Corwin

So, I seem to have drawn some stalkers to this board. For the handful of users who may have been interested in my previous writing, I stopped because someone sent my information to my co-workers. So many months back I got the lovely experience of professional and personal lives colliding in a fashion that sent me back into my depression, and removed all desire to continue to post here. At least under this pseudonym. And since my extended circle now includes a real live human being with this name, I’m going to retire it. I’ll probably return under a new name in time, since I do have some creative fantasies that I’ve wanted to get out. And to you toxic assholes, do whatever you want with this. Concern for my well-being hasn’t stopped you so far, why should it start now? You were expecting it anyway, though I bet it’ll look different from how it was, “rehearsed.” *** “So what they did is technically called, “unmasking,” said the man on the computer screen, “Doxing would have been spreading your personal information publicly after strongly linking it to your account, while here they sought out your professional connections and revealed your online handle,” he chuckled, “You must have really pissed someone off.” I sat numb. “I trusted them,” I said quietly, almost too low to be caught by the mic, “They were my closest friends- practically family. We were discussing some intimate topics, and I thought they were Safe,” emotions swirled. Betrayal. Grief. Depression. Shame. RAGE “I’d like to just finish the meeting,” I said numbly, and replaced my business mask. Behind my eyes, however, the thoughts continued. The thoughts never stop. A man I would have otherwise referred-to as, “my brother,” slipped LSD into my food Sunday, February 18th, 2018. He followed this with the most psychologically damaging event I’d ever experienced. He took advantage of my disability, a frontal lobe condition I’d had since childhood. It causes problems with emotional regulation, executive functioning, and memory, though mostly “just” prospective and working memory. He took me to various locations inside and outside the house, telling me one thing in one room, and contradictory things in another. One time he even referenced the fact that the brain refreshes itself on crossing a threshold to another room, and that he intended to take advantage of that, because my brain probably handled it poorly. After he said his peace, he refused to discuss it further, or seriously entertain my protests.. Instead, he came prepared with books, TV shows, or movies that he knew I enjoyed, or planned to read/watch/listen to, and had even found scripts of those yet to be released, and would only speak to me using snippets of the script, finally resorting to just speaking the script straight without trying to find something that fit with my questions. Elizabeth and the others joined in, trying to claim that I would remember the time as just when me and my closest friends were watching TV or going to the movies. But every time I asked them to stop reading scripts to me, and actually watch the shows, they directly refused. Other times, they were actually watching those shows on someone’s (Hal or Con’s, I believe) mobile device, listening in with wireless earbuds (Which were a new toy they were using to try to trick me in various ways) while taking care to angle the screen (And ear with the ear bud in) away from my view, to make it more difficult for me to figure out what was going on. I pointed out that they were more watching these shows at me than with me, but they didn’t care. Many, many times, in the years that followed, I would encounter a show with a specific scene, where a given line was delivered in a way that matched how one of those assholes said it to me, and I’m back in that weekend. And for the longest time, I haven’t really sought treatment for trauma, or PTSD. Partially because I was already seeing a therapist, but largely because of how Elizabeth asked- demanded- that I interpret the event favorably, emphasizing that I couldn’t consider it to be a trauma, or we’d “never be able to be a family.” That concept, being able to consider those 4 (Though, to be honest, I wasn’t sure about Hal even then) family, was- is- very important to me. I was most-of-the-way there when they started in on me. I already considered Con to be my brother, and Hobo and Elizabeth? Well, we’d spent the past several years visiting them on a regular basis, every other month or so, and thought we were getting very close, perhaps approaching that level of trust. And before then, for years after I graduated college in the mid-aughts, Con and I would spend alternate months visiting, him coming down to us, or Wifey and myself visiting him and his wife, before he divorced, and the regular visits became far more sporadic. We purchased a house in 2016, and my life almost immediately fell apart. The other man I consider my brother, and the one I lived with for 10 years after college, was diagnosed with stage-4 colon cancer, and given less than 50% chance of making it another 5 