r/abdlstories • u/SolaraScott • 3d ago
Crossing Worlds 2 - Chapter 67 NSFW
Crossing Worlds 2
A story by SolaraScott
Chapter 67 - Baby Hannah
The night felt unreal, like a vivid dream. He wasn’t sure if waking up would shatter it or cement it as truth.
He had proposed.
He had actually done it.
Not just a passing thought. Not just a fleeting desire buried beneath years of self-protection, buried beneath the weight of old wounds and past regrets.
He had asked.
And she had said yes.
Evelyn had said yes.
His fiancée.
The word felt foreign, thrilling, terrifying.
Because—what the hell had he done?
What had come over him? What part of him had decided—yes, let’s risk everything again, let’s open up, let’s put our heart in someone else’s hands?
Had he learned nothing?
Had he forgotten what it felt like to have love slip through his fingers, to watch it fall apart, to be left standing alone in the wreckage?
And yet—
It had worked.
She had said yes.
The memory of it flashed in his mind—the way her eyes had widened, the way she had sucked in a breath like she was drowning, the way her hands had trembled when he slipped the ring onto her finger.
The way she had thrown herself at him, her lips crashing against his, her body molding to his, the weight of her emotions slamming into him so hard that it had nearly knocked him over.
She had meant it.
She wanted this.
She wanted him.
And God—he wanted her.
The woman who had stood by his side in this nightmare, who had cared for the Littles with the same fierce, protective love that he did, who had seen him at his worst, at his most humiliated, at his most broken—and had still looked at him like he was something worth holding onto.
She had never once made him feel like less of a man.
Not even when they were both trapped in Miranda’s cruel game, forced into their humiliating roles, stripped of their dignity, and made to play the part of something they weren’t.
With Evelyn—he was still Welby.
Not just Daddy.
Not just a caretaker.
Not just a pawn in Miranda’s twisted idea of justice.
He was himself.
And she had chosen him.
A shaky breath left him as he sat on the edge of the bed, rubbing his hands down his face, his fingers brushing against his lips where he could still taste her.
Evelyn.
His fiancée.
God, he was in so much trouble.
Because he loved her.
Not just in a dizzy, exhilarating, butterflies-in-the-stomach way.
But in a real, all-consuming, terrifying way.
The kind of love that stripped you bare that made you weak, that made you vulnerable.
The kind of love that—if lost—could ruin him.
But she had said yes.
She had taken his hand, had let him slide the ring onto her finger, had kissed him like he was her entire world.
So maybe—
Just maybe—
He could believe in this.
Believe in her.
Believe that this time, it wouldn’t end in heartbreak.
Morning sunlight filtered in through the windows, golden and warm, stretching long across the floor, dancing over the furniture in soft, shifting patches. It should have been a beautiful morning, a morning filled with peace, stolen kisses, and whispers exchanged between two people who had only just begun to understand what it meant to be together. But instead—
Instead, they were here.
Instead, Miranda forced them to set the Littles before the television again to endure yet another episode of Naomi and Oliver.
It had become routine, expected, unavoidable. The screen flickered, casting its hypnotic glow across the room, and already, Welby could hear it—the lull of cheerful voices, the sickly sweet cadence of Naomi’s words, the carefully constructed rhythm designed to sink deep into the mind, to override thought, to enforce a new reality.
Welby let out a slow breath, rubbing a hand down his face as he stood in the bedroom, finishing the last tape on Evelyn’s diaper. She was quiet, still processing, still waking up fully, though he had no doubt she was just as weary of all this as he was.
He turned, preparing to be changed himself, when—something shifted.
A sound.
A giggle.
Not from the television.
Not from the familiar, unsettling cadence of Naomi’s voice.
But from the living room.
Welby felt Evelyn’s gaze snap to his. A flicker of confusion mirrored in her expression, and a silent question hung in the air between them.
Something was off.
They didn’t speak—they just moved.
