pulled it down. Suddenly I started peeing. It was broad daylight and I was peeing my pants in public. The gray material of my pants was getting darker around my crotch and now my inseams. I peed until I was empty. I was so embarrassed. However, I had to leave the ally to find a bathroom and change. I still had sweats in my duffle bag. I left the ally and started to walk. It was obvious that I peed my pants.

    A car stopped beside me. It was a blue Mercedes. The passenger side window came down and there was Violet, the lady whose baby Peter had killed with my car. "Do you need a ride?" she asked.

    "No," I said.

    "You look like you had an accident," she said.

    "I did," I said.

    "Climb in the backseat and we will give you a ride," said Violet.

    I had no choice. I got in and sat on a towel they had on the seat. "For what it's worth, I am sorry the Peter hurt your family in the accident. I would do anything to make it up if I could."

    "Anything?" asked Violet.

    "Well, yes," she said.

    "Your lawyer said you had no income and can't work for a few more month before the physical therapy can begin. We though you could make up what you own us by being a live-in maid for us."

    "I guess," I said.

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    The Surrogate Baby: Chapter Three: A Change in Living Arrangements

    Chapter Three: A Change in Living Arrangements

    Violet and her husband Jeff lived in a large house in a nice neighborhood. I blushed as I saw ever yard almost with people in it. How was I going to get in their house with my wet pants?

    I didn't worry long. They pulled into the garage. Violet and Jeff got out and Violet opened my door. I stepped out as well. There garage was beautiful as well. Jeff went in the house, but Violet stopped me.

    "Take off your wet shoes. I am going to get you undressed and then we can get you a bath. You are pretty smelly," she said.

    Of course I was smelly. I couldn't shower well. I couldn't even wipe myself. I was disgusting. I slipped off my shoes and then she undressed my completely before taking me in the house. She not only threw away everything I had on, but she emptied the contents of my duffle bag in a trashcan in the garage.

    "Hey," I protested.

    "Those disgusting sweats and grayed t-shirts and underclothes can go away. I will not have you dressed like a homeless person. She then pulled me by the hand into the bathroom. She sat me on the toilet and left me.

    I took advantage of the time by using the bathroom. I thought I had privacy until she came back with two bread bags. She put those on my arms so my casts wouldn't get wet and then she started a bath for me. She set me in the water and I lay back. "Thank you for everything," I said.

    "Well, you really need to be clean. I don't think you can care for yourself adequately when you are so disheveled." It was true. When I showered at the woman's shelter, I could wash my body with bags over my hands. I couldn't hold the soap well either. My hair suffered. Here, I just lay back in the bath and soaked.

    She let me lay in there for a while and then brought a washcloth and started scrubbing me as if I were a baby. It was pretty embarrassing. "Hey. What are you doing?"

    "I am cleaning you."

    "You are treating me like a baby," I said.

    She stood up and turned away. "Thanks to your boyfriend, I can't treat my baby like a baby," she said with a sob.

    "I'm sorry," I said. She took me in. I should be grateful and not complain. "You may treat me like a baby if you want to."

    "Really?" she said. "Do you mean it? I'd like that so much."

    She finished soaping me. Then she rinsed me off. "Your hair is so short," she said. "It's almost is baby length."

    "The doctor cut it for stitches," I said. "I had beautiful long hair before." I stopped. "Well before."

    "It's pretty and blonde," she said. "I think my baby would have had blonde hair." She lifted me into a standing position and helped me out of the tub. "Let's get you dried off."

    I let her dry me, then she left me standing there in the bathroom. She returned a short while later carrying something white and plastic.

    "Lie down on the floor so I can diaper you," she said.

    "What?" I asked. "I'm not wearing diapers." Sure I wet myself today, but that was an accident.

    She looked disappointed and I saw a tear running down her cheek. "But you said I could baby you. You also promised you would do whatever you could to make up for me losing my baby."

    I sighed. I didn't think she meant that. "Fine," I said and lay down on the floor. My face felt hot as I lay down and submitted to a diaper change. As soon as it was over I stood up. She put a pink T-shirt on me and then led me down the hall.

    I thought I was going to bed, but I was wrong. She sat me on the couch next to her husband Jeff and left the room. "I'm going to make dinner now. Take care of our guest," she said.

    I looked at her husband and he looked at me. He seemed as embarrassed as I was. My t-shirt was long enough to hide the diaper, but I had no pants. I was mortified.