years. Additionally, my sister’s family had been housing her wife’s mother, who had advanced lung cancer. In 2017, she passed away, and I did my best to help with arrangements, running errands, and keeping my niece distracted. During all this, I did everything I could to keep in touch with those people, as they truly were my closest friends, my “favorite people,” as Elizabeth put it that fateful night in 2018. When my wife and I got the house, we’d always intended to have people over more often, and at a party in 2016, “celebrating” Cain’s survival of the initial cancer-treatment surgeries, I gave keys to Con and his partner, Hal, as well as one to Hobo and Elizabeth (Or Lizzy as I knew her then). I recall apologizing that I didn’t have a bigger todo, but we’d already given a key to Cain and his partner, and I wanted to have a bright celebration and try to cement the bond between us all before cancer started tearing us apart. They were welcome in my house at any time, and I wanted everyone there to know I would always be there for them, though Cain might have more of my attention at the time. We still visited Hobo and Beth on an almost-regular basis, though I now recognize that I was running from my problems: A house I didn’t know how to fix, a friend dying of cancer, and a job I didn’t really care for. When my SIL’s mother passed, I spent a lot of the summer with my sister’s family, but I still tried to visit Hobo and Lizzy at least once every time I was up. The one time I failed in that end, when my sister took me to an amusement park, later turned into an issue, or was claimed to be contributory to the President’s Day Weekend event. I don’t even know what words to use to describe it. Beth called it, “The Rite of Zelda,” and after she saw how poorly I was taking it, hid behind Con, who turned far more sinister than I’d ever known, calling his “game,” a, “Thought bomb.” My friends like using literary tricks and memes to communicate, and so do I, I suppose. I don’t know how they’re referring to the event, I remember Beth saying they’d call it just, “This.” “So that’s why I’m seeking therapy,” I said to the neutral-faced man in the comfortable chair before me, looking strangely like David Cronenberg, “I now realize I’ve basically been experiencing PTSD for the past 4 and a half years, and have been lying to myself about it.” “Well, it’s never too late to reach out for help,” David- or rather, Dr. Kovich- explained, calmly making a note on a tablet before him, “And you’ve touched on the event, and given some background, but this isn’t actually therapy. You’re in a construction of your own mind, and have conjured myself, a highly intelligent, professional psychiatrist, to act as a foil for you to relate your experiences, so I can’t allow you to lie to yourself, given my character as you know it.” I sat mutely in my imagination, surroundings futuristic with an inappropriate level of bloom from the holographic displays, and a wide window looking over an enclosed shipyard drydock with starships from anachronistically unrelated worlds docked inside. The screens and displays were further anachronisms, showing flashes and snippets of some of the other thoughts always running through my mind. One was playing a repeat of a techno song, another was showing frames from an early 21st century adventure game, though most were presently displaying text as I finally found a moment where the words just flew onto the page. One wall was missing, however, and looked into a black void where several figures sat in shadow, postures ranging from exultant- straight back and clearly pleased-, to slouched and depressed. Possibly crying, from the shaking shoulders, but few features could be gleaned from the figures in shadow. I had worked hard to force them behind the walls, and the mute was operating better than it had in a while. I hated describing the details. I had already re-lived the event countless numbers of times, albeit in short, second-to-minute-long spans. Or worst, when one of those assholes had revealed some of the recordings they had made during that event, when I told them things in confidence, to someone I knew in life (Be it my co-workers or family) and it was like I was just dunked into a frozen pool, shocked to be presented with a reminder of that event. The rest of the time, my mind was largely locked in an argument that was long over, if not for the fact that my brain could not comprehend or accept the details and railed against the truth. “People I thought I could trust implicitly planned a deliberately hurtful event disguised as a game- sequence of games, even, all intended to shape my future behavior in relation to them against my consent. Because they disguised their true intentions, I didn’t understand the significance of their stated plans until it was far too late, and by the time I realized my closest-friends-almost-family were no longer in that classification, I’d already given too much. I came out as ABDL, explained my fetish, and over the next few years, they outed me to all my other friends, family and