2011

I can,t get enough of this great story . I want to read more .   please .

19. Misinformation Management I arrived at Keppler pretty early, despite a slightly more leisurely walk than usual around the perimeter of the campus. I realised almost as soon as I arrived that I was nervous to let anyone see me; and somehow it felt that it would be easier if everyone was working, rather than joking around in the lobby. Of course, there were a couple of people there, competing for the top score on an original Pac-Man machine, which had appeared the week before. But they weren’t paying too much attention to me, so I went straight to the restrooms and tried to straighten myself up in the mirror. It felt weird. Every time I shook my head, I could feel that the weight of all my hair was no longer swishing behind me. I could admit that I did actually look good now; like a real businessman rather than a guy who didn’t know that his teens were over. The suit did suit me, when it wasn’t clashing with the various loud colours I had dyed my hair in the past. I knew that I looked good, but seeing that reflection made me think that it would be a long time before I actually saw that serious guy as ‘me’. “Wow,” Constantine said, flashing a smile in that direction as I actually entered the office. “New threads? I hope you’re not going to be dropping dad jokes all day.” “No worries,” I said. “Just checking out a new style.” I’d actually had shorter hair the day before as well, but until I changed the rest of my wardrobe nobody had said anything about it. “Dating someone who has a thing for older men?” he said, with a wink. “You can pull it off, dude. Just keep the music playing in your head.” “Right,” I answered, trying to work out if that was a reference to the sudden absence of punk or metal imagery on my person, or some deep joke that I didn’t get. Consty was a philosophy graduate who had landed here straight out of the ivory towers of academia, and there was a good chance whenever he opened his mouth that you would need a lot of research to get the joke. And there was always a joke, or some kind of hidden reference that only the intelligentsia would spot. I might have asked him to clarify, but any further debate about my appearance was squashed when Matt breezed into the room. “I need the A-team on this,” he said, and everyone immediately turned to face him. Cherri didn’t look away from the arcade machine, but she knew Matt wouldn’t expect her to. He saw challenging your high score as an almost sacred ritual, so no matter how urgent the matter was, he would wait for her to finish the game. It didn’t last long. She didn’t have the reflexes for key levels. And then we were all watching Matt, our immediate boss, as he told us what today’s crisis was. “A manager over in Nielssen,” he said. “Observed one of his secretaries browsing a website he disapproves of. FetishLibrary. For anyone who doesn’t know, it’s a site where anyone can post stories to share their kinks with the world. It turns out that the manager had already placed a floor-wide entry on the blocklist, keeping staff off of that site in particular. But the secretary figured out that he can access FetLib content through FanLibrary, which is more commonly used by teens and specialises in fan-fiction. In case you don’t know, a user account can be shared between the three sites, and once you’ve signed in on one of the sites, you can access its stories on the other frontends by using the same login. “What does he want?” Consty chipped in. “The manager has asked for a forensic examination of the logs. He wants to know everybody who’s been on the site, and which stories they’ve been reading. He wants to crack down on people reading content that casts doubt on their moral character, even during break times.” “Does he know what company he’s working for?” Lisette asked, followed by a laugh that was almost more of a snort. “I mean… is the guy reading psychological abuse porn? Even if he was, would it be management’s business?” “No, and no,” Matt answered quickly. “We’ve already responded to remind him that employees are entitled to quiet enjoyment of their time in the office unless there’s actually somebody waiting for them to submit a project. But this manager is a real piece of work, and he’s likely to ask some of the more tech-savvy members on his team to try and dig up the data.” I almost groaned, when I realised that was exactly what Tommo Gently had done in a very similar situation. And then I found that Matt was standing right in front of me. “Cain,” he said. “You could probably have found some hints at the information he wants. So you’re taking the lead on this one. I want to go back to Vicky with the news that there is no possible way for him to snoop on his colleagues. That’s the mission, guys. Test and improve the internal department nunya filters. Take whoever you want.” “Got it,” I said. It was one of the tasks that had been suggested when I was first given this transfer. We would shadow the IT department and make sure that all colleagues’ secrets were safe. But I was shocked that he would actually put me in charge of a project like this when it had only been a month and a half since I transferred over here. With everything they kept saying about this being a