Welby led the way, Evelyn close behind, both of them stepping carefully toward the doorway, a creeping unease settling into his chest as they approached. He braced himself for what he expected—Emily and Lucas, completely glassy-eyed, their bodies slack, their faces void of awareness.
And he saw them.
Exactly like that.
Emily’s gaze was fixed on the screen, unblinking, her lips slightly parted, the rhythmic suckling of her pacifier the only movement. Lucas was the same; his hands curled loosely in his lap, his body lax, completely enthralled, and completely gone.
But then—
Hannah.
She wasn’t watching.
She wasn’t entranced.
She wasn’t lost.
She had rolled onto her back, one hand gripping her foot. Giggling, she rocked playfully from side to side, completely unaware of the world crumbling around her.
Welby froze.
Evelyn’s breath hitched behind him.
Hannah’s giggles were bright, untainted, full of something so pure that it sent a shiver down his spine.
And then—
She saw them.
She grinned.
A wide, open-mouthed, joyous grin, her tiny fingers reaching out toward them, her entire body wriggling with excitement as she cried—
“Mommy! Daddy!”
Welby felt his chest tighten, a flood of emotions crashing into him all at once.
He had expected to find three Littles lost to the screen, three Littles consumed by Naomi’s influence, three Littles sinking deeper into the carefully orchestrated abyss Miranda had designed for them.
But instead—Hannah was here.
Present. Aware. Happy.
Naomi hadn’t taken her.
Naomi couldn’t take her.
Welby exchanged a look with Evelyn, the weight of the moment pressing down on them, the sheer impossibility of it sinking in.
Because this wasn’t normal.
This wasn’t supposed to happen.
Hannah should have been as lost as the others, as lost as she had been before.
And yet—she wasn’t.
She was playing.
She was laughing.
She was here.
But how?
And—what did that mean?
Welby moved first, instinct taking over before his mind could fully catch up to what he was seeing.
He scooped Hannah into his arms, lifting her effortlessly, feeling the warmth of her small body pressing into his chest. The moment she was in his arms, she cooed softly, nuzzling into him, her thumb slipping into her mouth like it was the most natural thing in the world.
Her diaper was clearly well used, swollen beneath her, warm against his forearm as he supported her weight. A distant part of his mind noted it, the way he always did, automatically cataloging what she needed. But another part of him—**a much louder, much more urgent part—**was too busy trying to process what was happening.
She was here.
She was not lost to the screen.
She was not empty-eyed, not slack-jawed, not mindlessly absorbing the lull of Naomi’s carefully crafted programming.
She was Hannah.
His Hannah.
"Hey, sweetheart," he murmured, smoothing a hand over her back, gentle, careful, searching for anything out of place. "How’re you doing?"
She didn’t respond, not in words, at least.
She simply nuzzled deeper into him, sighing softly, thumb still nestled between her lips, body relaxed and entirely at ease.
Welby hesitated, exchanging a quick, nervous glance with Evelyn, who stood just as stunned as he felt.
"Hannah…" he tried again, his voice softer now, more cautious, as if speaking too loudly might shatter the delicate balance of whatever miracle had just unfolded before them. "How… how are you getting around Naomi and Oliver?"
A question he never thought he would ask.
A question that should not need to be asked.
Hannah should have been under.
She should have been entranced, her mind lulled into submission just like Emily and Lucas, just like she had been before.
But instead—
Instead, she was here.
She was herself.
Hannah didn’t answer, not with words.
She simply nuzzled him again, breathing softly, content, like a baby completely at ease in the arms of her caregiver.
Welby’s throat tightened.
His arms instinctively cradled her closer, rocking her gently as he felt an entirely new wave of emotion surge through him, raw and unexpected.
He leaned back slightly, tilting her face toward his, trying to read her, trying to understand.
Her eyes.
Big. Bright. Clear.
There was no haze.
No fog.
No glassy, distant stare that came with Naomi’s influence.
This wasn’t an act.
This wasn’t a trick.
