The bus wound through Ardenthill, past brick buildings gripped by ivy bursting with vibrant green life. Trees framed a park that gave the citizens a lovely refuge of flowers among the neat gray streets. If the buildings weren’t brick, they were picturesque white with dark shutters. Downtown Ardenthill was the image of a lovely New England town. Ordinarily, Ava loved a bus ride. She’d spend it making up stories for the people, pets, and stuffies that lived in each charming house.
On this particular bus ride, her legs wouldn’t stop trembling. Snuggled up against her as Briana was, there was no way she was missing Ava’s tremors. The time she should have spent enjoying a cuddle with her girlfriend* was spent deliberately breathing each breath. Without conscious intervention, Ava knew she’d be reduced to gasping. The sensible thing to do in her current state would be to go home, lie on her couch, and put her hated emergency pendant on.
* May not be a girlfriend on a permanent basis or in all jurisdictions. License and terms may vary. Not guaranteed to be compatible with all girlfriend activities. U-Hauling not recommended.
More than she hated the emergency pendant her parents had purchased when she moved to Ardenthill for school, Ava hated the idea that she couldn’t go on a simple shopping trip with her girlfriend*. Somewhere between those two hatreds was her disdain for the concern she could see growing on Briana’s face. She didn’t want her girlfriend to be concerned about her. Ava wanted her girlfriend to be cuddly, horny, and handsy to the limit appropriate for a bus trip.
The problem is – I might need her to be concerned if this gets any worse.
Ava had fought against using crutches until her last year of high school. No one had called her a poor little disabled girl in her undergraduate studies – at least not to her face. She was prepared to fight tooth and nail against using a wheelchair until her fifties, at least. The Microbiology department knew her as a bright and rising researcher, not as a cripple.
Her fight today was the same. Ava was allowed a damn date. Of that, she was certain. She would take things slowly, focus on her breathing, and have a good time watching her girlfriend* prance around one of Ardenthill’s most notorious stores. I am not a Lifetime Movie Special, I am not a statistic, and I am not a pity case. Today goes the way I want. My disease doesn’t get a say.
Though she never got her legs to sit still, Ava’s diaphragm decided to continue contributing and let her breathe normally. The victory was a bloom of pride in Ava that had her excitedly pointing out her favorite houses to Briana. Seeing concern drop off Briana’s face to be replaced by the girl’s trademark innocent joy was another victory, almost as important as the first.
The bus blew by a crowd of people holding signs. Ava didn’t get to read them but wasn’t surprised to see protestors. There was plenty to protest in the world, and people in a college town were more likely to be riled up than most. The fact that the protest was on a random street corner, not in front of Planned Parenthood, indicated that Ava would agree with the cause du jour.
Holding Briana’s hand as she exited the bus, Ava felt an excited tingle in her palm. Her legs might still be buzzy, but nobody could tell that while wearing sweats. The important thing was that they were holding. Mission control was calling in: the board was all green, and the date launch was a go.
Almost all the bus stops in Ardenthill had benches and rain covers; the stop they needed to transfer at was no exception. Ava knew better than to push her luck. She sat on the bench as soon as they were off the bus. Besides, it meant more snuggling time with her girlfriend*. Down the street, she could hear the protestors chanting something. Their voices were getting closer – which meant it was a march. That was unusual enough for Ava to crane her neck out of the bus shelter and look down the street. The sight of the protest signs chilled her blood.
ABDL appeared in large block letters on most of the signs, always crossed out or surrounded by a red circle and crossed. Some signs showed restroom-style silhouettes wearing diapers with big red Xs on them. Other signs were more wordy, with hateful text that Ava didn’t allow herself to read. As the protestors approached, their chants came through loud and clear.
“No freaks in Ardenthill! No adults in diapers!”
Ava looked back at Briana. Her girlfriend* looked terrified. There was nothing on her that was overtly ABDL, with the possible exception of her backpack. If she was wearing a diaper, it had to be a subtle one. Ava hadn’t heard so much as a crinkle since she’d run into Briana in the lab. It didn’t matter. The uneasiness Ava was feeling was obviously multiplied many times over in Briana. Ava liked to be Little – loved it on occasion – but her girlfriend* was Little.
And now a mob of people is coming to attack her identity directly.