meritocracy, it was a clear statement that he had confidence in my abilities, and that only meant more pressure for me. “Everybody else,” he continued, “if you don’t have priority tasks or four-day deadlines on your current process, you’re trawling through the root logs for anything that could indicate an interest in alt, poly, or ABDL lifestyle for any employee. Anything you find, that whole file gets archived and nuked. Backups on three-eyes-only, if there’s anything in the same file that some department needs in future, they’ll have to come through us.” There was a murmur of agreement, and then everyone was scurrying over to their desks. I tapped Consty, Kevin, Jane-Jane, and Pol for my team. They were the people I guessed would have relevant skills. And then we got down to work. Nobody else said a word about my clothes or hair; there were more important things to pay attention to. And so my first day dressed in conventional business attire went by smoothly. I only thought about how I looked again when it was time to go home, and I wondered if I was going to see Carter outside. How would she react to me in a suit? I’d asked her about it, but then waited quite a few days before I actually found the courage to try out my new look. And what would she think when she saw it? Could she think, after our previous conversation, that this was some abstract way of hitting on her? I wanted my friend to be happy; not to convince her that I wanted something more from her. She wasn’t in the Keppler courtyard. So I found my mind drifting back onto the day’s work. It was often like that when I had a tough problem to focus on; my mind would keep returning to it until I actually had an answer. But this time, the puzzle that kept cropping up was only tangentially related to the problem we’d been making such great strides in solving. There were stories about adult babies on FetishLibrary. But they weren’t even close to the things I’d done with Carter. They were telling stories about a completely different lifestyle, only kind of similar. But as part of the work we’d been doing, some of those stories had appeared on screens in the office. The kinds of material that SYL employees might want to look at on work computers in their break time, and which we were supposed to ensure their managers couldn’t see a trace of. And that set up a new question in my mind. Because nobody on my team showed any signs of disapproval, even of these over-the-top interpretations of how someone could be a child again. And more than having no disapproval, there was no surprise. I probably wouldn’t have been able to remain so composed before I had discovered that this stuff was a thing. So did that mean that everyone in my office had heard of it before? Were some of them even into the same things? Of course I couldn’t ask that. The whole point was that it needed to be kept private. But I couldn’t stop myself wondering if any of my colleagues wanted to be little girls again just like Carter did; or indulged in the more disturbing activities mentioned in some of those stories. And how many of them had come across it before in the name of protecting employees’ privacy; or had learned of it when someone else in the office hadn’t been quite as discreet as I was trying to be. Dr Lentz had said it, after all. Carter and I weren’t the only ones here. And there was such a tight sense of camaraderie here; if someone let something slip and the whole team found out, it was easy to imagine that they would have been supportive. For all I knew, it could be an open secret. Maybe I was the newcomer who didn’t know yet; except that I wasn’t the only new person on this team. We were all new, so even if some of these people had known each other’s secrets beforehand, it wouldn’t have so easily spread to everyone. Some of the people on my team were “littles”, I was sure of it. I just didn’t have the first idea who it could be. I knew that I should let them share it when they were ready, but that was still the question that my subconscious mind came back to try and solve every time there was nothing else to focus on. I was surprised when I saw Carter sitting on my doorstep. My mind had slipped so far down the rabbit hole that I’d completely forgotten that I had been expecting to see her. “Good evening, little one,” I said, and ruffled her hair. And then we were inside. She didn’t say anything about the change in my hair, or the suit. She just stayed close, but I could see that she was smiling. “Did you have a lot of fun at school today?” I wasn’t sure where the words had come from, but after a momentary laugh she answered like it was the most natural thing in the world. She recounted the things that had happened in Fitzgerald in the excited tones of a child reporting the gossip from the classroom, and I found that adorable. The judgemental Miss Noel was now the teacher in Lily’s retellings, and she talked about coworkers like they were her classmates. I could imagine things just like she described, and the conversation turned into a whole lot of giggles. We had dinner, and we watched cartoons. As the evening drew on, I lifted out a toy chest from the corner of the room, and when she opened it today she found a couple of dolls I’d picked up the day before from one of the