Rainbow Diapers

Someone i look up to, absolutely will not if he can avoid it, do a short power up on his jet engine. Mainly because of how much it shortens the life span of the engine. Mind you he runs his helicopter. The helicopter has has 2 small but very powerful jet engines on his little germen helicopter. 

Part 2 The following day I woke up and knew something was different; it didn’t take long to realise that I’d crapped myself. This was a huge thing to happen. I mean, it’s bad enough pissing yourself at night but crapping yourself, well, that’s a completely different ball game. My conversation with Terry had obviously had more of a worrying effect on my mind than anticipated because I’d dreamt of him and the rest of the class taunting me by insisting I fill my nappy. The thing is, in real life, once he knew, Terry was all understanding and thankfully not up for public mocking, which is what I hoped of him. So why I’d had this awful outcome as I slept I don’t know but, and I hate to admit it, I was scared enough by my school mate’s nightmarish jeers and threats to fill my nappy as the mob demanded. It was an unsettled night, marked by a distressing nightmare in which I was not my sixteen-year-old self, but instead a frightened young child, surrounded by older boys who mocked and intimidated me. At times, I attempted to present myself as a teenager, yet my attire suggested otherwise, causing disbelief among those around me. The ridicule was persistent and unnerving. Eventually, they encircled me, pulling at my clothing and insisting that I act according to their expectations of a baby. This overwhelming scenario led to a loss of control within the confines of my dream—an experience that, unfortunately, extended beyond the boundaries of sleep. Mum’s usual bang on the door ‘get up call’ had me worried. This wasn’t something I could hide, although I desperately wanted to, and something too shameful to admit to. However, there was a certain potent smell which I was sure would permeate the house if I didn’t get up and sort myself out. On the other hand, sixteen or not, I really didn’t want to deal with this on my own. Bruce was quietly curled up at the foot of my bed and didn’t seem alarmed at the musty smell. I didn’t want to blame him for the stench although the thought had crossed my mind. “Mum” I called and Bruce perked up his ears and came bounding over. “Yes love, what is it?” Mum’s concerned voice replied. “Can you come in for a minute please?” My voice drifting to almost zero as I was unsure what reaction would follow. I suppose, when she walked in she knew immediately it was me and not the dog. I was standing next to my bed, with a very full droopy nighttime fabric nappy and she’d quickly assessed the smelly situation. Meanwhile, Bruce had his paws pressed against my plastic coated hip, his tail wagged as I gently stroked his head. No judgement from him at least.   “Oh dear!” Mum looked from the sagginess back up to my face and although I hated to admit something else, I was on the verge of tears and needed mum to help sort this mess out. “Down Bruce,” he looked at mum and, as all of us do, did what she said immediately. He slowly padded back to his spot by the door and waited further instructions. After that she was on the case. “Okay sweetheart, go to the bathroom and wait for me.” She moved across and opened the window wider, a move I thought I should have done but of course, I was feeling pretty sorry for myself and couldn’t grasp how waking up wet had suddenly converted to waking up with a full and disgusting nappy. The night before, as she’d insisted now for a few nights, saw me wearing one of her thick fabric nappies to sleep in. The substantial vinyl pants that covered it was a pleasant sensation to fall asleep stroking but now I just felt silly not being in control of... Oh god... it was just awful to think, let alone experience, what I was carrying in the seat of all this sodden material. I could feel the extra weight being held in place by the slick pants and thought I could see mum looking at Bruce as if to say, ‘At least you managed to hold yours for the night’. I may have been reading something into nothing but I was feeling very guilty. “Sorry mum,” I tried to keep up my sixteen year-old charade even though at that moment I felt like a little kid, “I had a nightmare and got scared... I s’pose?” was all I could offer as an excuse. “It’s alright love, don’t worry, these things happen so don’t fret. We’ll soon have everything sorted.” She patted my shoulder with sympathy as I made my weary way to the bathroom.   She checked the bed to make sure none of the sheets needed attention, which didn’t (that part of the laundry rule had been observed) then followed and closed the door behind us. “I know you’re probably feeling embarrassed but don’t be, accidents happen and we can only be glad that you’ve been thoughtful enough to wear a nappy at these demanding times.” I assumed she was referring to the fact that I’d been quite anxious about my exams. I know she was trying to make me feel better but it wasn’t working, I still felt like a stupid toddler unable to get to the toilet in time. Sixteen or not, I was battling to keep back the tears, this to me seemed an all-time low and one I’d find difficult to bounce back from. I’d always have the knowledge that a lad my age had shit in his nappy (HIS NAPPY!) and that lad was me. I was full of shame, misery and apologies. She pulled down my plastic pants and the full horror of the messy material was revealed. As I stepped out of them she said, “Thank God for these,” and threw the plastic pants into the sink. “Okay love, step into the shower and I’ll unpin you... just don’t look if you’re feeling a bit queasy.” I could feel myself about to gag at the thought, never mind the sight, of my foul excretions. It flopped heavily onto the shower tray. Mum reached in and instantly removed it and told me to get a thorough shower “... and pay attention to your bum sweetie.” She didn’t need to say anything else as I got the drift. I’m a lad of sixteen and I’d shit myself. Thankfully the padding contained everything but that didn’t stop me feeling like I’d let everyone down. Mum had seen my shitty bum, hell, she must have thought those days were well behind her. Well, my behind was going to need extra attention and I needed to stop being queasy and get to it. # I can’t tell you how upsetting it was to see the brown water trickle down the plughole. I kept up a sudsy application to that area until I was sure... well... I wouldn’t say it was good enough to eat off but you