29
The ABDU campus was decked out in every flavor of spooky, from ridiculous inflated ghosts to grimly ragged specters that towered over the students. Half the student body was still in some of their Halloween costumes the day after. Ginger was in the other half of students, dressed in sweatpants and a thick woolen sweater. She didn’t have a Halloween costume. She’d never had a Halloween costume.
Ginger’s mom would have hated the way the campus looked. Mom’s public comments would have been limited to muttering “witchcraft” and “satanism”, but once they were home, she’d whip up an epic rant. Once, Ginger had tried to protest that the kids dressing up for Halloween didn’t worship Satan. She’d asked them to make sure, and they were as amused as they were mystified by the question. Mom had responded that people didn’t have to know they were letting Satan into their hearts for it to happen. The explanation hadn’t satisfied Ginger completely, but it’d been enough for her to let the matter go.
After living on campus and meeting all kinds of people in her classes and sorority, Ginger couldn’t put stock in her mother’s paranoia anymore. No students were brewing secret evil – they were all just people. Some of them were lazy, mean, or rule-breakers, but there was no pattern. The Christians on campus were just as likely to misbehave as the kids who didn’t go to church. People who decorated or dressed up for Halloween were often good.
Maybe Mom got it wrong. Ginger sat on a campus bench and stared listlessly at the chemistry building. Her mother didn’t approve of Ginger taking science classes either. She’d only managed to sign up for the class because the school had a science requirement. Even then, Mom had made her promise not to major in science.
“Join a sorority; they’ll help you find a husband,” Mom had said.
Tears dripped down Ginger’s cheeks. She ran her fingers over the day-collar Chun had given her. One week into dating Chun, Ginger had known that marrying a man would make her miserable for life. Maybe God doesn’t want me to be happy. My happiness might not fit into His plan.
The thought was cruel and demoralizing but comforting as well. It was the same kind of thoughts she’d had when pastor Greg had sermonized about the evils of homosexual relationships. He was usually talking about gay men, but Ginger didn’t need to ask to know he wouldn’t have approved of lesbians either. Desperately, she wished she was home, talking to her pastor. She needed him to tell her that she was Saved, that everything would be okay if she submitted to Christ. For him to assure her that it was okay for life to be hard because there would be rejoicing for all eternity in the kingdom of heaven.
Past the chemistry building, a road wound through some lovely oaks that still carried brilliant red leaves. At the end of that road was Ginger’s college church, with an ice cream shop across the street. Mom had indulged in rare religious humor when they’d visited the church together, teasing Ginger about getting ice cream every Sunday. Ginger was too cold for ice cream and in too much turmoil for church.
Pastor Mike was a good pastor for college kids and wrote better sermons than pastor Greg. The church band was good, and everyone there was friendly. But they weren’t Ginger’s home community. She couldn’t sit down with pastor Mike and tell him she wasn’t a virgin anymore, that she was sleeping with a woman, that she wore a BDSM collar every day – and that she was wearing diapers at her girlfriend’s request.
Why don’t I change sororities? For the thousandth time, Ginger wondered why she hadn’t walked out of the room when the Heathers had explained the Delta Lambda Gamma secret. Dozens of explanations had suggested themselves in that time. Had she stayed because Camilla was there? Was it because she didn’t think she could get into another sorority? Would Mom pull her out of school if she started doing unexpected things like changing her living situation?
In the blustery cold of early November, Ginger had a partial answer. The whole truth of why she’d stayed was something she might never know – but she could admit that wearing diapers had intrigued her. Playing the baby in an ABDL sorority felt like a chance to grow up again. I could grow up normally this time. If I’d been normal, Camilla and I could have fallen in love in High School. We could be married now.
Guilt made Ginger’s stomach rumble. She was glad her girlfriend – if Chun still was her girlfriend – couldn’t hear her thoughts. She loved Chun, and she loved Camilla. The contradiction was agonizing. A year ago, Ginger would have been horrified to call people outside her church normal. Now, that was nothing compared to the heartbreak she was feeling. No matter how far she went into sex, perversion, or secularism, Ginger didn’t think she’d ever want to be with two people at the same time. Love was supposed to be for one person. A single person who would consume and complete her.
Cold from the frosty wood of the bench seeped through Ginger’s sweatpants, making her shiver from head to toe. She hopped up and trotted homeward. Her walk hadn’t illuminated much about her life, but she’d figured out a few things. The DLG house was home, and she needed the comfort of someone caring for her.
~~~*~~~
Ginger’s composure began to slip when she stepped into the DLG house. Her desire to be Little was drawing in the emotional instability of Littlespace, magnifying her heartache and homesickness. She needed to find someone to mommy her, and fast. Chun was not an option. It wouldn’t be right to ask her girlfriend for emotional support when they were fighting. That being babied by Chun wouldn’t feel perfectly safe until the fight was resolved was a thought Ginger shied away from as soon as it came up.