co-workers. Each time, I was surprised, because I thought I was doing as they asked, and still walking towards some nebulous future where we could be considered family, when I was blindsided by people who should have no knowledge of my inner thoughts and desires, and expressing scorn and disapproval. “There seems to be a split among the original participants. After some days or weeks of me defending myself from things I had thought were private, my assailants would suddenly back off, apologize, or otherwise hard stop any discussion on the topic of my personal life. A couple have told stories that seem to point towards Elizabeth coming clean on everything they did to me (confessing?), to the point that my coworkers have decried my former friends as amoral.” “And such social disapproval from those individuals you still do trust makes it more difficult to imagine a positive outcome, or believe that they have any intent to make amends.” Dr. Kovich said as I trailed off. I grunted, “They tried to warn me that they’d be doing toxic things like that, but the warning was buried in layers of, “If you do X before Y date, we’ll do this, but after, we’ll do Z,” which were themselves buried in the constant flashbacks I experienced just trying to get through my day. Listen to music, oop, that’s one of the many tracks they related to me as they listened. This one they used to tear my self-confidence to shreds- tears. Oh, this one I listened to with Beth while she was acting like she adored me- more tears. I was certain there were things I could do to get them to come back and apologize, or something, but I could never put my mind on it, and every time I latched onto something I thought would work, they responded by attacking me through my associates. “The worst part was that I agreed to do… things. Stuff with my old college friends, but that they would never remind me about- I had to remember everything without any of my coping strategies and all I could think about for years was that 3-day weekend, and the arguments and attacks and my pleas to them to stop. But it was all related to them, I couldn’t- didn’t- remember the specifics, even when I really needed to. So as time passed in the real world, I was suddenly getting yelled at by my college friends too. I believe they expected me to just drive by and hang out, which was how I used to act as an adolescent, but, well… I couldn’t think about any positive activity. I kinda- no, I really needed people to come to me. But I didn’t know how to express that. And I was so deep in depression that cleaning the house and making it ready for guests wasn’t happening. We had Cain and Sho over semi-regularly though- Until the pandemic.” “Which was a trauma all its own,” offered Dr Kovich. I nodded mutely. “And that was when they outed me to my coworkers. Or rather, discovered those with whom I have regular meetings, and directed them to some stories I’d written on the Daily Diapers forum, and- Well, at least most of my co-workers are good people, they caught on that I was being attacked by these assholes, and started keeping things strictly business. Which is okay, but- Now I can’t talk about anything personal with those guys anymore.” I stared blankly for some time, “So now I don’t really have any friends, and I can’t help but think, with anyone new, ‘How am I going to mess it up with this one? How long before I forget something they really needed me to do, and they realize I’m just a fuckup? Or how long before Con finds them and starts pretending to be a big powerful manipulator, and gets someone else to denigrate me? “I need to stop you there,” the Doctor interrupted me, “You’re being unfair with yourself, and you’re not mentioning the server full of individuals who have been quite supportive these past few years.” I scoffed, “Oh yeah, discord! I have no idea how to tell a couple of them that I remember the phone call when Lizzy put them on speaker, and discussed….. Things. Things which I don’t remember the specifics of, but I remember their voices! Of course, my wife remembers none of it, and has taken the least-resistance path and labeled the entire group as toxic, abusive assholes that she wants nothing more to do with, and expresses disbelief and a lack of understanding that I do.. Still… with 2 of them, at least. So don’t want to push and force her to know the details that some friends were in actuality introduced to us (me) first on Presidents day weekend, 2018. They’ve been really good people to us, and I don’t want her to label them as ‘bad’ just because of their tangential involvement in… my trauma.” “Good for you!” Dr Kovich exclaimed, “Recognizing that it was traumatic is an excellent step. And realizing that not everyone you meet wants to hurt you is a good second step. For now, I understand not informing your wife of that detail, it would only serve to hurt both of you, and for little reason.” “I mean,” I began, “I know the assholes are still… somehow involved. Maybe. I guess I’m not sure, but some of the decisions I made in my latest D&D character are partially in line with some