AN: Thought I'd continue this.
I realized that at my current age I was going to need someone to care for me. Opening the book I quickly wrote, "Jon Turner has a caretaker to look after him." After finishing the someway sloppy sentence, my handwriting having suffered due to my regression, I immediately recognized the potential danger in having someone else around that could steal away the book, remembering the rule that the changes become irreversible and permanent if someone takes it. Quickly I jotted down, "Jon Turner has a caretaker who knows about his special book which she never touches, looks at, speaks of and let's him write in whenever he wants." I managed to finish the somewhat legible sentence, convinced that fixed the problem just as a beautiful woman entered the room where he was.
"There you are Jon, I was looking all over for you." Walking over she kneel down and undid my onesie to check my pull-ups. "Wow you're still dry, what a big boy you are Jon" she said in a patronizing tone. While part of me enjoyed the talking down to, I didn't want to be treated like my age all the time. Grabbing the book I wrote, "Jon Turner's caretaker babies him but also treats him like an adult."
The second after it was written I knew it worked as the woman then said, "I have to say Mr. Turner for someone who went from 35 to 3 years old your potty training is going really well. A few months ago you were in diapers, and now you're in pull-ups. Pretty soon you'll be in big boy underwear again" she told him with a smile. I blushed at the praise, even more so when I heard her use the word d-word. Suddenly I was curious what it would be like to be back in the disposable underwear, to wear my bathroom around my waist all the time. The thought had crossed my mind when I was at the store yesterday and passing through the diaper aisle. I came so close to buying some, only to chicken out and get pull-ups instead.
I warned over the decision before deciding to...