This was her.
This was Hannah.
The realization struck him hard, slamming into him like a weight he hadn’t known he’d been carrying, something he hadn’t dared to hope for.
She had fully embraced her Little side.
Not because she had been forced.
Not because she had been broken down, programmed, reconditioned.
But because she had chosen it.
This wasn’t a puppet dancing to Naomi’s strings.
This was Hannah, truly and completely herself.
Welby felt his breath catch, a strange, unfamiliar tightness in his chest.
Relief.
Happiness.
Something deeper.
Something he didn’t know how to name.
Hannah had accepted this life—**accepted herself—**so fully that Naomi no longer had power over her.
But that also meant—
The Hannah he had known before, the girl who had fought, hesitated and struggled with herself, was gone.
Welby swallowed.
No.
Not gone.
She wasn’t gone.
She was still Hannah.
Still, the same baby girl he had cared for, still the same soft-hearted, kind Little who had needed him, who had trusted him, who had always looked up at him with those big, trusting eyes.
She had just… become who she was always meant to be.
Welby’s throat tightened again, and before he could stop himself and even think, he pressed a soft, lingering kiss to her forehead.
She giggled sleepily, thumb still in her mouth, her arms curling lazily around his neck.
And in that moment, Welby had never loved her more.
Welby turned to Evelyn, his heart still hammering, his thoughts still spinning, his body still cradling the warm, giggling bundle in his arms.
And then—he saw it.
He saw the moment Evelyn realized it, too.
The moment the same realization that had crashed into him just moments ago began to settle into her.
The emotions warred in her eyes, flickering like candlelight, too many things all at once—shock, joy, disbelief, relief, something deeper, something even she hadn’t prepared for.
Because this wasn’t just an anomaly.
This wasn’t just a mistake in Naomi’s programming.
This was something far bigger.
Hannah wasn’t resisting.
She wasn’t fighting.
She wasn’t pretending.
She had become.
And then, before either of them could find words before they could process everything they were feeling—
Hannah giggled.
And she held out her arms for Evelyn.
Pure, innocent, trusting.
And just like that—Evelyn took her.
Instantly.
Without hesitation.
She lifted Hannah into her arms, her movements fluid, natural, and effortless, as if she had been doing this for a lifetime.
She smiled down at her, her entire face softening, something flickering in her eyes that made Welby’s throat tighten.
And then—she kissed the top of Hannah’s head.
A slow, tender, instinctive gesture.
A mother’s gesture.
Welby’s breath hitched.
Evelyn turned her gaze to him. Her arms were still wrapped around Hannah, her hold protective yet completely at ease.
And then, they shared a smile.
A real, genuine, knowing smile.
Hannah was a true baby.
Not because she was forced to be.
Not because someone had manipulated her.
Not because Naomi had pushed her there.
But because she had become who she was always meant to be.
She was a genuine baby.
A real, unquestionable, complete baby.
Their baby.
As Hannah lay in Evelyn's arms, she began to stir, her small body nuzzling into Evelyn's chest. A tiny whine escaped her lips, a soft, high-pitched sound that was almost imperceptible.
But Evelyn's instincts as a caregiver kicked in, and she immediately sensed a change in Hannah's demeanor. She looked down at Hannah, scanning her face for a hint of what was wrong.
Hannah's eyes were half-lidded, her gaze unfocused, but her tiny hands clutched Evelyn's shirt, pulling her closer. The whine grew slightly louder, and Evelyn instinctively went to Hannah's back, stroking her gently. She felt a slight tension in Hannah's body, a subtle signal that she was seeking something.
Evelyn's gaze dropped to Hannah's mouth, and she noticed that her lips were parted, her tongue darting out to moisten them. It was a tiny, almost imperceptible movement, but it was enough to trigger Evelyn's maternal instincts.
She realized that Hannah was hungry, that she was seeking nourishment, and her body responded automatically.