    Jeff looked at me. "Are you wearing pants?"

    I shook my head. "Violet dumped all my clothes in the trash. She said they were disgusting."

    "She'll get something for you to wear tomorrow then," he said. He handed her a blanket from the back of the couch. "I bet you are cold."

    I wasn't but I took the blanket anyway and covered up. He was probably saving face. I was glad to be have something to cover me if the t-shirt rode up.

    ###

    After the ten o'clock news, Violet took me up to my new bedroom. We had eaten in front of the TV before hand and I was tired from my long day.

    I stood up and we went upstairs together. "I have to go to the bathroom," I announced.

    "Is your diaper wet?" she asked. She reached under my t-shirt to check.

    "No," I said as I jumped away. "It will be soon if I don't get to a bathroom."

    "You said you'd be my baby," she said. "Babies wet their diapers. They don't announce that they have to use the bathroom."

    "But…," I said.

    "You promised to let my take care of you," she said. "If it weren't for your boyfriend wrecking your car, I would have a baby I could change."

    I crossed my legs and gave her a pleading look.

    "I'm going to put you to bed when I take you to your room. When I do so, I am going to check your diaper. If it is wet, then I will change you. If not, then I guess you can wait until morning."

    I was stubborn and held it. She took me to the room she picked out for me. It was a baby's nursery complete with changing table, crib, and mobile. She put down the rail of the crib. Climb in," she said.

    "It's a baby crib," I protested. "I'm too big."

    "Nonsense," she said. "You at most weigh 115 pounds. Get in."

    I climbed in and she pulled the rail up. "There is no pillow and blanket in here," I complained.

    "I'll get them for you. Don't leave the crib."

    I lay back and stared at the mobile. This was ridicules. How did I get myself in this situation?

    She returned with an adult sized pillow and blanket. I curled up with them. "Are you sure you don't want to wet your diaper before bedtime? I will change you and you can get a good night's sleep."

    "I'm not going to wet a diaper for you," I said.

    "Would you like a nightlight?" she asked.

    "No," I said.

    She left. I rolled over and tried to go to sleep. After an hour, I woke up with an urgent need to pee. I tried to pull down the rail, but my casts prevented it. Instead, I slowly wet my diaper. It felt very warm and it tickled against my skin. It almost felt pleasant, but I would never admit that. I struggled to get to sleep and didn't wake up until the sun streamed through my windows.

  4. #4
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    Re: The Surrogate Baby

    This is pretty good my only suggestion is try to stay in the same point of view (a couple times u referred to the main character as her instead of I)
    I do what I love and love what I do

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    Re: The Surrogate Baby

    On the objective side, you're blurring criminal and civil cases. If they're trying her for leaving the scene, that's a criminal matter and she was found guilty; there's no money involved. If she's sued, that's a civil matter, she'd be the defendant, and the finding was for $25,000 for the plaintiff, and no finding of guilt. (Sorry, my boyfriend is a lawyer, and we watch too many legal shows like Boston Legal and The Practice.) But that can probably slide.

    On a more subjective note, I don't really buy the police & DA being this aggressive about leaving the scene. Even if she was there, she wasn't the driver. And she's clearly got head trauma when they find her, so it's arguably confusion/disorientation from a concussion. Who's that much of a bastard? And when they want her to get dressed so they can take her to the hospital, don't they notice something's up that all her clothes are padlocked and inaccessible?

    Chapter 3… So far, so good after the scenario is set up.

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    Re: The Surrogate Baby

    Well, I see what you mean, but I didn't want to spend half the story on court procedures. I probably should have just had a civil case and referred to the past criminal case. I was just lazy at writing it though. As for the police being aggressive, I can share with you a whole lot of stories. They really should have been able to tell that her clothes were locked up.

    However, this is a AB diaper story and we are not going going to get realistic. I'm sorry, but diaper stories, especially AB, ones are not really written with realism in mind. I will post Chapter 4 as soon as I can where she is going to be taken shopping in diapers. That is probably not too realistic, but at least she is not going to ride in an oversized stroller and be taken to a secret AB store in the mall.