discount stores. I was really starting to think about Lily like she was a real child, and it was easy to see things when I was out shopping that she might enjoy. I still didn’t call her Lily, but the name had somehow settled in my mind, and I hoped that I would be able to keep on treating her like this forever. But as the evening drew on, there was a change in the atmosphere. Something was different, and I wasn’t quite sure what it was. She packed away the toys neatly in the chest; which was about as common as it could be for any small child ever. And then when she closed the lid, I knew that she was no longer feeling the safety of her childlike role. “What’s wrong, sweetie?” I asked. Had I done something to pull her out of that happy state. “Nothing wrong,” she said, and came up to sit on the couch beside me. “There’s something else I want to say to you, and I don’t know if you’ll be willing to do it. But I’m nervous to even talk about it. I think I’ve found a way to express it through that story, but it was pretty tough even setting up the first steps on a path that will lead there. And… And like, whether you want to do that or not, there’s something I want to share with you first. While I’m not acting childlike at all, and you know that everything I say is my own choice, something I’ve thought about for a long time, and there is no doubt in my mind.” “What do you…” I stammered. My mind was racing, but I didn’t know what she could be thinking of. There were so many thoughts in my mind that my thoughts turned into a kaleidoscope, where I couldn’t even identify the broad strokes that had broken down into so many confusing pieces. “Call me Belle,” she said. “Right now. Not a separate name for my little side. Not a joking use of surnames between coworkers. Just a… my first name.” “Belle?” I said, still not entirely sure why she set so much value in names. But if it made her happy, of course I would say it. And as soon as I made the first sound, she was swinging one leg around to sit in my lap, facing me with one knee on the sofa cushions to either side. There was no ambiguity in that pose; I couldn’t misunderstand her now. “I need you, Cain. Not as a daddy this time, but… an adult.” And then she leaned closer, and there was not the faintest hint of hesitation in that kiss.

Yes a nurse and a nurse's aide cleaned me put a fresh diaper on me and it was great!

She was doing something similar at the beginning, when she first tried to get Ffrances on board. She pretends to believe it, but she's always been trying to manufacture evidence to support the story she wants. Hopefully she'll learn soon, because there's not much story left :S     138. My Inside Man I sighed when I got another message from Walthamstone. I didn’t really want to stay in touch with the guy, because he kind of creeped me out. But somehow I’d ended up giving him enough information to let him find my profile on FanLibrary. Of course, I did most of my reading on FetishLibrary, rather than the new fanfiction-driven site. But the two shared user profiles, and Walthamstone had at least been satisfied to see that I wasn’t sharing pictures of his humiliating interests on any of his fanspaces on there. He probably had no idea which sites I was actually active on. “You should see the movie,” he was gushing now. “It’s incredible, it already gets me emotional.” But how was that supposed to mean anything? He was working on the movie. Why was he talking about it on a fansite? Was he trying to convince me that I had an inside line on all the gossip, and I’d be losing out if he got kicked off the set? That might have had some influence, if I’d even cared about the movie. I mean, it was going to be fun. But I already knew more about it than anyone else, just from Kernigan’s tacit confirmation that it was based on one of the storylines in the three rings, making the plotlines from Canon Flash and The Biker, The Don, and The Pope part of the main story again. I wasn’t one to trade in gossip. But his latest line was just too dumb for words. He couldn’t even bluff effectively. “How would you know?” I answered. “You’re in the movie, not watching it. I bet you don’t know anything beyond your own lines.” I tapped ‘send’, and then went back to worrying about the latest message from Ffrances. She said that she wanted to talk to me about something major while the kids weren’t around. By kids, of course, she meant Tess and Spike. The boy was included just because he was currently living in my house. It was a real test of my patience not to kick him out, although I found that I could tolerate his presence a lot better when he was a girl. The hypnosis worked well, and the role apparently felt real to him. I’d been looking for a way to make that a permanent change so that I would never have to feel like he was a threat. But so far, I didn’t have any wedges I could use to talk Ffrances into making such a drastic change to his mind without his permission; nor had I seen any confessions that might convince her it was what he really wanted. She’d talked to him a lot more than I had already, so it would be near impossible to use the trick about him being too shy to bring it up with her. In any case, our home was hectic enough that it was hard to find a time when we would both be