The Padded Palace Act IV: Chapter 14
“Hey Bingo, check it out!”
The living room was dead silent save for the electronically recycled phrases of the talking dog plushy in Riri’s hands. Sitting cross-legged on the floor with her back to the couch and soapy drool running down her chin, she played with the stuffed puppy while attempting to ignore the holes being burned into her skull by Stacy’s scowling eyes. Sadly, other than a handful of vocal lines, the stuffy in her hands did little else but sit in place without the necessary creative input from its user. And with things as tense as they were, she wasn’t feeling particularly inventive. Regret began to set in over not selecting a more immersive toy.
Stacy, meanwhile, had yet to say a word since her confrontation with Latasha. Neither had her expression changed, refusing to drop her stoically antagonistic gaze. Not even partial incontinence managed to break her from her statuesque pose as she pulled off wetting her diaper without so much as a flinch. That didn’t mean her mind wasn’t racing. Countless conversation paths circulated her head as she mentally prepared for her one-on-one with the Padded Palace’s monarch.
CREAK!
Suddenly, Stacy and Riri’s attention was captured by the small squeak that emanated from the staircase. Perched on the third step from the top, Skye knew she had been made. That didn’t stop her from scurrying away in a last-ditch effort to avoid confrontation.
“Shkye! Bweh!” said Riri, causing the soap bar in her mouth to slip out and fall to her lap. Her head craned forward to watch as Skye disappeared upstairs. Tightness overtook her chest as she glanced back at the door to Latasha’s office. The rules she was given were clear: she was to remain in the living room where Latasha could keep an eye on Stacy and her while conducting her interrogations. Still, it pained her to see Skye isolating herself. She wanted to run up to check on her friend but doing so would certainly mean risking further punishment. Her eyes darted between the soap in her hands and the vacant space on the stairs that Skye had previously occupied.
“Just go already,” said Stacy, stopping Riri’s internal debate in its tracks. She turned toward the wall, unwilling to look her nurserymate in the eye, “Look, I hate seeing Skye upset too. I’ll cover for you with Latasha.”
Flashing a brief smile, it made Riri happy to see how much Stacy still cared underneath the surface of her chilly demeanor. “Thanks,” she said simply as she hopped to her feet and hurried toward the stairs. The talking plushy in her hands dropped to the floor, offering her a motivational, “Let’s do this!” as she climbed to the second story.
SLAM!
Riri was greeted by Skye’s bedroom door flinging shut as she appeared at the top of the stairs. She paused briefly to take in the Padded Palace’s upstairs hallway, a space she rarely found herself in. The high arched ceiling and tall, wooden doors in combination with her short stature made her feel as small as a mouse as she ran past Connor’s room on her way to Skye’s door. Arriving at the foot of Skye’s bedroom, she gently knocked. “Psst, Skye. Cans we tawk?” she said, slipping back into Littlespeak for Skye’s sake. She pressed her ear to the door.
CLICK!
Without warning, Skye twisted her doorknob open, lightly startling Riri in the process. “No one ewse ish wif chus, wite?” she muttered, peaking through the crack in the door frame. Thankfully, she saw no sign of Connor, Latasha, or anyone else for that matter. She had too much on her mind to speak with anyone bigger than her presently, making Riri neutral territory.
“Ish jus me,” responded Riri, inching forward slowly to not spook her skittish friend. Sadly, even a few tiny scoots were enough for Skye to push the door closed and sprint back to the safety of her crib.
Sighing with the bitter taste of soap lingering on her breath, Riri was struggling not to let her annoyance get the better of her. She’d had her fill of playing therapist for one weekend. Again, she was the one paying to be Little here! Everyone was going to be friends again in the Padded Palace, and she was going to make Goddess-darn certain of it. “Skye, am comin’ in,” she said, giving a momentary verbal warning before intruding on Skye’s private dormitory.
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“What is going on out there?” muttered Connor, listening next to his bedroom door as a series of footsteps darted back and forth across the upstairs hallway, accompanied by the sound of doors opening and closing multiple times in quick succession. The timing of all this commotion couldn’t have been worse as he was hoping to slink off to the shower now that his kinky appetite had been sufficed. Tragically, any time his hand reached for the doorknob, another noise would force him to retreat. Sitting on the edge of the bed, he sighed as he placed his hands atop the silken skirt of his dress. It didn’t fix everything but rubbing the fabric between his fingers did help in reducing his nerves.
Waiting for a lull in the cacophony of footsteps, Connor approached his door again, his heart thumping wildly. Part of him wondered why he was trying to be so sneaky in the first place. It wasn’t like there was anyone left in the Padded Palace who didn’t know about his supposedly secret sissy side. Attempting to shake off his shame complex, he abruptly opened the door whilst pretending not to care about who may be waiting on the other side. A wave of cowardly relief overtook him as he encountered an empty hallway. “All that buildup for nothing,” he scoffed at himself, feeling a tad ridiculous. With that said, he wasn’t looking to linger in the open hall until his luck ran out.
CLICK!
Connor immediately locked the door behind him upon entering the upstairs bathroom. Despite the fact the bathroom was directly across the hall from his room, he seldom used it beyond the occasional, late-night potty break. That was because, unlike the larger downstairs bathroom or Latasha’s master bath, this lavatory was considerably smaller. There was no big bathtub for him to sink himself in. Only a cramped stall with barely enough space to scrub at his lower half. However, beggars couldn’t be choosers, and he wasn’t about to expose his still sissified attire to the entire living room.
Peering into the three-panel mirror as he moved to strip himself of the sensuous nightie, Connor was reminded of the similar position he found himself in last night. Only then, he was in such a rush that he never stopped to take in his own reflection. Afforded the opportunity to once again see himself all dressed up, he snickered at his embarrassingly puerile presentation. He shuttered his eyelids partially and blurred his vision, erasing his masculine imperfections and leaving only a stubby-haired toddler girl in his place. A fuzzy warmth slowly overtook his chest to such an extent that it became difficult to breathe. Regretfully, that warmth wasn’t built to last as the moment he allowed his vision to correct itself, he was forced to accept the reality of his adult male face, which was only partially shrouded by Stacy’s fading handiwork.
“Ah, ah, ah! Don’t you dare smudge my masterpiece.”
In the midst of examining his face, Connor pulled away at the last second as Stacy’s bossy command replayed in his head. His make-up may have lacked the luster it had back when it was initially applied but other than a few minor blemishes in need of a touch-up, it had held together very well, especially when considering how “active” he had been since his adoring makeover. Unfortunately, without the tools to re-up his feminine complexion, the cosmetic flaws that existed brought his masculine facial features to the surface, establishing a dissonance within him that spiked his anxiety.
Failing to unsee the flatness of his cheekbones and the stiffness in his jaw, Connor abandoned his reflection and forged ahead with preparing for his shower. Stripping the powder blue nightie from his body, he proceeded to rip up the tapes from the moist, clammy diaper one by one. Unlike his diaper from last night, this diaper wasn’t a hazardous waste zone. As such, he felt no remorse and allowed the soggy pamper to plop to the ground between his feet. He quickly folded the used nappy, sealing it shut with its own tapes like the professional caregiver he was.
At long last, Connor had completely freed himself of ABDL attire. Had this been one of the naughty stories he’d read last night, such a luxury would have likely never occurred. After all, what good was an ageplay fantasy that didn’t leave someone padded for the rest of their diaper-loving days? The cool air of the A/C nipped at his bare, powder-covered backside and damp upper thighs, encouraging him to jump in the shower promptly.
TO BE CONTINUED…