    Quote Originally Posted by Peri link=topic=4183.msg43386#msg43386 date=1291241426
    On the objective side, you're blurring criminal and civil cases. If they're trying her for leaving the scene, that's a criminal matter and she was found guilty; there's no money involved. If she's sued, that's a civil matter, she'd be the defendant, and the finding was for $25,000 for the plaintiff, and no finding of guilt. (Sorry, my boyfriend is a lawyer, and we watch too many legal shows like Boston Legal and The Practice.) But that can probably slide.

    On a more subjective note, I don't really buy the police & DA being this aggressive about leaving the scene. Even if she was there, she wasn't the driver. And she's clearly got head trauma when they find her, so it's arguably confusion/disorientation from a concussion. Who's that much of a bastard? And when they want her to get dressed so they can take her to the hospital, don't they notice something's up that all her clothes are padlocked and inaccessible?

    Chapter 3… So far, so good after the scenario is set up.

  7. #7
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    Re: The Surrogate Baby

    I liked it

    Although the few mistakes in it did detracted from the story.

    I will be looking forward to seeing more.
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    Re: The Surrogate Baby

    Quote Originally Posted by WriteAndLeft link=topic=4183.msg43394#msg43394 date=1291253471
    That is probably not too realistic, but at least she is not going to ride in an oversized stroller and be taken to a secret AB store in the mall.
    I wish they'd be a little less secretive about those secret AB stories. In all the malls I've been in in my life, I have yet to find a one of them. Maybe they should have the people in charge of those stores be in charge of the State Department's cables.

  9. #9
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    The Surrogate Baby: Chapter 4: Going Out Dressed Like This

    CHAPTER FOUR: GOING OUT DRESSED LIKE THIS

    I woke up, lying in a puddle. I was soaking wet and my diaper had leaked. I sighed and then tried to sit up. Since it was light, I could see how the mechanism on the rail of the crib worked. However, I couldn't get my fingers around the latch. "Damn casts," I muttered. I looked around. There was a clock on the wall over the door. "Eight-thirty." I hoped the clock was right. "Violet," I called.

    Nothing. I did hear some stirring in the next room, but it didn't sound like they were coming into my bedroom or rather nursery. I looked down at the diaper. It swelled to become three times as thick and the white looked yellowish and grainy. The blue stripes were missing except for at the top of my waist. My t-shirt was wet around the bottom and up my back. I was uncomfortable.

    "Violet," I called again. "I am uncomfortable."

    Violet entered the room from the other room. She was only wearing a robe. "You don't have to yell. I can hear you over the baby monitor. Besides, babies yell out mommy or cry."

    "I am not calling you mommy," I said.

    "Then you can sit in the wet diaper until I decide to come in on my own or you can cry." She turned and left.

    I sat there, but I was stubborn. I wasn't going to call that woman mommy. After sitting in the wet diaper for about twenty minutes, I noticed how cold and clammy it was. I finally gave in and started to cry like a baby. "Wah, wah," I said into the baby monitor. "Wah, wah."

    Violet entered the room again. This time she was dressed in jeans and a t-shirt. She smiled.

    "Wah, wah," I said.

    "That cry doesn't sound too convincing."

    "This is the best you are going to get," I said.

    "Well, it's a start." She lowered the crib rail and helped me out. "It looks like you need some clothes, Baby Beth." She looked into the crib and saw the wet spot. "And better diapers. Never fear about that. I found a medical supply store on Google. We can go there after your bath." Oh great. I was going to get better diapers, so this meant I was stuck with them.

    I needed a bath, so I didn't argue. Followed her to the bathroom and stood there and let her do what she wanted to me. She first put the bread bags on my casts and pulled off my diaper and t-shirt. Then she sat me down in the tub.

    "So how long are you going to treat me like a baby?" I asked.

    "As long as you are staying with us," she said, "unless you want to work as a maid and keep the house spotless? Until those casts come off though, you will not make an effective maid and I will let your probation officer know how badly you work. So which is it: be my baby or my maid?"

    I didn't relish the idea of wearing diapers and sleeping in a crib, but I liked the idea less of cleaning the house. When I lived with Peter, I was effectively a maid and I got beaten a lot. I would hate that. At least as a baby, I wasn't beaten. "I'll be your baby, then," I said.

    She started to scrub me and then stopped. "I almost forgot," she said. She turned and opened that bathroom cabinet and pulled out a rubber duck and a toy boat. "I have bath toys." She put them in the water and started scrubbing me. I ignored the toys and concentrated on where she was rubbing me with the wash cloth.

    "Play with the toys," she said.