free and they would both be out. In the end, we’d decided to discuss whatever it was when they were at their school ball. My anxiety peaked when I learned that Spike would be getting changed for the event elsewhere, and was going to turn up in a suit to pick up Tess. It was hard to keep from panicking when he acted so much like this was a date. A part of me was wondering if Ffrances just wanted to ensure that I wouldn’t be snooping around, trying to watch them to make sure he didn’t try anything. While they weren’t here, the most I could do would be reminding Tess to have an accident if the little punk tried to kiss her. I felt bad giving her suggestions like that, and had only done it a couple of times over the last few weeks. But if they were going to an event where lots of girls were likely to be molested by their so-called boyfriends, the temptation might be just too strong. And if he behaved himself, they would never even know. I knew it would be better to ensure that they had a chaperone. But Ffrances had insisted that she had something serious to talk about, and she didn’t want to do it when they might be around. I might have wondered if she was going to move in with me full time, but surely she would want to talk about that when the whole family was there. Wouldn’t she? Another message from Walthamstone made my phone buzz and derailed my train of thought. He seemed to have nothing better to do than bother me with messages on FanLibrary. If he didn’t cut it out, it could cut into my work time, and then I would be the one in trouble. I even thought about turning off notifications for the app; but I couldn’t really do that while I was waiting for an important message from Little Vicky, to say if they trusted me enough to invite me to their convention. I knew that Ffrances was supposed to be arranging things, and she’d already spoken to them, but I wanted to at least know that I could get the trust of a bunch of littles without help. When I saw the pervert’s latest message, I froze. I might not be interested in gossip from behind the scenes, but this would be gold. He said he’d already seen the movie. The editors were putting together a mockup, using footage that had been shot so far, storyboard sketches, rehearsals with or without costume, and for some scenes even a rough pencil drawing of where each character should be standing, with the audio track from actors sitting around a table reading the script. And every week, at the end of filming, the editors would bring this prototype movie up to date with new footage. That was what Walthamstone had meant when he said that he’d watched it; they were letting the main actors see it so they would know how their parts fitted into the whole. It was stupid. I knew it was stupid. But I wrote back to him right away. Not like I wanted to validate his delusions of being interesting, but I wanted to see one of those mockup cuts of the movie. I asked about them, and he said that he could get me one of the daily releases. Just so long as I destroy every copy of the incriminating photos. Well… maybe he didn’t exactly offer. I might have said that was the only way he could convince me not to share his secret with the world. But that was his own fault for getting into this situation in the first place. I would never have even known those videos existed if he hadn’t dangled them in front of me. I hated being manipulated like that, especially by a pervert, so it was only natural that I’d have to take back control of the situation. Much to my surprise, I found that he was going to be in the area again. Kernigan had found some local landscapes that he wanted to be in the background or something, I couldn’t imagine where. I knew the scenery was pretty, but I’d never expected somebody would want it to be in a movie. But they were going to be somewhere around here again, he told me that he thought he could get a DVD of one of the daily cuts out, just so long as nobody ever learned that I had it. I told him he wouldn’t need to worry about that; I was working with Claughton now, I would be in just as much trouble as him if I shared something like that, and I didn’t have an existing fortune to fall back on. And that was all I needed to say; he was going to get in touch again when he knew what days he would be available to make the swap. When I looked around the office again, I saw that many of the day staff had already disappeared. It was getting late now, time for me to be getting home. About the only person still working was Carter, fingers drumming away on the keyboard. With no tasks assigned to her, I knew that whatever she was so busy with wasn’t work. But if I didn’t need her to do anything, I didn’t really have any reason to complain about the hours she spent pouring her soul into social media or whatever she was doing. I was just eager to see my family again, and glad to know that if I ever needed something typed out at high speed, one of my employees probably had the right skills for the job. “Good luck,” I said with a smile as I left the office. “See you in the morning.” And then I was on my way home, hoping that nothing had gone wrong for Tess and her friends today.

A soaked Abena M4 diaper this morning. No messies; sometimes that happens, or should I say doesn't happen.