Camilla was out of town, which meant Betty might be available. The sweet, gentle mommy Camilla had lucked into was near the top of the long list of things Ginger envied about her rival. It was a stupid thought, though. Betty had no reason to give Ginger the time of day. There was always the daycare, but that felt too impersonal for the kind of attention Ginger wanted. The truth was, there was only one person she wanted to take care of her at that moment. Knowing she would likely be rejected, Ginger went to the chosen sister’s room anyway.
Heather Lambert opened her door seconds after Ginger knocked. Pink hair framed her strong features. She was beautiful and shapely but in an older, unattainable way. Heather’s outfit was less Swiftian than usual, with no sequins to be seen. Compared to Ginger’s depression chic, Heather’s lovely pink blouse and silvery-gray skirt made her look like a rock star.
“Ginger, what’s going on? Are you alright?”
Sniffling, Ginger shook her head. “It’s okay if you say no, but I need a mommy, and the only person I could think of was you.”
“Honey,” Heather said the word with such softness that Ginger burst into tears on the spot. Mercifully, Heather spared Ginger from crying like an idiot in the hallway by pulling the Little girl into her room.
“I should have texted you or something ahead of time. I know I’m interrupting.” Ginger sobbed. “G-give me a minute to stop crying, and I can go.”
“Shush, Little girl.” Heather plucked a pacifier from a small bin on her desk and popped it into Ginger’s mouth.
Ginger had intended to protest some more; she really had. The moment the rubber nipple passed her lips, she found herself sucking on it fiercely. To her surprise, her sobs stopped. Heather sat her on the bed and wiped her face with a soft cloth.
“I don’t usually do this without talking to a girl about being her mommy first, but this looks like an emergency.” Heather stroked Ginger’s hair. “If you want me to take over completely for a few hours, nod your head. Anything else, and I’ll take that pacifier out so we can talk about what you need.”
Before she’d fully processed Heather’s words, Ginger was nodding. The next thing she knew, she was on her back on Heather’s bed. The older girl stripped Ginger one piece of clothing at a time at a deliberate pace, leaving room for Ginger to protest at any point she wanted. She surrendered utterly, letting Heather bare her body and slide her onto a changing blanket.
The thick diaper and booster pad Heather put on Ginger had some implications about how long Heather expected Ginger to be in the diaper or how big an accident she anticipated. It was also a loud, crinkly type, drawing a blush out of Ginger as she wiggled her legs. Surprisingly, Heather put Ginger in a green corduroy dress instead of pajamas or a onesie. The Velcro sneakers that went on Ginger’s feet were suspicious enough. When Heather stood Ginger up and headed for the door, it was time to say something.
Ginger popped her pacifier out. “Um, Heather? I don’t really wanna see anybody…”
“That’s adorable. Babies don’t decide that kind of thing.” Heather took Ginger’s hand firmly. “I’m happy to mommy you, but I don’t have time to sit around in my room for the whole afternoon.”
“But…” Ginger pulled back in hesitation, only to be yanked to Heather’s side.
“You said you wanted me to take over, and that’s what you’re getting.” Heather put the pacifier firmly back in Ginger’s mouth. “Be a good girl, walk with Mommy.”
Heather left her room, still gripping Ginger’s hand, as if there was nothing more to discuss. By the time they were downstairs, Ginger conceded that the discussion was over. She trundled behind her temporary mommy, wishing her skirt wasn’t so short. The combination of her big diaper and short skirt put her crinkly butt on display for everyone they passed. Most of Ginger’s sisters merely smiled at her, but a few giggled. Hopefully, they were laughing because she was cute. The chuckles made Ginger blush and cleave closely to Heather all the same.
Their destination was the library, where Heather parked Ginger with the dark-haired Heather Rapp as if she couldn’t be trusted not to wander off. Heather Rapp held Ginger’s hand and continued her conversation with Heather Lambert. No one acknowledged Ginger except smiling at her or patting her head.
The sound of rattling metal caught Ginger’s attention; she turned to see Heather Miller securing an adult-sized baby bouncer to the ceiling. Ginger’s muffled whines of protest were ignored. Heather firmly directed Ginger to the bouncer and helped the Little girl put her legs into the harness. A few turns of a winch had Ginger on her toes, bobbing like a toddler next to Heather’s chair.
“Hey, Heathers,” Octavia called from the doorway. “Do you need the door closed for your meeting? Oh, you caught yourselves a cute baby!”
“Isn’t she darling?” Heather Miller grinned, squishing Ginger’s padded rear and sending her bouncing. “Door open is fine. It’s just DLG house finance stuff.”
Embarrassment like Ginger had never known burned in her cheeks and chest. She squeaked and fussed in the chair until Heather reached out and started her bouncing in a steady rhythm. It was both soothing and humiliating to be calmed down by bouncing in the jumper.
The meeting would have been too dull for Ginger to follow even if she hadn’t been distracted by her situation and headspace. As it was, she barely heard words. The Heathers’ conversation was a dull rumble of three soothing, older voices. Ginger occupied herself with bouncing and playing with the brightly colored balls on springs that dotted the baby bouncer.