    I waved my bread bag covered hands at her. "I can't really hold onto things." She gave me her disappointed look, so I added. "Much like a real baby, I can't hold stuff."

    That seemed to satisfy her. "Well, thanks for accepting this. I know I originally wanted you as a maid because I haven't been able to keep up the house since the accident. I just lay in bed all day since I was so depressed. Treating you like a baby is better than having a maid. I have to get out of bed to care for you and a maid would just let me sleep in and clean rooms I would never look at." She rubbed shampoo in my short, fuzzy hair and then rinsed it out by pouring water on my head from a Tupperware pitcher. I remember my mother did that when I was little.

    "I will try to be your baby then. It is the least I can do." I didn't mind wetting the diaper that much. I was being a brat last night, but I was embarrassed.

    She drained the tub and told me to stand up. I did and she dried me off and then brushed my hair. "I wish your hair was longer. I would put pigtails in it," she said.

    "No way," I said. "I am not wearing pig tails."

    "Well lie down, so I can get your diaper on you."

    I lay down on the floor. I felt stupid as she diapered me. She had me lift up my butt and she slid the clean diaper under me. Then I felt something cold and slimy against my butt. I sat up and batted at her with my right arm. "What was that?" I asked.

    She held up a plastic jar for me to read. "It's Desitin. It's for diaper rash. Going to bed with a full bladder was not a good idea and you are starting to get a bit red." She pushed me back down. "Now let me finish diapering you." She rubbed the slimy cream on my butt and then sprinkled powder on me before taping me in my diaper. I smelled like a baby.

    She pulled me to my feet. "You don't have your own clothes, so you will have to wear mine today," she said. She took me by the arm into her bedroom. I had never seen it before. There was a queen-sized bed with throw pillows and shams all over it like you would see in a catalogue for bedding. There was a large dresser with a mirror and a chest of drawers. There were also two large walk-in closets. She first opened the dresser and pulled out a t-shirt. It was red with pink hearts on it. It was also a short baby doll shirt. "Lift your arms."

    I did and she pulled the shirt on me. "There you go," she said as she pulled in on. The shirt barely covered the top of my diaper. I sighed. At least no one would see my diaper in the house except her. By the time I looked up again, she had a pair of blue jeans. With her help I stepped into them. She was a larger size than I, but the diaper made me need that much room.

    I spun around in front of the room and couldn't see the diaper, but there was an obvious bulge. I was not happy about that. The shirt came an inch or two below the waist of the jeans. At least I had that working for me. There was something missing though. "Shouldn't I wear a bra?" I asked.

    "You don't need a bra," she said.

    I looked down at my chest and sighed. The shirt was fitted, so I could see the shape of my breasts in the mirror, but they weren't really ample. I sighed. With a bra, I looked like I had bigger breasts.

    "Sit down and I will find you some shoes," she said. I sat down on a cedar chest at the end of the bed and sighed. At least I was getting shoes. I wondered what happened to the Goodwill shoes from my duffle bag or even the scuffed dress shoes I wore to court. I bet they were both thrown away with my other clothes.

    She returned with some sneakers. "I noticed you were size six," she said. "I wore these once and then I got pregnant and my feet swelled to a size eight." She put some blue socks on me and then pulled on the pink sneakers one by one and tied them. "Walk around then."

    I stood up and took a few steps. "They fit great. Thank you."

    "Well, don't thank me yet. We need to go to the store to get you suitable clothes. You can't wear my clothes all the time."

    I looked down at my crotch. The bulge was staring back at me. "Um," I said. "Can you please get me baggy pants at the store?"

    "You can come with me shopping to get them," she said.

    "But everyone will see I am diapered," I said.

    "So what? Babies don't worry about someone seeing them diapered."

    "But people expect to see a diaper on a baby, not a twenty-two year old woman," I said.

    "No one will notice anyway," she said. "No one said anything when I wore diapers when I was pregnant. If someone says anything, we'll just give them a cover story." She picked up a bag and put it on my shoulder and took me by the arm toward the garage.

    "What's with the big bag?" I asked.

    "It's your diaper bag in case you need a change while we are out."

    "But," I started. She wouldn't listen to me. I prepared for an embarrassing day as we went to the garage and put me in the passenger seat of her Volvo.

    ###

    She didn't drive directly to the mall. Instead she drove out by the hospitals which were across the freeway from the courthouse. She pulled into the parking lot of a small store and came around to let me out of the car. The place said Sander's Medical Supply.

