Daddy continues, his voice soft. “Every Little on this island uses a diaper, Melody. It’s part of the experience. No Little ispermitted into any bathroom on the island. In fact, they’re on a keypad. You wouldn’t be able to open them if you tried.”
I start shaking now. “But I need to go potty,” I murmur as if I’m not fully grasping the situation. I am. I’m staring at the pile of diapers.
“Let’s take care of that then, shall we?” He starts walking me forward, deeper into the nursery.
I drag my feet. My heart is racing. I can’t do this.
I wiggle free of Daddy and dart from the room. When I reach the hall, I try the last door and find it is indeed locked. I panic a bit and rush into the living room. I don’t know where to go or what to do, but I need to think, so I head for the corner of the room and crouch down in a ball next to a pile of throw pillows.
I draw my knees up and rock back and forth a bit. My bladder suddenly seems to have a greater urgency than one minute ago, probably because I’ve begun to grasp the entirety of what’s expected of me.
I set my forehead on my knees and stare at the hardwood floor. I don’t even care my dress is not covering my panties, and the floor is uncomfortable against my bottom.
I feel Daddy’s presence without seeing him. His shadow looms over me soon after. He sits on the coffee table because it’s the closest surface to me. I know this because I can see his feet.
“Baby girl, you have used the toilet in front of me hundreds of times. I’m not sure how wearing a diaper makes any difference. It’s simply going to absorb your pee pee, and then I’ll change it.”
I shake my head. It’s different. It is. It’s a huge step. “I’m scared,” I murmur, not sure why that’s the first thing that comes to mind. It makes no sense.
“What are you afraid of, baby girl?”
I don’t answer for a long time. I don’t even know the answer. What I know is I’m quivering at the idea, and it’s making me nervous.
“Melody, tell Daddy what you’re scared of.”
“I’m afraid I might like it,” I whisper so softly even I barely hear myself. I’m not sure I had fully formed that thought until the moment it came out. Now, I understand better. “I’m worried I’ll lose myself if I give up this much control.” I tip my head back finally to look up at Daddy. My cheeks are damp from tears.
My lip quivers. “You’ll be in charge of everything if I’m a baby, Daddy. That’s scary.”
He smiles warmly. “Baby girl, you’ll still be you underneath. I promise. You won’t lose brain cells,” he teases. “You’ll just enjoy the freedom of not making decisions. It can be very satisfying. Freeing. I’m asking you to give it three months. Let me take over for the summer. You won’t have to worry about a single thing except doing what you’re told. You’ve been a bit of a wild child for a few months. Lost. Struggling to find yourself. I think the reason you’ve been acting up is because you’re crying out for help. You’ve known for years you’re submissive, baby girl, and almost that long that you’re a Little.”
He lets that sit with me for a moment before continuing. “Regression Island is specifically designed to help Littles go all the way back to infancy. You’ll need to let go of the fight inside you that wants to control things.”
“What if I don’t like it?”
“You’ll do it anyway. I’m asking you to give it a chance. You can’t know if you won’t like something until you try it. And I don’t mean for an hour.”
My lip trembles again. “For the entire summer?”
“Yes, baby girl.”
“Can I use the potty sometimes, like when I need to go number two?”
He shakes his head. “Nope. Not even then.”
I lower my face again and start rocking. I need to think about what he’s said. I know he’s right about my behavior lately. I’vebeen very naughty and getting worse. Perhaps I was testing him to see if he would put me in my place.
He definitely has, and then some. In a way, it’s a relief. I’m glad he’s capable of being this firm with me. I want him to be in charge. I love it. I always have. He’s the best Daddy ever. But regression… It’s a huge step.
“Are you ready to change, baby girl?”
I hesitate and nod at the floor.
He stands and reaches out a hand. “Come on, Little one. I promise it will be okay. Get out of your head and let Daddy take care of you.”
I slowly unfold my body and take his hand, letting him pull me to my feet and lead me to the nursery. We head straight for the changing table, and I suck in a breath when Daddy lifts me by the waist and swings me onto the padded surface.
Before lowering me to my back, he reaches for the hem of my dress and pulls it over my head. After setting it aside, he eases me onto my back as if I might fall without his help.