of the discussions I remember on Saturday night, and the DM made some comments that fell in line too, but that’s another problem I’ve been facing! I’ve been thinking that it was ‘over’ countless times the past 4 years, that they’d be coming down to visit, like, just, any day.” “I think,” Dr. Kovich began, “You should ask yourself if you even want them to make that grand apology.” “I,” I began, “I-” I said again. I looked down to the white floor. A couple tears fell, “I don’t know. The vision I saw of us as a family, of a large polycule, was- beautiful. But some of the things they’ve done are just wrong, and can’t be fixed by a simple apology. And now-” I took a heaving breath and signed, “I know I couldn’t let myself relax around them anymore, not unless there’s also a frank and in depth discussion on, heh- consent, negotiation, aftercare- What the appropriate social response to someone deliberately causing a mental/emotional trauma might be.” I shook my head, “But I’m pretty sure they don’t actually want that, or would even be willing to confront their actions in such a fashion.” “I’m not so sure,” the Doctor replied, “Perhaps your thoughts shouldn’t be grouping them as a monolith. From what you’ve said, certain individuals are still toxic, while others seem to be less so.” I grunted, “Maybe. I can’t consider Con to be my brother any longer, and that makes me think I shouldn’t overextend myself like that to anyone but my real family.” “Trusting others is not a character flaw. Deceitfulness, however, is,” came another voice, this one femanine with a slight mechanical clicking and ratcheting just behind her words. The window overlooking the shipyard rippled in a green fractal, and a short woman with curly blonde hair, dressed in a magnificent floor length red gown, stepped through. She had a slightly upturned nose and lipstick that matched her dress. She stopped on this side of the window as the green fractal reformed the view to the stardock, and raised an arm appraisingly, before looking down at the dress. She caught my eye and cocked her head silently, her expression and posture clearly depicting her question, “Really?” I shrugged, “It’s the brightest image I have of you. And I like it better than the creepy black armor.” Jurati’s eyes, whites iris and all, turned a matte black, “Very well,” she said flatly, “Congratulations on completing this ahead of schedule,” she looked up, appraising all that I’ve written so far, “Go back up and see what you can improve. Add more descriptions, emotional content. Scenery,” the queen’s face broke into a sinister smile, “That I can chew,” she looked to that transparent wall and the figures inside, “There’s no need to rush. Though, do watch your OPSEC, your habit of giving away the keys to the castle won’t help here. But add in more background. Maybe reveal a little more on how your thoughts move,” Queen Jurati looked me in the eye, and her black eyes faded back to human irises, “Maybe scenes from your last high, if you can remember them,” she flashed a genuine smile before her eyes returned to black and she looked back to the 4th wall. The queen stood motionless for a moment, a mechanical trilling just barely audible, before shifting suddenly into movement. She strode to the transparent 4th wall, her right hand held at shoulder-height, idly trailing along the wall as she casually sauntered across the room. Where her fingers touched, little green sparks of energy danced along the wall and displays. The nearest display flashed eerie green and displayed a rectangular window with small green text scrolling rapidly past before returning to display a man wearing a stone helmet with green and turquoise crystals embedded at the top, and wearing light plate armor. As the queen sauntered past, the man on the screen charged and fired a wide beam of azure light at two towering giants. Little green sparks of energy danced along the queen’s right arm, starting at her fingertips, and dancing up to her shoulder. In their wake, the queen’s arm transformed from pale, soft human skin to a sleek matte black armor that continued under the sleeve of her gown. She stopped and turned to face me for a moment, an enigmatic smile on her face, “However, I like the armor.” her smile faded as she stepped up to the transparent wall looking into the black void and 4 figures inside. She lay her hand on the transparent surface, and little sparks of white interference spat around the outline of her splayed fingers. The queen’s face broke into another smile, this one more predatory than before. I turned back to Dr. Kovich, who shrugged, “Well, you’re obviously sending a message. The throwaway account insulates you somewhat.” “We’re not using the throwaway,” Queen Jurati purred, still facing away from Dr Kovich and I, “It will be a more effective message from the established profile, and will make your introductory statement about abandoning this profile hold more weight.” I shook my head, “I know I’m sending a message, but I don’t really know what that message is. Or should be. And I don’t know how to shape it