    "What are we getting here?" I asked.

    "It would be in your best interest to remain quiet when we are in here and let me do all the talking." She opened the door and we went in.

    Inside there were rows of wheel chairs, oxygen tanks, hospital beds, and angry rows of shelves that went into the dark recesses of the store. One section said catheters. I knew what those were from the hospital. I shivered. I never wanted to experience a catheter again.

    "May I help you ladies?" an older woman asked. She wore light blue smocks. She smiled at Violet.

    "Yes," Violet said. "I need some adult diapers for my niece here." She put her hand on my shoulder. "We've been using Depends and they don't hold up to her wettings well."

    I wanted to disappear into the floor. I wished it would have swallowed me up so I would be here to face the embarrassment.

    "Carlos," the older woman called. A handsome man appeared. He looked like he was about twenty-four. He was strong and handsome and his biceps seemed barely contained by the sleeves of his smock. I was in love. I forgot about being in diapers I wanted him to hold me in his arms. He looked almost like Brad Pitt and…

    Violet rubbed a Kleenex across my mouth. "You are drooling again Beth." I was mortified.

    Carlos smiled at me. "How are you doing?"

    Violet turned toward Carlos. "She was in a car accident a few months ago and suffered a head injury." She parted my hair and showed them the scar from my stitches. "She suffered some brain damage and we need adult diapers for her."

    His smile disappeared. I purposely let out some more drool, but I was upset. He looked like he was interested in me until he heard I was brain damaged and needed diapers. I knew why Violet lied to him. It would be silly to tell them I agreed to be her baby to make up for the real baby she lost when my boyfriend stole my car.

    The old lady took a measuring tape and put it around my hips. I backed up and clung to Violet's arm like a scared toddler.

    "It's all right," said Violet. "She is just going to measure you."

    I let myself be measured, but I hated what I was being measured for. As soon as she had a number she turned to Carlos. "Please bring two cases of medium-sized Tranquility ATN Briefs."

    He disappeared. I wanted to ask her what ATN stood for, but that would blow my cover as a retard. I clung to Violet instead.

    "She is actually between small and medium, but I find that the larger size absorbs a bit more," the lady said. "We do have individual diapers if you want to change her into one now and see how it fits."

    "That sound like a good idea," said Violet. The woman reached under the counter and handed her a diaper that looked huge next to the Depends she had on.

    "Let's get you changed, Beth," she said.

    I was embarrassed enough and now she was going to change me in front of all these people. I got on the floor and closed my eyes.

    To my surprise, Violet pulled me to my feet. "Not here, Beth. I am sure this nice lady has somewhere private we can change." She turned toward the lady again. "We change her on the floor at home, so I guess that is why she did that."

    "I understand," said the lady. "You can go to the bathroom through there." She pointed to a hall. "There are adult sized changing tables in there."

    I felt relieved. Carlos came down the stairs from the upper tiers of shelves carrying the two cases of diapers. Violet pulled me down the hall to the bathroom.

    It was a normal bathroom, but there was a counter in one corner with padding like someone laid a mat that kindergarteners took naps on on top of it. I laid on the mat and Violet started undoing my pants and then she took my diaper off. I had to pee a bit and felt like letting go like a real baby would, but I decided not to. She had tried to minimize my embarrassment in what was supposed to be an embarrassing transaction. She pulled the new diaper on me and taped it up.

    "There are only four tapes," I said. "That other diaper had six."

    "It's a different brand," she said. She taped the diaper in place and tried to pull my pants up. "Well it fits you. Stand up so I can get your pants pulled up."

    I stood and she tugged the pants up. This diaper was much thicker and she had trouble getting my zipper up and my pants buttoned. The bulge was a lot bigger. "I can't go out like this," I complained. "Can you get one of the spares from my diaper bag and change me into that?"

    Violet shook her head. "We are shopping for clothes for you next. I only have the two Depends in your diaper bag left. You need clothes that fit over these diapers so you got to wear these."

    It made sense, but I was still going to be embarrassed. "Fine, but you need to change me into the new pants as soon as we buy the first outfit."

    "It's a deal. Now no talking or they will know you are not really incontinent." She led me back out into the showroom. "It fits her fine. It's a little snug under her clothes, but at least she will keep her pants dry."