The smart, safe thing would have been to hold on to Briana and let the protestors pass on their hateful way. Ava had already demonstrated she wasn’t interested in safety or smartness that day. She could handle anger and hateful directed at her – with maybe a good cry later. The same hate directed at her girlfriend* was not acceptable. As the mob streamed around the bus shelter, Ava surged to her feet.
“No Freaks in Ardenthill! Get the Perverts out!” The shelter rang with the slogan.
“Why don’t you mind your own business?” Ava snarled at the protestors. “ABDLs aren’t hurting anyone!”
Few in the crowd had even heard her. Those that did frowned and sneered at her. She was ready for that and had been expecting it. What Ava hadn’t expected was a middle-aged man stepping out of the crowd to get in her face.
“You’re a friend to those freaks? Or are you one of them?” His face was beet red. Ava’s mind was screaming alarm bells, but she was too upset to back down. There had been too many disappointments and hardships in the day.
“It doesn’t matter either way. It’s none of your business what somebody wears!”
The man’s hands came up, looming toward Ava. They were bigger than he was. His palms hit her in the shoulders and pushed hard. Instinctively, Ava resisted. All she wanted was not to fall. What she got was the full brunt of her weight and the man’s push on her already shaking legs. They collapsed under her like rubber bands. A shocked gasp went up from the crowd as Ava’s crutches went flying and clattered to the ground. She hit like a wad of wet toilet paper. It hurt.
Before Ava could assess the damage, Briana was on her feet. The power of her angry screams seemed impossible for a being so small. The mere force of her yell pushed a space back into the crowd.
“You pushed over a disabled girl!?” Briana bellowed. “I’m calling the police! Someone arrest that man! Citizen’s arrest!”
The middle-aged man bolted into the crowd. The rest of the protestors didn’t seem keen on stopping him, but they all had guilty looks. As Briana began dialing on her cell phone, the protestors scattered. A few that had been on the other side of the bus shelter lingered for a bit, then dispersed with the rest.
“Hello, dispatcher?” Fury was still evident on Briana’s face as she kept her eyes on the man who’d pushed Ava. “This is Briana Tess Rasmussen. I need a police officer at the corner of Court and Summer Street. My friend was assaulted by a white male, six foot tall, middle-aged, with salt and pepper hair. He’s wearing a white t-shirt and blue jeans.”
It was charming and too much fuss. Ava tried to take a deep breath to ask Briana to calm down – and didn’t get any air. Her chest was numb, her diaphragm unresponsive. In a panic, she beat her fist on the bus shelter.
“Briana!” Ava croaked her girlfriend’s* name out when the girl turned to look at her. “Help!”
“I need an ambulance too, NOW! Same address. She’s not breathing!” Briana dropped to her knees and let her phone hit the ground.
The world was getting blurry – not a good sign. Ava pushed feebly on her stomach, forcing her lungs to expel air. With a terrible gasping sound, she managed to get fresh air down her throat. She pawed at Briana, mimed pressing on her belly and up towards her ribs. The next few minutes were a nightmare of shallow gasps that kept Ava alive in a slowly darkening world.
When the paramedics arrived, Ava showed them the medical tag on her bracelet. They put an oxygen mask on her face. One of them gave her something that might have been adrenaline. She pressed the old, familiar plastic to her face and inhaled sweet energy that brightened the world around her. In mere minutes, she was sitting propped up against one of the paramedics, taking deep breaths alone.
“We’d really like to transport you to the emergency department for monitoring, ma’am.” As always, the paramedic was being helpful and earnest. Just as predictably, their offer was useless.
“I refuse transport,” Ava said as clearly as possible. She pulled her mouth into the best smile she could manage to take away the sting of her flat statement. “I appreciate your help, but there’s nothing more they can do for me there.”
“I think there’s a lot they could do.” The earnest, sandy-haired paramedic insisted. “Starting with keeping an eye on you.”
Ava shook her head. “I have muscular dystrophy. Today’s just a bad day. You got me the oxygen I needed – thank you. My chest muscles should cooperate for the rest of the day.”
“Your friend looks pretty worried. Are you sure?” It was – hopefully – the nice paramedic’s last attempt.
