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Oh Moxxie, no plan is foolproof. With this deal, I'm guessing Blitz moves to a new apartment. Or at least fixes it up. Is Stolas being gay common knowledge in your story?  Or is the client just very well informed?

Feels like it's been quite a while since I posted the last chapter; so here's a new one, even though my writing progress has slowed right down recently. And in case anyone is interested, this is how my writing is progressing: (and advice from anyone who knows graphviz better would be appreciated; because I think it should be possible to make the arrows less wonky)   97. Broken The Klein house was quiet in the night; but there were always whispers in the darkness. The house creaked slightly with every slight breeze, and there were faint murmurs from the pipes and central heating. Isadora wasn’t really listening to them, but she couldn’t ignore the background noise of a house being a home. The thing that got to her most, even on the second night since her return from the basement, was how different it felt from the carefully-curated background whispers of the Pink Room; subliminal messages mixed in with white noise, and the deliberate addition of sounds on the edge of hearing to create a specific atmosphere. It was the change that made it hard to sleep, rather than any specific element. She rolled her head to one side, even though there was nothing to be seen in the blackness. She felt that even when it was so dark, she would have been able to see the bars if they were there. She was an adult now, of course, so she didn’t need a crib to make her feel safe. But she wondered if it would be easier to sleep. At some point while she was trapped down there, the bars had morphed from a sign of imprisonment to a protection that made her feel safe, and she didn’t like knowing that they weren’t there. She would get used to sleeping without bars sooner or later. And pushing herself to avoid all childish things was clearly the most direct way to do that. It was a strong line in the sand, putting her little side away until she knew that she was over all the conditioning. But was it worth denying herself, if just one night in the nursery could help her to sleep more easily? She was pretty sure that was just her conditioning trying to make itself felt again; an urge to be a child just once that would never stay as just once. And she knew that if she gave in to it, she wouldn’t find it any easier to sleep in a real bed tomorrow night. But she still couldn’t get the thought out of her mind. She could just get up, go and look at the crib in the nursery, and that would remind her how humiliating it would be to need something like that. Maybe that would remind her why she wanted to avoid it, and then she could sleep. If she could admit it to herself, she would have known that it couldn’t actually make a difference. The crib issue was just a smokescreen, an issue that she could focus on in order to avoid thinking about the real reason she couldn’t sleep. But if she walked over to the nursery, there was a slim chance she could find a way to rest. She didn’t want to think about Brock babying her. She didn’t want to remember how comfortable he had been saying the trigger phrase when she first returned. How well he had played the role of a Daddy, forcing her into being who he wanted, when he had picked her up from the Pink Room. He was just too good at playing the part, and she couldn’t understand why he had decided to go so far with it. Sure, he didn’t want her to blow their cover. But if he’d picked her up from Arrencani’s house and driven her home, he could have waved the wand in front of her as soon as they got to the car. She told herself that she would have understood what he was getting at, if she hadn’t had Stella’s desire to play creeping in around the edges of her consciousness after the first time he had diapered her. Everything would have been so easier if he could have arranged to recover her on a day without a sportsball game. Something didn’t feel right, and as much as she tried to tell herself that Daddy had to know what he was doing, Isadora couldn’t rest easy without knowing what was going on. But she couldn’t deal with that; she didn’t know how she was supposed to even address the way he was treating her. The best she could do was sit in the nursery for a little while, and hope for the feelings of security that always made it so easy to relax. She was sure she moved silently, bare feet padding across the thick carpet. She didn’t want to wake Brock; but it looked like he wasn’t asleep. As she stepped out into the hallway, she saw that the lounge door was ajar, and beyond it she could see her partner with the ethereal glow from a phone screen illuminating his face. His hands were moving, but quickly froze when he heard some subtle hint of movement from Isadora. “Can’t sleep?” he asked. “You should try to get your head down. You got a big day ahead of you tomorrow.” “Big…” she mumbled, wondering what he could be talking about. “Why, what are you going to make me do tomorrow?” “It’s up to you,” he answered, and the light shifted across his features as a shrug moved his screen. “I didn’t have any plans, but I believe your friends are going to Fairhaven Exchange. Miss Glaze is certainly expecting you to go with them, though I suspect she’ll have an intimidating volume of questions to ask.” “Oh, yeah,” Isadora answered. Somehow she was surprised