to say what I want. And once I hit post, I can’t control how they receive it-” I shook my head ruefully, “I have been horribly wrong whenever I’ve tried to predict how they’ll respond to my overtures. I don’t know how they’ll respond. I know how I’d like one of them to respond. I suspect two of the others will react negatively, and I’ll have to live with that. And Hobo… I haven’t seen or heard anything at all from him, so- I don’t know. But I can’t maintain the current course. Even if this post is another thing that we discussed- They discussed,” I trailed off, while one of the displays behind me flashed a flow chart with too many paths ending in question marks. “You’ve made progress if you’re able to recognize that you can’t control the message after it’s sent,” Dr. Kovich said while to my left, the queen sighed and dropped her hand before turning to me, her eyes again human with brown irises. She took several quick steps to my chair, and tenderly lifted my chin to meet my eyes. “Your memory is better than you express to the world,” Jurati said softly, “Yes, they attempted to predict your actions well into the future, and provided a scaffold for your actions based on your mutual desires, to good and ill, even this post. But the words are your own and it is still your choice.” She smiled gently then, “Don’t dwell on the uncertainties, focus on your decisions.” I nodded and she turned back to the 4th wall, but made no move to approach, “So, Mare is getting a tune up right now. And Friday I have off. I’m going for a drive. I’d really appreciate it if- if I could get a suggestion of a destination. I vaguely remember Lizzy’s worst-case scenario post, and while I don’t want her to completely unmask herself or the others, but- If you still, truely, just want me to show up at the house, can you please give me a little bit more obvious of a clue to that end? I’m afraid that I’m reading too much into your hints and themes, and I can’t be certain,” I laughed ruefully, turning my chair now to address the black wall and figures within, “Executive dysfunction. It’s like clues that count as a 10 to a normal brain are evaluated to- maybe 3- in mine. Don’t even get me started on how I can’t show anything to Wifey to say, ‘Look! See? They’re not all awful, the Insulators want to apologize!’ when my only reason for it is a series of poorly connected experiences that relate back to that weekend. And I’ve been called ‘crazy’ enough times that I just avoid the topic.” “Will you actually wait this time?” came a woman’s alto voice. The queen’s head snapped to the shorter of the four figures, and a feral grin began on her face. She took slow, languid steps towards the wall now, eyes back to the matte black. “Hah, yeah. Sorry. I saw Hobo’s- eyes, heard you two whisper something, and then banging deeper in the house, away from the door… I realized that I wasn’t quite certain what I wanted to say to you beyond the general repeating of your actions several years past, coupled with the realization that I was probably not going to be able to talk to you, not really, but just you acting a part. Or something. I also remembered how much pressure everyone in my life has been putting on me to conclude that you guys are awful, and that I had a 3 hour drive ahead of me anyway, and not knowing what I was going to say to Wifey- And the last thing was a fear that I was about to hear you screaming, ‘Go away,’ and just Couldn’t, so I walked away berating myself for my continued naive stupidity.” “Oh,” the figure said simply. After a moment, and several halting glances at the eerily smiling, blonde-haired Borg queen, she continued, “So, pretend I’m not just a representation of Lizzy, but Lizzy herself- Do you have anything to say to me?” I smiled, then frowned, “I suppose. Uhm-” I looked deeply into the black void, “Do you really want to consider me and mine family? Do you really want me to consider you and yours the same? If so- what’s the next step? Because, something has to change. Please,” I laughed as something occurred to me, “You have something to apologize for,” I said firmly. Her expression was still shrouded in darkness, but her shoulders seemed to lift, “Oh!” she chirped, “Oh good. I- You’ll get something. Probably. If I know myself, I’ve been waiting for this.” I shook my head ruefully, turning back to Dr Kovich, “And there’s another thing. After that event, I still get this feeling in the back of my head like I can hear her thoughts. And maybe she can mine, though- I can barely handle hearing my thoughts, I can't imagine it would be pleasant for anyone else,” I gritted my teeth, and wiped my hands down my face, “Ugh, this is just a stupid fever dream about a foolish fantasy, I should just delete it and go back to trying to forget them.” “You won’t,” Queen Jurati said, her eyes not leaving the figures behind the wall, “We have already begun an editing and elaboration pass, and the names have been masked. You’ll be able to post this as you sign out of work, and they’ll have over 12 hours to respond before you leave for your… drive,” her smile