    Carlos gave me a weird look at my puffy crotch. I looked like I had a diaper on. How did I get into this? I still stared at him as Violet and the lady concluded their transaction. I pretended to be fascinated by his watch and grabbed at it so I could touch his hand. He frowned and then held me by the shoulders until Violet finished paying.

    "What did the doctor's say about the brain damage?" he asked.

    "She's just has the mind of a three year old," said Violet. She took me by the upper arm. "We are hoping that she heals. The brain does rewire around damage, but the doctor said that might take years. She just needs a home right now and that is what I am trying to provide her. Her father is in prison and her mother died, so she just has me."

    "At least you are hopeful," Carlos said. He leaned down and picked up the two cases of diapers and followed them to Violet's Volvo. He put them both in the back and went back inside.

    Violet helped me into the passenger seat and then got into the car. "What was that about you grabbing at the young man's wrist?"

    "You wanted me to act like a baby. I acted like a baby," I said.

    "You liked him," she said.

    "Duh," I said. "However, I can't ever date him because he thinks that I am retarded."

    "Not retarded. You are brain damaged from an accident."

    I shrugged. It's not that it made much of a difference. I wasn't going to be dating anyone soon. I still was healing from the injuries my last boyfriend gave me.

    She drove me to the mall parking lot. The lot was packed with cars and I just knew that inside it would be equally busy. She came around to the other side of the car and opened the door for me. Then she went to the back of the car and opened one of the cases of diapers and put two in my diaper bag. She stuffed the two Depends in the case with the new diapers.

    "Come on," she said. "Let's go shopping."

    I looked at my reflection in the car window and noticed how puffy my butt was. "Please, don't make me go in dressed like this."

    She looked at me with a stern look. "I thought we had a deal. Besides, don't you want something to wear that will cover your diapers?"

    I frowned. I didn't want to go in. I used to shop at this mall back when I was in college. I hadn't been there in the three years I lived with Peter. I couldn't shop when I was his kept woman. Perhaps I wouldn't see anyone I knew. I shrugged and then let her take me by the arm above my cast and guide me into the mall.

    It sure was crowded and I was nervous about anyone noticing that the big bulge inside my pants was a thick diaper. I was starting to need to pee as well. I hadn't peed yet when I woke up since I was used to holding it until I got to a toilet. That part of my life was skipped over in the rush to go shopping and I hadn't thought of peeing. I was in the mall and had to pee and I knew the toilets were on the far side of the mall.

    "We need to head to the restrooms," I whispered. "I need to pee."

    "You are wearing your bathroom," she said. "Babies don't say they have to pee. They just pee. That's why you are wearing a diaper."

    I sighed. "I'll try to hold it until we get home."

    "Suit yourself," she said.

    We walked into the first store and she picked out some clothes for me. She held up various items to me and smiled. "This looks good," she said.

    "I can't button that with these casts on," I said.

    "Nonsense," she said. "I will help you."

    I had to pee more. I tried crossing my legs, but the diapers I wore were too thick and I could close my legs enough to do any good. I tried to pretend I was anywhere, but where I was.

    "Can I help you ladies?" the sales person asked.

    "Yes," said Violet. "My niece here needs to try on some things. She broke her arms, so can I please accompany her into the fitting rooms to help her?"

    "Well, we normally just want one at a time in the fitting rooms due to shoplifters, but I guess it will be okay since she can try on things herself." The sales girl turned to me. "I bet that sucks. I broke my legs in June and had to be in a wheel chair for a month. I could still write and do schoolwork though."

    I didn't answer. I was paying more attention to keeping my pants dry. However, Violet spoke for me. "She doesn't talk."

    I felt some wetness leak from my vagina. I was going to wet myself. I held on tight. If I walked or took a step, I was going to have an accident.

    "Right this way to the fitting room," said the sales girl. I just stood there trying not to pee. Violet pulled me to follow and I stumbled a step and a big wet squirt came out. If I wasn't wearing a diaper, there would have been a wet spot. "Come on," she said and pulled me again.

    I gasped and then the flood gates opened and I peed myself. I just looked down at myself. The pee wouldn't stop until my bladder was empty no matter how hard I tried to clamp down. Finally, I was in a warm, wet diaper and managed to follow Violet to the fitting room.

    As soon as the door was closed, she undid my pants and pulled them down. She put her hand in my diaper. "You wet, didn't you?"

    I didn't say anything. I did push my diaper bag at her.