that he knew that much about her schedule. She knew she should have expected it; he seemed to know everything. But she also knew that she had no way of knowing how much her hypnotic experiences were now making her overestimate what Daddy could be capable of. “I’d completely forgotten. Am I free to go? No sports appointments with your friends tomorrow?” “That’s not really my thing,” Brock answered with a shrug. And it was like a switch flipped in Isadora’s head, admitting brand new ideas for her consideration. Was the sportsball afternoon to make sure that everyone saw the ULF video for some reason? She already knew that Brock had known about it in advance, but she wasn’t sure how much he had known about the intended broadcast date. “What is, then?” she asked. She quickly paced down the hall, and sat down on the couch opposite Brock. Maybe she could ask her questions after all. She couldn’t necessarily trust his responses, but she knew she could at least ask. “I mean… why did you… Everything that day, from a burst of cruelty when you picked me up to your bonding time with the guys, I don’t understand.” “Lorenzo Arrencani gave me a script,” Brock answered. Then, before he continued, he stood and walked over to the drinks cabinet, topping up his glass with soda water. “The first time you see me after conditioning is important to the process,” he said. “While you were in the Pink Room, your conditioning was temporarily targeted on the staff in there. So they would be able to make you comply. But there needs to be a symbolic handover to transfer that authority back to your partner. Triggering you as soon as I saw you again was a big part of it. I’m sorry about that, but Arrencani and Renault spent several hours coaching me on what to say and how to say it, to make sure that your obedience tendencies were turned in my direction. If I didn’t play along, that would have been too suspicious. And, for all I know, could have left you more obedient to them.” “So making me wet my pants…” “Was just a part of the plan. Something we had to play through. See, Arrencani takes his little specialty very seriously. Told me exactly how it’s supposed to play out. That first trigger is the catalyst for transferring all the obedience, trust, and general submissive tendencies from the staff to me.” “So you know all those tendencies no longer apply to Lorenzo?” she asked, raising an eyebrow. “You know you can trust me?” “I don’t know if it will impair your abilities until your mind is back to normal. I’m sorry.” “I still can’t get over knowing that you…” Her voice trailed into silence, but probably not for any reason that Brock could have imagined. The words that had popped up in her head had been “changed my diaper”, which she wouldn’t let herself say because it portrayed the more childish side of herself that she wanted to hold back. Speaking about a diaper in such a matter-of-fact way, as if to suggest that wearing diapers was a normal thing for her. What she should have said was that she couldn’t believe he had diapered her. A few words seemed to make a world of difference to how she felt about the description. But before she could say that, she found herself contemplating whether it was being diapered itself that had bothered her, even after the nannies had put her in the same situation so many times, or that her partner had seen her exposed like that; practically naked. And as those thoughts collided behind her lips, she didn’t know which one to say. She was just as shocked by her own reaction; that it had taken her so long to realise that the diaper change was a form of nudity. But as she fished for the right words, tried to decide how she could finish the sentence, Brock jumped in ahead of her. “And I’m sorry about that as well,” he said. “But in a big way, that was actually your choice. They let you choose whether to be diapered for our first meeting, didn’t they? And they let you choose who changed you.” “And I reacted exactly as predicted?” Isadora tried to inject a little bit of spite back into her voice, to drown out the echo of touching memories of how safe she had felt when she saw her Daddy again. It had felt wonderful, and she didn’t want those feelings to push her to forgive him. “Actually, no,” he said, and laughed a little. “Wearing big girl underwear for that meeting is normal for girls who still have a rebellious streak, who think they might be able to get over the conditioning. As well as those who get off on the feeling of humiliation, of course. But with your previous interest in being safe, innocent, and nurtured, it would have been quite possible for you to choose the diaper. And it’s most usual for a little one to ask to be changed by the nannies they’re familiar with, unless the bond between a couple is exceptionally strong. So I think we were all surprised when you asked that.” “I don’t feel anything for you!” Isadora answered quickly, but she couldn’t have explained why she had actually made that choice. Was Brock trying to pull something out of her subconscious that she couldn’t admit, or something that wasn’t even there? Was this just another mind game? She was confused about her own feelings now, but she was completely prepared to be angry if his next word was the wrong one. “Their predictions probably don’t apply to someone who was playing a cover identity in the Pink Room,” Brock answered with a shrug, and Isadora couldn’t see any reason to be upset. “You weren’t in there to be trained, and