widened and showed teeth, “Which I think is quite generous, given the circumstances. In fact,my dear, please do another pass, add more scenery, adjust character posture and language to express emotion more fully. And stop describing my teeth,” she glanced from the shorter femanine figure to myself, “Just add some more interaction. They’ll only know the final product, not the revisions it went through.” The queen stopped mere inches from the wall, eyes black and unreadable as she stood statue-still, watching. Observing. I looked from the wall to the queen and to Dr. Kovich, and back to the shorter figure within the void, and scooted my chair to the left side corner, where the transparent wall met the solid one at a 90° angle. In the void, I saw her shift positions to match, raising her left hand and pressing her palm against the wall. I did the same with my right, our palms almost touching, while still separated by miles. I leaned forward so that my forehead was almost touching the wall, and she mirrored the movement, giving us the illusion of privacy. “Hey,” I said simply. “Hey,” she replied, “Do you hate me?” I looked significantly at our hands, “Not at all,” I chuckled, “Been coloring an emotion wheel when I get inspired. It legitimately helps,” I was quiet for a moment, then an impression of motion from my right caught my eye, and I turned my head to see that I had caught the green sparkles moving under the queen’s dress. I realized that the red pumps Jurati wore on her feet to match the gown had morphed to knee high, leather boots. “They’re more comfortable,” Queen Jurati remarked, noticing my attention, “If I have to be adorned in this gown, I will at least have more familiar and comfortable footwear. Keep talking, you need it.” “Heh. I’ve been pretend-talking to you for years now,” I said ruefully. “Same,” she replied, “But the first years weren’t exactly cogent, were they?” “Gibbering fear?” I asked, “A sine-wave of hope for the past few years. And a ton of confusion.” “Thanks for not completely unmasking me,” Beth said, her voice quavering slightly, “I’ve really grown to enjoy this community.” I nodded, finally letting my forehead touch the wall. It was cold, and yielded slightly to my touch. I was able to feel as Beth echoed my posture, “I’m not trying to attack. At least-” I glanced up for a moment at the other figures in the void before turning my attention to her shadowed face, “not-” I couldn’t complete the thought. “I know,” she replied, and I thought I could feel her smile, “You’re trying to get a proper target solution.” One of the screens behind me shifted to a scene of a drill sergeant in futuristic armor dressing down two servicemen on Newton’s first law of motion. I felt Beth’s glee and approval as she observed that scene zip through my head. “I still don’t want some war,” I continued, a different display switched to show a wide assembly with several groups of human and alien delegations sitting in groups clustered in an arc before a long table with 5 figures sitting in elaborate formal attire. A stiff-backed man in a dress military uniform with graying hair at his temples was addressing the assembly on a recent vote, decrying the results but begrudgingly accepting them at the same time. “I know,” she replied, “We- I- I never wanted any of this. It was supposed to be better, we didn’t understand- Please, we will be apologizing on your schedule, even if it doesn’t feel like it. I just need that first re-meeting to be where I know I’m safe, you know? You’ll be able to talk to me, I swear, I just- How many of the rehearsals do you remember?” I shook my head, “Fantasy and the trailing edges of an unexpected trip have muddied it. Those last scenes were a blur of worst-case and best-case. I was trapped between losing everything I ever knew, and gaining more than I’d ever imagined in my wildest fantasies.” “It’ll probably be somewhere in between,” Beth admitted, “I can’t possibly reach what you imagined while-” She stopped abruptly, and I could almost feel her shake her head, “No, I have a good idea what you were fantasizing, and even you didn’t exactly want that much, so it’ll probably be that fantasy, only purified and made authentic.” I snorted softly, “I’d love that.” “Really?” “Yeah. Wait- did you still want the whole, ‘around me all the time,’ thing?” “Yes,” she said enthusiastically, “That’s what I’ve been working for,” she paused, then asked more tentatively, “Did, er, do you?” “Yes. Don’t know how well it would work, given some of my potential plans for travel,” I sighed, “Things are no longer dire, but, well, as I tried to get a message out earlier this week, I have a story about a laser-” I paused, “Well, not technically a laser, but-” I sighed, my words not quite matching what I was trying to say, and bonked my forehead against the wall a couple times, “Talking face-to-face would be nice.” The queen seemed to sense my difficulty and cleared her throat in a mechanical cough that buzzed through the room, “I think that’s enough. We should wrap this up,” she said, staring deeply through the 