    "No, you're not wet enough for a change. Now lift up your arms and we'll try these shirts." I lifted my arms and let her try on about twelve shirts on me. Then she took off my shoes and had me try on the pants and skirts she picked out. She picked up some light blue plaid overalls and held them open near the floor. "Step in," she said.

    "I don't like those," I said.

    "I do," she said. "They will make you look so cute."

    I shrugged. "It's just not my style," I said.

    She gave me that look: the look that said I was disappointing her. Still, I couldn't cave that easily. "Doesn't my opinion count?" I asked.

    "Beth," she said, "a baby can't complain about what clothes she wears. Did you always complain about your clothing?"

    I thought about it. The overalls did look stupid and I would be embarrassed to wear them in public, but I didn't try to kid myself that they weren't an improvement over silk negligees. I could wear these in public. Sure Violet controlled my life as much as Peter did, but at least she never beat me. I stepped into the overalls and she pulled them up.

    "Now if only you had enough hair for pigtails you would be adorable," she said and brushed the fuzziness on the side of my head.

    I tried not to wince. "You are tugging my stitches," I complained.

    "Oh, sorry," she said. She turned me toward the mirror and I looked at myself. The outfit made me look younger. The small boobs I had disappeared behind the bib of the overalls and the outfit did nothing to accentuate the curvature of my hips. My hair also looked like a baby's. It was too short. Only the trim of the shirt suggested I was a girl. "Now you do look cute," she said. "We do got to do something about that hair though. We'll go to Claire's next."

    I groaned. In high school all my friends went to Claire's. I was always bored. If I wanted something feminine, I went to Hot Topic and got retro cartoon stuff, not earrings and hair doodads. Peter cured me of my grunge look, but I didn't count on the pole dancing look until he already isolated me at home.

    She dressed me in what I was wearing before and I looked down to make sure the diaper was hidden. It was, but the bulge felt huge. It expanded when I peed myself. I looked down expecting it to be huge. It wouldn't be noticeable unless someone walked the mall looking at the butts of every woman to check for evidence of diapers. I didn't think anyone would do that.

    We left the dressing room and Violet put everything on the counter.

    "All of it?" the sales girl asked. She started to ring up the purchases. "My commission's going to be great thanks to you guys. If there is anything else you need just ask for Elsie. I will come in on my day off to help you."

    I smiled at her. She sounded nice. I couldn't thank her without blowing my cover, but Violet did thank her. After we paid for the purchases, we left the store.

    "Where to next?" I asked. I tried to walk slowly to avoid having my shirt ride up or something embarrassing, but she was guiding me quickly by my arm.

    "Claire's," she said.

    We went inside and it was packed with teen girls. I sighed. That was another reason I hated the place. I was an adult, not a teenager. I looked down at the bulge of my diaper. I felt like a toddler, but teenagers still annoyed me.

    As soon as we walked in, a sales clerk bypassed all the teenagers, who were probably not going to buy anything. "Can I help you ladies?"

    "Yes," said Violet. "I need some headbands for my niece. She had surgery and they had to cut her hair."

    "Oh, I am sorry. I hope you get better," she said to me.

    I forgot and nodded. "Thank you."

    Violet glared at me, but shrugged.

    "Our headbands are right here." She guided us to a rack in one corner of the store and then went back to keep an eye on the teenagers.

    "I thought you weren't talking," Violet scolded me.

    "I forgot." I reached for a head band. It was a black elastic headband with a black rose made out of the same material. "I like this one," I said.

    She took it and several others that she liked and we went to check out. I was sure glad to be out of there. When we got out of the store, I asked her to put one of the headbands on me. I missed having long hair and the bit of fuzz on my head depressed me. I thought it made me look like a boy.

    She didn't pick my black one that I liked. She picked a red one with a pink heart on it. It matched my shirt, but still, I hated it. The black one was feminine, but much more subdued. Next we went to the food court.

    "Where shall we eat?" asked Violet.

    I looked around. There was a Sbarro's pizza, a Subway, a Coldstone Creamery, a Chick-Fil-A, and even a Burger King, and a Carl's Jr. I hadn't eaten out in a long time. Once I moved in with Peter, he never took me out and I could only afford the food at the woman's shelter cafeteria, so never could eat out then.

    "Coldstone?" I asked.

    "It's eleven-thirty in the morning and you need real food, not dessert."