you know that. Maybe your childish mind leapt to me because you remembered that Estella has a history of making unwise decisions to be with her husband. Or because you were on some level eager to step away from being Estelle Klein, and hoped I could talk to you as yourself.” “Yeah, could be,” she mumbled. “But we need some rules for that going forward.” “I think we talked about that already,” Brock said. “I’m not going to use that trigger again, until we can be sure it’s worn off. And for the sake of breaking the conditioning more quickly, I’m not going to treat you like a child for a while, even in the manner we did before. We can go back to that when you think you’re ready, when you think the hypnosis has lost its hold on you. I’m not the expert in psychology, but I think that cutting it off completely will be the best way to avoid dredging up unpleasant memories from Arrencani’s basement. Right?” Isadora didn’t want to tell that she didn’t actually have that many bad memories. Despite how strange it seemed, the uncomfortable moments in the Pink Room had always come from her own belief that she had to resist the training. She hadn’t wanted to be down there, but the nannies had done everything they could to prevent any particular interaction becoming a sour memory. “Yeah,” she said in the end, unable to find a better response. “But if you’d made that promise a week ago, it would have been a lie. Wouldn’t it? You’ll have to talk to me like a child sometimes when we’re around Victor, in order to maintain our cover. And there’s no way to know if Lorenzo will want to test my conditioning, or something, so he might expect you to say the trigger again. So we need rules about that.” “Okay,” Brock said, and nodded. “This is very much your side of the investigation, and it’s your dignity that could be on the line. So I’ll let you decide what you think is reasonable.” “Right,” Isadora answered, a little taken aback that he was actually giving her control here. But that had always been how Brock worked, hadn’t it? Whether she was a baby or not didn’t really factor into the organisation he was investigating now, it only touched on it tangentially. So on this front, she was the decision maker. It was the fair way to do things; but that didn’t make it any easier to come up with a sane compromise on the spot. “So, you treat me like an adult, like a partner you respect. But if there’s other people around who expect me to be submissive, or regressed, you can talk to me in character and I’ll try to respond appropriately. If possible, you should always warn me in advance before doing that. So I have time to psych myself up, and so that we’re both on the same page. And if Lorenzo or Victor wants to see me triggered, if you think it’s absolutely necessary to maintain our cover, then I can accept that. Just tell me why you think it’s necessary. Before you do it, if possible, but if not, as soon as we’re alone and you can help me get back to normal.” “Reddham’s rules?” Brock asked, a little smirk playing on his lips. And Isadora immediately recognised the reference. Named after the former operative who had formulated them, Reddham’s rules were included in the Agency’s field training manuals. A simple set of rules regarding consent when operatives might simulate or perform sexual acts in order to preserve their legends under surveillance, or for purposes like preventing security searching a room. As soon as Brock mentioned it, Isadora could see that the rules boiled down to pretty much the same ones she had just stated for being triggered, and that raised more questions in her mind that she didn’t want to think about right now. “Similar enough,” she said, hoping that her blushes weren’t visible in the dim light from Brock’s phone. “It’s an embarrassing situation that I’m mature enough to deal with if it’s necessary for the mission. But only if it’s necessary. Give me a heads-up if you can. And let me know if you’re going to want me to watch sportsball, as well, so I can at least have some idea about the rules and the teams.” “I don’t know,” Brock said with a shrug. “I think seeing Stella go from not understanding anything to picking up the rules as fast as she could… That really sold Victor on recognising your desire to please. Because to an average guy, anyone who doesn’t know sportsball must not want to know.” “Okay, so it helped the legend,” Isadora said, unable to deny the logic in that. “But was it really necessary to host a sportsball viewing party here?” “I had to do it,” he replied. “It was part of the plan Lorenzo gave me. I mean, it could have been a poker game or a cookout or something, but it had to be a traditionally-masculine event with my male friends. Like Nina being at the poker game. An uncomfortable situation for you, where you would need to hide your new baby tendencies from others. A reminder that the baby stuff is our secret, so it reinforces the trust in Bernard. Or in me, perhaps, but I have no idea how that will work.” “Okay, So it was what Lorenzo wanted. I bet that was convenient. So, was the news broadcast a part of the plan? Or was that completely unexpected?” “I knew it was coming. I didn’t know when. I have no idea whether Arrencani was expecting it.” Isadora wanted to respond to that; she wanted to say something. But the words escaped her, and she didn’t know how to phrase any of the questions that were haunting her right now. But there were still other questions she wanted to ask. Questions