4th wall, now clearly aiming her gaze at the tallest figure, and the shorter, stiff-backed figure next to them. "Promise me you haven't been hitting your head against any walls like that anymore, and I promise you'll get your more obvious clue!" Beth blurted out, her words running over each other to interrupt the queen. I thought for a moment, "That was the first time I've even done it in my imagination since- Can't remember the last time I did that for real. Not during the pandemic. Not since-" I trailed off and glanced at her figure in the void. She sat back, satisfaction evident in her posture, "That counts," she tilted her head up to observe the queen, and waved her hand languidly, as though granting her permission to proceed. Queen Jurati scoffed at Beth's motion, but smiled widely, "Oh you," she said before returning her gaze to the taller figure. She pressed her right hand against the wall, which no longer sprayed sparks but instead- yielded- like soft rubber, “We have wanted to say this since March,” her voice took on a deeper quality, as though multiple voices were speaking the same words in unison. She flexed her arm, and pushed her hand through the wall, the rest of her arm following, as though the wall was now just an imaginary threshold, “Though we have- adapted- it..” Until now, those two figures had been largely unresponsive, lounging on furniture equally shrouded in darkness, body language more-or-less unconcerned with the goings on on my side of the wall. As Queen Jurati pushed through, however, they became much more agitated, trying to get to their feet and away from the inexorable progress of the queen. The queen reached out with exaggerated casualness, barely impeded by the wall now, and clasped the wrist of the taller of the figures. He gave a high-pitched yelp and tried to pull away, only succeeding in assisting Jurati’s movement through the barrier. She stepped with her left foot, and her gait was ever so slightly slower than walking pace, so little did the barrier affect her movement, “Move backward to go forward,” a hundred voices intoned as the queen gripped more tightly, pulling the figure towards her as much as she was pulling herself towards him. He pulled again, and the darkness fled from his profile, revealing long, curly, dirty-blonde hair on a masculine face. She reached with her left hand, easily clearing the threshold as though no barrier impeded her, and clamped onto the stiff-backed figure's wrist. They made no sounds as they struggled with the queen’s grip “Mend the shattered,” Queen Jurati continued, her upper body and face just now crossing through the barrier, “The future is now.”

I figured I may as well update here, as it's the most on-topic, but a slight contrast from @Little Sherri's update... I've gone from 24/7 during the majority of the pandemic down to something like 18-7, which I suppose isn't that drastic of a change, but it speaks to how much this desire is still linked to my libido. As the days grow shorter and colder, I've always found myself less horny in total, and generally find myself "not in the mood," for a diaper more often. I still don't mess myself unless I'm otherwise inconvenienced- Or I want to- so the mornings, and when I'm drinking coffee, I'll stay diapered till things move, role-play a big boy, and then not change back. Depending on coffee and my diet, I might be visiting the can again soon anyway, so it's more convenient to simply stay commando. Sometimes, since it can be a hassle changing when I just want to quickly run out, or when the wife wants to do a quick "getaway" to get coffee. But, I've also grown to enjoy the feeling of wearing a diaper, and I absolutely love the convenience they provide. I'd much rather stay in my warm bed and wet my diaper, but I've known that forever. I've recently learned the ease of wearing a diaper during meetings, so I've found myself trying to arrange my coffee and subsequent toilet use to be complete before my morning meetings start. And since I control meetings now, that's quite easy! Now that I've gotten some daytime weight diapers, I'm more likely to change into one of them when it's the end of the day, but I'm also as likely to simply take a shower, fish out my underpants and quickly get dressed. I'm not going to stop by any means, and as Covid rages, I'm just reminding myself that I don't need to wear diapers (yet), and can wear-or-not as I feel like it. I don't quite remember where I first encountered the concept, but I've heard ABDL desires described as both sexual and sensual. I've recently been exploring that line, though my usual partner's libido has been hit quite hard by the ongoing crisis, so I suppose I've been leaning more on the sensuality angle more. The cold months mean the wife and I assemble a veritable bed of blankets on the couch, and snuggle together while playing games or watching TV. Working at home means we can rant about our work issues more easily, and it's common for one of us to ask the other for a hug as the day goes on. Maybe I'll get myself some pullups for quick trips...