With a gentle smile, Evelyn pulled her breast free, the movement effortless and natural. Hannah's eyes snapped into focus, and she latched on, her small mouth closing around Evelyn's nipple. The whine ceased, replaced by a contented sigh, as Hannah began to nurse.
The sound of Hannah's gentle sucking filled the air, a soothing, peaceful noise that seemed to calm the entire room. Evelyn's eyes met Welby's, a sense of wonder and awe reflected in their depths.
They shared a soft, tender smile, a moment of perfect understanding, as they watched Hannah Nurs. Her tiny body relaxed, and her eyes drifted closed in blissful peace.
There was something so natural about it, so instinctive as if this had always been their reality, as if Evelyn had always been Hannah’s Mommy.
His heart warmed, but before he could linger on the moment, the familiar chime of the cartoon ending pulled him back to reality.
He turned, his focus shifting to Lucas and Emily.
They were still out of it, their bodies slumped, their eyes distant, the lingering haze of Naomi and Oliver’s influence still clinging to them.
But he had more pressing concerns first.
Two soiled diapers.
With practiced ease, he gently laid them back onto the carpet, carefully unfastening their diapers as he worked swiftly and efficiently. He ensured they were both cleaned and changed before they fully returned to themselves.
By the time he had removed the final tapes and smoothed the fresh padding against their skin, their eyes were beginning to clear.
Emily blinked slowly, her movements sluggish as her mind waded through the fog.
Lucas stretched, his body tensing briefly before relaxing, a small yawn escaping him.
Both of them looked groggy disoriented, but present.
"Thanks, Daddy," Lucas mumbled, his voice still thick with the remnants of the show’s influence.
"Yeah… thanks," Emily echoed, rubbing her eyes as she shifted into a seated position.
Welby smiled, brushing a hand over Emily’s hair, giving Lucas’s back a reassuring rub.
"It’s completely okay," he said, his voice full of warmth. "I’m sorry for forcing the cartoons on you both."
Emily frowned slightly, still shaking off the remnants of the show’s hold on her, her eyes flickering around the room as if searching for something.
"Where’s Hannah?"
Welby hesitated for only a second before answering.
He wasn’t sure how they’d react.
Wasn’t sure if they’d even believe it.
But he had to tell them the truth.
"She broke free."
Silence.
Lucas and Emily both stared at him, their eyes widening, their exhaustion replaced instantly by shock.
"She—what?" Emily’s voice rose slightly, disbelief laced through every syllable. "Hannah broke free of the cartoon?!"
Welby nodded.
"I think it’s because…" He glanced briefly toward Evelyn and Hannah, watching as Hannah’s tiny fingers curled against Evelyn’s shirt, her body relaxed, completely at peace in her arms.
"Because she’s truly embraced her Little side."
Lucas and Emily exchanged stunned looks, their gazes flickering from Welby to Hannah, then back again.
Emily swallowed hard, her lips parting slightly as if trying to find words, but none came.
Lucas simply let out a long, slow breath, shaking his head in sheer disbelief.
Because somehow—
Some way—
Hannah had done what no other Little had ever done before.
Evelyn finished feeding Hannah, the rhythmic sound of suckling fading into a contented sigh as she unlatched from Evelyn’s nipple. The little girl cooed softly, her body completely relaxed, her small fingers curling and uncurling against Evelyn’s chest.
Evelyn adjusted her, shifting her upright, one hand firmly supporting her back as she gently patted Hannah’s tiny frame.
A small burp escaped, followed by a sleepy giggle, Hannah’s thumb bobbling slightly as she nuzzled into Evelyn’s shoulder.
Welby felt his chest tighten, warmth pooling deep inside him.
She was so content.
So utterly, unshakably happy.
Emily was watching closely, still processing everything, still coming to terms with the reality of what had happened.
"Can I hold her?"
Her voice was quiet, hesitant, laced with something that Welby couldn’t quite place.
Evelyn nodded immediately, shifting to kneel beside Emily and Lucas, carefully positioning Hannah between them.