she couldn’t ask, too. Like she couldn’t even raise the subject of how he felt changing her diaper; whether seeing her exposed like that made him feel anything, or whether he was just a perfect operative, seeing this as another part of his job. So she focused on one thing she could still ask. “There’s someone you know, isn’t there?” “Hmm?” “You kind of half mentioned it before, and I didn’t know if it was appropriate to ask or not. There’s someone in this neighbourhood you’re avoiding. Someone from another organisation, perhaps? An enemy you’ve run into before, whose presence makes you worry?” “Nothing like that,” Brock answered quickly, and this time his laughter seemed genuine. “Let me set your mind at rest on that front. There’s someone in this area who is known to me, as well as to your friend Brown. Who I’m willing to believe has retired from any contact with our world, if he was ever in it, and I am somewhat confident is not working for Arrencani, at least not as part of his criminal enterprises, and who I’m almost confident won’t be our enemy when it comes to shutting down the family’s worst excesses. But on the other hand, someone who I have met before, and who knows me as a legend which has already been compromised. So I need to be sure Arrencani won’t hear about that.” “And you won’t tell me who?” Isadora asked, a little sick of all the mysteries. “It isn’t relevant,” Brock said. “He doesn’t know you, and you don’t know him.” Isadora couldn’t argue with that. And now, she felt a little calmer. Brock had given her some stories, something she could possibly believe. It was still possible he was lying, but she had a possible set of answers in her mind rather than just a mystery. She thanked him, and padded through to the kitchen. Five minutes later, she was heading back to her bedroom with a glass of water. But she was still a little disappointed with herself. After everything they had been through, she wished that she could have managed to put her deepest worries into words, so that she would at least be certain about the details of the suspicions she needed to disprove. “You think the ULF is around,” she whispered to herself, lying back in bed now. The words she hadn’t found the courage to say in front of her partner. “There’s someone you’ve seen in Fairhaven, maybe even in the Estates, who you know from a previous engagement. That’s why you weren’t surprised I got that video. And you want to believe Arrencani knows they’re here. Because after all those reports from the local cops, if the Arrencani Crime Family really did have fingers in so many pies, they’d be sure to have heard if a major terrorist organisation had a presence in their town. The logic’s sound, but it doesn’t feel right to me. I don’t think Lorenzo is behind anything as big as those files suggest. I think maybe the cops have used the Arrencani name as a convenient scapegoat to pin on any unsolved case, so the beat cops can pass it to the organised crime division instead of admitting failure. The more times they hear the name, the more likely they are to blame Lorenzo for things he might have no connection to, on the most tenuous evidence. Wouldn’t that explain why they’ve never been able to build a case against him, even for the small things?” She sighed, realising that her voice was rising slightly towards the end. But it hadn’t been hard to say, when she was just addressing the darkness in her room. So why couldn’t she say it to Brock? Because she already knew he wouldn’t listen. Because he was so determined to find evidence against Lorenzo that he couldn’t consider other possibilities. Couldn’t even imagine the Arrencani Crime Family being a myth, or a massive exaggeration on the part of the local police. And he didn’t trust her judgement, even knowing that any hypnotically-induced trust was supposed to have transferred to him only, because she was thinking about possibilities he had dismissed out of hand. That made everything clear to Isadora. She needed to find whatever Brock had found to suggest that there was a ULF member in their town; and then join the dots to prove that Lorenzo didn’t know about it; or even that his people were trying to stop the terrorists. That kind of evidence would be a very tall order, but Isadora knew there was nobody else to turn to. She just had to find it by herself, and then Brock would listen again. With that decision made, she closed her eyes and soon drifted back to sleep.

🤣

YES! Thank you! Been driving me nuts. That forum was where I found it, I had no idea how old it was.  You're a legend! ❤️

Hey, I‘m Mike, 47, male, from germany.   l‘ve been a „passive reader“ in this forum for years and now decided to become a bit more active.    Since I can remember as a very young child, was interested in diapers and have lot of memories of situations starting at approx age of 3. As a teenager I started using diapers, but it was of course difficult to get some. Since my 20‘s I had lot of „on-off“ phases in my usage. But never more than a few month without diapers.    The last 1,5 years I try to become a bedwetter, wearing a diaper almost every night. But without any success yet. Still having issues to fully „let go“ while laying down. My goal is to improve here and there is is still a deep wish also to become incontinent. But I guess it will take some time to go „all-in“ here. Not ready yet.    I hope I can meet some nice people here and get some contact to share experiences!   Mike