Ava looked at Briana, whose black makeup had streaked down her cheeks with tears. She could add that to the day’s problems; she’d made her girlfriend* cry on the very day they’d become girlfriends. Again, Ava shook her head.
“I do not consent to be transported.”
“I hear you,” The paramedic said unhappily. “Please take it easy for the rest of the day.”
“I think I have to.” Ava felt a portion of her heart break as she gave up on her date with Briana.
Assured that she wouldn’t try to run sprints down the street, the paramedics packed up their gear and hopped in their ambulance. They left with flashing lights, which made Ava feel better about refusing to be transported. Someone who needs it more than me will get that ride.
There was a police cruiser nearby, but no sign of the policeman. Presumably, Briana had talked to him while Ava was getting medical attention. In preparation for getting to her feet, Ava looked down at herself to take an inventory of her bruises. When she saw the wet spot on her sweatpants, the awareness of her wet crotch and legs came back. Though she was wearing dark gray, the wet blotch was obvious – she’d dumped her entire bladder while she was fighting for air.
It was. One. Too. Many. Straws.
Ava sobbed. She balled up on the pavement and cried her eyes out. Briana’s gentle touch did nothing to stop the sobs but did get Ava to flip over and cling to her girlfriend*.
“Ava, are you okay? What’s going on?”
“I had an accident!” Slipping into the Little word for wetting herself was easier than facing the issue as an adult. Besides, though Briana had been Big all day, in Ava’s mind, she was still the girl who had played mini-golf with her in a big diaper.
“Yeah, you did. I think my mom and dad are in a meeting right now. I could call Gary…”
“No!” Ava let her total frustration with all things Gary vent into the word. It felt good, like the empowering start of a tantrum.
“Okay, right, um – I guess I could…” Briana stroked Ava’s back. “Oh! I know. I can call a professional.”
“Don’t waste emergency services time with this.” Ava snapped.
“Not that kind of professional. A potty professional.” Briana picked up her phone; it had still been lying where she’d dropped it.
“What the fuck are you talking about?” Ava’s grumpiness and incredulity had stopped her crying, at least. She squinted suspiciously at Briana.
“Language, Little Girl.” Briana stuck her tongue out at Ava as she dialed. “The babysitter I’m calling doesn’t let us swear.”
“I don’t want some random…”
“Her name is Monserrat; she’s a professional babysitter. She helps Little girls like you and me. She’s babysat me once already. Do you remember Flora from my birthday? She babysits Flora a lot.”
Ava sniffled. It seemed possible that Monserrat, as a babysitter, might not be the worst thing in the world. The only problem was cost. A professional adult babysitter sounded like a lot of fun – and really expensive.
“Briana, I’m not sure I can afford…”
“It doesn’t matter if you can or not.” Briana sighed at her phone and pressed a couple of buttons. “I’m booking Monserrat for both of us and covering your half as a treat. We’re on a date, aren’t we?”
“Are you going to let me finish even one…”
Briana kissed her fingers and pressed them to Ava’s lips. “No. Now be a good girl, and our babysitter will give us candy.”
Candy sounded amazing. Sugar seemed equal in comfort to Ava getting out of her wet sweats. That strong of a reaction meant she was feeling Little for sure. It was weird to be Little in public – but she had her Little girlfriend* with her, and there was a babysitter on the way, so weird was apparently on the menu.
“Monserrat? It’s Briana Rasmussen. Thank you so much for picking up.” Briana squeezed Ava’s hand. “Yes, it’s an emergency. My girlfriend got hurt and had an accident. The EMTs just left, but we need a babysitter for the second part.”
Ava snuggled up to Briana, wishing she had Brownie to cuddle too. Briana’s voice was trending toward her Little inflection. From her current angle, Ava couldn’t see the police car, and the protesters were long gone. Other than some minor bruises, she felt fine. Her muscles were back to their only slightly-useless selves. It was easy to pretend that nothing terrible had happened except for having an accident when she was out with Briana.
So that’s what happened. Until Monserrat – she better be as cool as Briana says – is done babysitting me, all that happened is that I had an accident. Just like my girlfriend** does.
** Girlfriends that demonstrate the ability to scatter a hostile mob and handle a medical emergency are likely to be of the permanent type. While life has no guarantees, it is safe to assume that the Briana model is, in fact, a good girlfriend.