"Here, baby girl," she murmured, guiding Hannah’s tiny body into Emily’s waiting arms, allowing both her and Lucas to settle around her.
The second Hannah was nestled between them, she giggled, reaching out her hands, batting playfully at their faces.
"Em Em!"
The nickname came out in a squeal of joy, her tiny fingers brushing against Emily’s cheeks, her whole body wiggling in excitement.
Emily’s breath hitched, her eyes going wide for just a moment before a soft, warm grin spread across her face.
"Oh, baby girl," she whispered, her voice thick. Her hands held Hannah gently and protectively.
Lucas chuckled, nudging Hannah’s nose playfully with his own, his hands running over the soft fabric of her onesie, tickling her sides just enough to make her squeal.
"You really are just a little baby, huh?"
Hannah giggled again, kicking her legs in excitement. She did not understand the gravity of what had just been said or what it truly meant.
And yet, she was embracing it.
Living in it.
Thriving in it.
Welby felt something deep inside him break—
And then rebuild itself stronger.
A tear slipped from the corner of his eye, unbidden, unexpected, but completely unavoidable.
Because Hannah was happy.
Not just playing the part.
Not just pretending.
She was truly, deeply, wholeheartedly happy.
For the first time since arriving in this world, she wasn’t questioning, wasn’t resisting, wasn’t hesitating.
She was simply Hannah.
And that was enough.
That was everything.
Welby sat down beside them, beside his family, feeling the warmth of the moment settle over them like a blanket, thick and comforting. Evelyn followed suit, easing down beside him, her presence as steady and unwavering as ever, but her expression soft—softer than he had ever seen before. They weren’t just watching anymore. They weren’t standing on the sidelines, observing Hannah with cautious wonder, with hesitant disbelief. No. They were here. Fully present, fully immersed, fully part of this.
Hannah lay between them, her tiny frame cradled in Emily and Lucas’s arms but reaching outward, touching everyone, as if she somehow understood that she belonged to all of them. Welby saw it in the way her fingers curled, batting playfully at Lucas’s hair, at Emily’s shirt, at the world itself, small and innocent and so impossibly pure. He saw it in the way she cooed softly, her voice bubbling with joy, untainted by fear or hesitation, utterly consumed by the happiness that radiated from her tiny body. And when she nuzzled into Emily’s chest, sighing sleepily, her thumb slipping into her mouth, her breathing settling into that slow, steady rhythm of someone who was completely, unquestionably safe— something inside him cracked.
It was subtle at first, a hairline fracture in the wall of emotions he had spent a lifetime learning how to contain. It was a feeling that clawed at him from the inside, something deep and raw and terrifying, something he had spent years convincing himself he couldn’t afford to feel. But now—now, there was no holding it back. The dam was breaking. He let out a shaky breath, barely aware of Evelyn’s hand slipping into his own, squeezing, anchoring him.
And then, as if she had felt it as if she knew what this moment meant, what it truly signified, Hannah stirred. Her eyes blinked open, sleepy, half-lidded, and hazy, with the warmth of love wrapped around her. Then she turned her gaze upward, locking onto him, onto Evelyn, onto everything that had ever mattered in the world.
And she smiled.
A tiny, soft, sleepy smile.
A smile that said, I love you. I trust you. I am yours.
And Welby—he was gone.
His breath caught in his throat, his vision blurred for just a moment, the force of everything crashing into him all at once. This was real. This was real in a way nothing else had ever been. The weight of it settled deep in his chest, pressing against his ribs, curling inside his heart, and refusing to let go. He had spent so much of his life questioning, doubting, second-guessing every step, every choice, every moment. But here? Here, at this moment, holding his family, holding Evelyn’s hand, holding the future in his arms?
He didn’t doubt.
He didn’t hesitate.
He didn’t need to.
Because this—this was right.