On the topic of diaper stash, I've been using Tykables' "Diaper Box" for my supply, since Covid means I'm not leaving my house except for very short trips for which I can accommodate the sound/bulk. Though I'd ordered the "Base" level of absorbency, the majority of the summer saw my monthly box come packed with Tykables more-absorbent options (for which I am not complaining!). And because of this, I both lacked "daytime weight" options, and my stash dwindles to just a couple bags by the end of the month. And I'm using this Quarantine period to explore my desires (And distract myself from the stupid apocalypse). Because I didn't like the idea of not going to bed freshly-changed, I'd find that I was going commando for a couple hours in the evening, or finding a pair of underpants to save the new diaper for bedtime. Well, this month saw Tykables split the case into 4 bags of each "level" of absorbency, so that excuse is gone. Instead, I'm finding myself take more time off during the day because-well- I've started wetting the bed, and I'm finding it much easier to fully relax to wet during the day. Unlike a lot of other reports, I've had rather strong pelvic floor, and it's only recently, after wearing constantly for 9 months that I'm starting to see what others report in, like, 2 or 3. I still clench up when other people are around, but alone I'm seeing real progress on "releasing." However, I don't think that I want to be diaper dependent, I'm not putting myself through any "diaper training," (at the moment). I might go that way eventually, but the idea of needing to wear overnight is scary enough for my frequent (pre-covid) travel that I hope will become frequent again. So I suppose I'm making sure my potty training doesn't become too rusty despite still wanting to wear a diaper the majority of the time. I'm probably going to expand my options for something approaching a pullup, when the world opens up again, and figure out how travel works in a post-Covid world (whenever that comes).

I generally untape one side and slide it down. I'm using hook-and-loop at the moment, but even when I had taped diapers, I'd be able to carefully do the same. I don't like messing purely because of the cleanup afterwards, but on occasion I'm pre-occupied enough or aroused enough to go ahead and mess my diaper. I then try to get myself cleaned back up the moment I have time.

I consider myself a switch as well. I've been acting like a big strong man this summer playing nurse-maid to my wife after she had some surgical procedures, which I enjoy. I like making the people around me feel better, so I've been satisfied. But I also wish to be able to be "littler" than my wife really wants to play, and I do my best not to push her beyond her ability/desire. So I've just been wearing diapers under my clothes and focusing on taking care of myself when my wife can't. It is stressful to stay in one role too long, but sometimes that's what's necessary. The wheel turns and I know I'll find time to be little again. I hope you can find a better partner for your needs in the future!

I loved these 2 novels. Thank you. And so glad to hear the story's not over!

I'm one of those people who've had these desires since childhood. Since I can remember I wanted to be in diapers, and my baby book actually has a note, "Not at all interested in potty training." I'm using the stay-at-home orders to re-examine that training, haha. ?

Now entering week... 4, it appears. I updated my diaper-related activities in my little thread in lifestyles, but it's been a strange couple of weeks. Before the quarantine, I'd been visiting a local friend of mine on a regular (for me) basis. He has several problems that mean he can't enjoy video games like he used to, so I pack up my PS4 in it's little travel hardcase, and play Jedi: Fallen Order for him after work. Well, now that sort of "social activity" is out, but I really wanna share the game with him. So I've been in the process of setting myself up to stream, and we finally had our first successful session today. Admittedly it was interrupted by work calls, lasted maybe 30 minutes and him getting nauseous meant we had to end rather abruptly- But we got through the Kashyyyk intro, finally! Comms took some figuring, but we just decided on Discord, and all was fine. I've never had a huge circle of friends. But OMG, I've never wanted to visit people so much as when I'm told I can't. So I'm very happy for our modern communications infrastructure. A trickle of human contact is still human contact. And my wife and I are close, so we have each other for touch. We'll get through this. But it's taking... too.... long! You all be safe out there.

I have a Snow Leopard fuzzy fleece footed onesie from https://www.the-all-in-one-company.co.uk that I splurged on several years ago. It's essentially my telecommuting uniform when its cold. I work IT, and don't need people to see my face to do my job. So I've been wearing all the time, for the most part. Ordered another case from Tykables to keep supplies up, but I'm concerned with how long this could go on...

I mentioned in another thread that money has been tight for a while, and I've just been wearing at night. I didn't make any deliberate "stock up" orders because I wasn't planning on starting a 24/7 stint yet. This "Work from home for two weeks, maybe longer, starting in 3 days" period caught me by surprise. Luckily, however, I'd just purchased a case of Tykables overnights, so that will easily carry me through, and since my wife actually showed interest in another of Tykables' patterns, I'll grab a case of those to shore up my stock.

Whole office is on a mandatory "Work from Home" period for the next 2 weeks, and the bets are open about how long that gets extended. As far as indulging, I'm playing with a 24/7 while this WFH period lasts. My wife called attention to Tykables new "Pupper" diaper, so that's getting purchased once the tax return arrives...

This is an incredible story. I haven't even finished it, but I have to comment. Thank you so much for sharing this!