    I looked around. The pizza looked inviting, but I didn't want that. I never did like Subway since I had saved up my stamps for a new sandwich and they suddenly stopped accepting stamps. That made me mad. At the Carl Jr. there was a sign for a monstrous burger with jalapenos and a third pound patty. I pointed and said, "I want that."

    "Are you sure you don't want a kid's meal from Burger King?" she asked.

    "I'm sure. I want the Six Dollar Burger with jalapenos." I knew what I wanted. I hadn't had a good restaurant meal in three years. I wanted something good. I didn't think about the fact that it would end up in my diaper and that I would regret everyone of those jalapenos.

    "Okay," she said. She ordered and we sat down. Then I had another problem. I had casts on my arms and couldn't hang onto stuff really well. I sat and stared at the yummy burger sitting in front of me, the curly fries, again too spicy to eat before you sit in the resulting messy diaper. However I am getting ahead of myself here. I couldn't lift the burger to my mouth.

    "May I have some help?" I asked.

    She sat across from me and she had the same thing. She giggled at me and then continued to eat her sandwich. I had to rely on my thumb and forefinger on my left hand to pick up one curly fry at a time. Between each bite of fry I ate, I stared hungrily at my burger until Violet finished hers. As soon as she was done, she picked up my burger and held it for me. I took a grateful bite and then savored the wonderful feeling of the food. I felt the spice of jalapenos and I knew I was in heaven. She fed me bite after bite until the sandwich was done and the burning in my mouth increased.

    Of course, I didn't look as wonderful as I felt. The sandwich is too big for my mouth and even though Violet held the sandwich still, I got a lot of the special sauce on my mouth. Violet smiled and then she did something embarrassing. She took my diaper bag and pulled out a container of wipes, and then proceeded to clean my face and hands. I was humiliated. I looked around to see if anyone noticed the diaper peaking out of the duffle bag, but no one did. They did notice me getting my face cleaned like a toddler though. A guy across the dining room snickered. I wanted to sink into the floor.

    I also needed to pee. The thirty-two ounces of Dr. Pepper really hit me hard. I knew Violet would never take me to the bathroom no matter how I argued and I did feel a bit uncomfortable, so I relaxed and peed. When I start peeing, I can't stop until I am empty. My mother used to tell me that is unhealthy, but I really never let it bother me. However I tried to stop as soon as I felt wetness at the leg bands of my diaper.

    "Violet," I whispered, "you got to take me to the bathroom now."

    "Use your diaper," she whispered back.

    "I just did and there will be a wet spot on my pants real quick if you don't take me to the bathroom and change me right now." I was in full panic. I was going to be humiliated.

    "Relax," she said. "If you haven't leaked yet, you won't until you wet again. I'll change you after dinner."

    I still worried, but I nibbled on each of my remaining curly fries while I waited for Violet to eat her fries. After eating we left the food court and went to the bathroom.

    There were just a few people in the bathroom and I eyed the changing table with embarrassment. I knew I was going to get changed. I pulled it down and looked at it.

    "I don't think it will hold you," she said.

    I looked down at the floor. It was disgusting. "I am not lying on the floor."

    "It won't come to that." She took me by the hand into the handicapped stall and closed the door. She then pulled my pants down. Sure enough, there were too little wet circles at the inseams of the diaper where it had leaked a few drops. She twisted the fabric to examine the outside. It still looked dry, so it hadn't soaked through the material.

    My diaper was swollen and yellowed beyond belief. She quickly undid the tapes and wadded up the diaper and used the tapes to tape it shut. She put it on the floor and got out some wipes. Then she cleaned me. Then the Desitin went on. I still felt clammy when she took out the clean diaper and put it behind me. Then she gently pushed me against the partition so the diaper was held behind me. She took the front of the diaper and pulled it between my legs and then taped it in place. It wasn't as tight as the changes when lying down, but I had a ring around each leg from the diaper elastic anyway. It could be looser without a problem. Soon my pants were back up, my shirt was down and I was as good as new.

    "I got to pee too," said Violet. She sat down on the toilet and went. I was so jealous. Why did she get to use the toilet? I was an adult too.

    After that, we grabbed our stuff and went back to her house. The outing was embarrassing, but Violet did not intentionally try to humiliate me.

  10. #10

    Re: The Surrogate Baby (Chapter 4 up: 12-9-2010)

    more more , me lowve it!!!!

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