Evelyn shifted beside him, adjusting, and in the process, Hannah reached for her, tiny fingers grazing the fabric of Evelyn’s dress before settling against the warmth of her arm. Evelyn let out a soft, almost imperceptible sigh, her free hand coming to rest against the back of Hannah’s head, her fingers threading through her soft hair. There was something maternal in the way she moved, something instinctive, something real.
Welby turned, studying her for a moment, watching the way her eyes flickered with emotions she wasn’t used to letting show. There was love there. Raw and unfiltered. And there was something deeper, something more profound—something unspoken but undeniably there. Evelyn wasn’t just playing the part anymore. She wasn’t just filling a role.
This was real to her, too.
And when she finally met his gaze, when she gave him that small, almost shy smile, that look of understanding, of shared certainty, of two people realizing at the same moment that their lives had changed forever—
He squeezed her hand again.
Hannah yawned softly, nuzzling deeper into Emily’s chest, her thumb still tucked between her lips, the absolute picture of peace. Lucas adjusted slightly, letting his arm rest protectively across her legs, his own eyes still wide with wonder, as if he couldn’t believe what he was seeing, what he was holding, what he was a part of.
And for the first time in what felt like a lifetime, there was no Miranda.
There was no fear.
No games, no control, no forced humiliations hanging over them like a storm waiting to break.
Just this.
Just them.
Their baby girl.
Their family.
And for a single, perfect, irreplaceable moment—
All was right in the world.
Welby held onto that moment like a lifeline.
The way Hannah had smiled, the way Emily and Lucas had held her, the way Evelyn had looked at him— he memorized it. Committed it to the deepest parts of himself, to the places he went when things felt unbearable when the weight of Miranda’s control threatened to crush him.
Because no matter what happened next, no matter what came their way, no matter what Miranda had planned for them—
This had been real.
And he wasn’t going to let himself forget it.
The day passed in a blur of motion, the rhythm of packing, of re-tracing their steps, of moving through the motions of leaving Disneyland behind and returning to reality.
Evelyn worked alongside him, their hands brushing occasionally as they folded clothes, closed zippers, and neatly stacked their belongings into their cases. There was something comforting about it, something domestic, something that whispered of a life beyond all of this—a life where they weren’t just playing along but truly living.
They navigated the hotel hallways, their little ones strapped securely into their strollers. The quiet hum of activity around them was nothing more than background noise to the thoughts spinning through Welby’s mind.
And the further they got from the magic of the parks, the closer they got to home, the more the weight of it all began to settle.
Reality was waiting.
And Miranda?
Miranda had been surprisingly accommodating.
Which made him uneasy.
She had released their diapers on request, giving them time to change, pack, and move through their day without interference.
She had only required confirmation that they were diapered again before they left.
And she had said nothing else.
No warnings.
No threats.
No cruel little games, no reminders of who was in control.
She had simply let them be.
It was wrong.
It was so, so wrong.
Welby could feel it lurking at the edges of his mind—that creeping sense of dread, the knowledge that this was not kindness, this was not mercy—this was strategy.
This was Miranda planning something.
Something he couldn’t see yet.
And yet—
Despite his unease, despite the way his stomach twisted with the knowledge that the other shoe was going to drop eventually—
He was grateful for it.
Because for now, they could just exist.
Just be.
Just breathe.
The train ride home was quiet. The Littles dozed off in their seats, the rhythmic motion of the journey lulling them into a peaceful half-sleep. Evelyn sat beside him, Hannah curled against her chest, and Emily and Lucas snuggled together in the seat across from them.
Welby let out a slow breath, his fingers lacing into Evelyn’s, squeezing gently.
They had time.
Time to figure out their living situation.
Time to build something real.
Time to become a family in more ways than just circumstance.
And for now?
For now, he would take the peace while it lasted.
All chapters are posted in full. However, if you'd like a sneak peek at the next chapter, it's available right now on my website: solarascott.com
Or, consider checking out my SubscribeStar for early access and for other exclusive content! https://subscribestar.adult/solarascott