Partway through the meeting, one of the sisters brought the Heathers some sandwiches and sodas. Included on the meal tray was a baby bottle, a small bowl of applesauce, and a bag of crackers. The Heathers took turns feeding each to Ginger.
“Was that a good lunch, baby girl?” Heather Lambert asked, stroking Ginger’s hair.
Though no one had returned Ginger’s pacifier, she didn’t feel like speaking. “Ya.” Was the noise she chose, along with a vigorous nod. Heather rewarded Ginger with a kiss on the forehead and more help bouncing.
Heather’s Rapp and Miller lifted Ginger out of the bouncer when the meeting wrapped up. She was wobbly on her feet from all the tiptoed bouncing and sank gratefully into Heather Lambert’s hug. The hug turned out to be a ruse to check Ginger’s diaper. Ginger whined in protest when Heather announced that her diaper was wet at full volume. If Heather’s announcement had been a surprise, Ginger was not prepared for what came next.
Heather Miller laid out a changing blanket, which Heather Lambert lowered Ginger onto. While Ginger was trying to figure out how to object, Heather Lambert put Ginger’s skirt in her hands. She’d barely recovered from that thought-train derailment when Heather tore the tapes on her diaper and lifted her legs.
Ginger’s jaw dropped, and her pacifier rolled down her cheek and landed on her hair. A wail of protest died in her throat. The library was in a corner of the house; few sisters would pass by the door. Yelling would certainly draw onlookers, however. Feeling truly helpless, Ginger lay quietly while Heather wiped her wet butt. The other two Heathers were wrapping up the meeting, paying the baby on the floor no mind.
Heather Lambert was unflinching in getting up in Ginger’s business, wiping her down with all the brusque thoroughness of a busy mom. She had the same attitude toward spreading lotion across Ginger’s diaper area and patting in the baby powder. Though the diaper change was matter-of-fact from its start to Heather taping Ginger into a fresh set of padding, Ginger realized she’d rarely felt so loved. The Heathers were taking care of her as a regular part of their day, incorporating her into their activities as if she really belonged to them.
When Heather finished changing Ginger’s diaper, no one consulted the Little girl on the group’s next steps. Ginger happily accepted her pacifier and dutifully followed the Heathers to their next destination. That turned out to be the living room, where Heather Miller put Ginger on her lap while she talked to her friends. Whenever one of the Heathers had to get up, they passed Ginger to another of the girls. All of them snuggled Ginger close, even Heather Rapp.
The stern, dark-haired Heather was rapidly becoming a favorite of Ginger’s. Her embrace was full of the strength and casual authority that Ginger expected. She wasn’t afraid to nuzzle Ginger or squeeze her with subtle hugs, hinting at a depth of caring that Ginger imagined Heather took as seriously as she took everything else.
Ginger was so focused on going with the flow that she didn’t realize her time with the Heathers was ending until Heather Miller guided Ginger into her bedroom.
“Time for a nap, baby girl. I have to meet with one of my professors, but if you’re still dressed like this at dinner, you can sit next to me, and I’ll check your diaper then.”
“That – sounds nice.” Ginger leaned into Heather, hugging her tightly and nuzzling her face into the girl’s chest.
“Aww, I wish I didn’t have to go too.” Heather stroked Ginger’s hair. “Did this afternoon help you?”
“Yeah – but it’s not what I thought you would do.” Ginger knew she was being ridiculous, talking into her sorority sister’s chest, but couldn’t bring herself to pull away. “I thought you were going to make me talk about stuff.”
“I’m happy to give you a break and some baby time, but I know enough to know that if you need to talk, what you need is a therapist.”
“I don’t have money for a therapist.” Ginger wasn’t lying – exactly – her health insurance was through her mom, and Mom would never approve of her going to therapy. She’d insist that Ginger talk to a pastor instead. Though she had no idea of exactly what a therapist cost, Ginger was pretty sure it was out of the reach of her spending money.
“The campus health center has free therapists for students. All you have to do is sign up.” Heather kissed the top of Ginger’s head. “You don’t have to, but it’d be a good idea. Mommy Heather thinks so. I’d be proud of you for being brave enough to go.”
Ginger looked up at Heather in surprise. “You’d be proud of me for that?”
“That’s what I said, baby girl.” Heather delicately disengaged from the hug and sat Ginger on her bed. While she popped the Little girl’s shoes off, she said, “Either way, it’s nap time, as I said. Unlike the therapist, naptime is not optional.”
“Okay, Mommy.” Ginger squirmed happily under her covers. She gave a contented sigh as Heather tucked the blankets up to her chin.
“Good girl. Nap now. Sit by me at dinner if you want. I’ll cut your meat up for you and feed you bites if you need it.”
“I think I will.” Ginger yawned.
“Silly girl. You’re going to be okay.” Heather ruffled Ginger’s hair, turned out the light, and quietly closed the door behind her.
Maybe I will be okay, Ginger thought as she drifted into a light sleep.