get the idea. As I was drying myself on the landing I could hear mum and dad talking downstairs. I listened in and caught bits of their conversation. From what I could gather dad must have asked if this was a new problem but mum was arguing not to make a ‘big thing’ about it. “Look love,” she spoke quietly to dad, “just don’t make it an issue. He’s had an accident and I’m sure the poor lad is beside himself with embarrassment so doesn’t need us making it worse.” In my mind’s eye I saw dad nodding in agreement even if a little doubtful. “What we need to remember is that we’ve got a great kid who has the bravery to wear a nappy because he needs to... not many lad’s his age would be that self-aware AND,” she emphasised, “I’m proud that he’s bright enough to know that a nappy and plastic pants have saved him from the embarrassment of making a huge mess.” She paused and then continued “Just think, if he hadn’t been wearing protection how the poor boy would feel. We should only mention it if he does... don’t you think?” “Hmmm,” I heard dad reply uncertainly. It was nice to know they weren’t mad at me and thought I was being grown up about my juvenile problem. I was feeling quite good about myself, now I was cleaned up, but a thought suddenly struck me – what if they knew I was listening and they were just saying all that for my benefit. That caused a massive blast of anxiety to course through my body and an extra, unsolicited spurt of pee into my towel. Oh God I don’t need this worry. But the towel had saved my leaky embarrassment like the nappy had done. Bloody hell, I need a nappy whether I want one or not but thankfully, I have to wear one so... I could hear them carry on with whatever they were doing downstairs so assumed the conversation had ended. I walked back into my bedroom and saw that mum wasn’t taking any chances and had laid out all the stuff I needed – Petroleum jelly, powder, a pre-folded fabric nappy, pins and a pair of new robust-looking blue vinyl pants. I sighed, despite it being a school day, I s’pose I shouldn’t have expected anything else - prevention is better than cure as she would say. Which of course is nonsense, a cure would be far better. # I’d just more or less got my head around the fact that I might need all this stuff at night but then worried ‘what if I had a similar accident during class or worse, in the middle of an exam?’ I’d already told mum about the uncomfortable soaker pad in my briefs from the day before and that I’d used a disposable for the rest of the day but the shitty mess I’d just left behind had taken my ‘problem’ to a different level. I was just trying to deal with that concern when mum came and joined me. “I know, I know,” she was in straight away, “I can see you’re reluctant to wear all this for school, and I don’t blame you, but firstly we have to think what caused you to, you know...?” For someone who wasn’t going to say anything she was certainly saying something. I shrugged and nodded that I knew to what she was referring, it would have been difficult to try and deny it. Especially as there was a new small yellow pee stain on the towel I was trying to hide. I explained about my nightmare and what the fear being discovered wearing a nappy at school had induced so, as a result, wasn’t keen on wearing all this stuff now... just in case it all kicked off for real. “It’s up to you of course sweetheart, I’ve just laid it out as a recommendation but if you think you can cope with a possible accident wearing your normal underpants that’s fine by me.” Of course, the way she said it, leaving it for me to decide, meant that I’d be stupid to ignore her suggestion. “Won’t it look a bit bulky under my trousers?” I enquired. “Well let’s see shall we... do you need any help?” She was already armed with the petroleum jelly to rub in so I simply dropped my towel and let her get on with it. Although we’re a loving family and have few hang-ups this degree of intimacy was a relatively new thing. Mum and Dad had always given me my privacy, which I appreciated but with the wetting came something else, concern. I quickly understood that this was something I might not be able to handle on my own and certainly mum was keen to make sure I was armed for any eventuality. I learned fairly quickly that as far as mums in general are concerned, you’ll always be their baby no matter what age you are. I understood she was keen to help and it would be foolish not to accept all that was offered. She knew what was needed whereas I had no idea. Mum had made it her mission, whilst I needed to wear a nappy, to simply be there and help me through the process, which had her pinning me in when she felt it was more practical. She seemed to enjoy these times and I s’pose, to a certain extent, oddly, so did I. # Mum was completely unconcerned about why this should be happening as she simply got on with distributing the gooey jelly evenly around my newly naked parts. “Mum, doesn’t this worry you?” I asked concerned. “Not really love. You have a problem, which we hope to have sorted soon but, in the meantime, we’ve found a simple and effective way to keep any embarrassment to a minimum.” Mini Mum, ha-ha... will that ever get old? I chuckled to myself. Just so you’re in on the joke, dad is six foot one, I’m five foot eight, whilst mum is barely five feet, though nonetheless a complete powerhouse. “But the expense of these nappies and such... well it can’t be cheap.” I casually added. Not that we are paupers but any new expense has to be taken into account. Mum nervously interrupted “Yes, well now, erm, I’ve been meaning to chat to you about that... erm...” I’ve never seen mum lost for words before so this caginess made me wonder what she was going to reveal. “Er, Avril and I have been talking...” “Mum, I have no idea who you’re talking about.” “Oh no, of course, Avril is the lady at the pharmacy who I’ve been chatting to about, erm, all this.” She spread her hand out to indicate my nappy and the rest of the stuff. “What do you mean... chatting about it... you mean me?” I asked a little incredulously. “Yes,” she replied sheepishly. “I’ve been telling her about your problem and between us we came up with this as the best way to deal with it.” She could see I wanted to complain about being the subject of idle gossip but she steamrolled ahead with what she had to say. “And, as she’s been so helpful suggesting things, erm, she wondered if you’d be happy...” Now it was my turn to interrupt. “MUM, isn’t it bad enough that I have this problem without everyone being in on it?” “Love it’s not like that. She’s a qualified pharmacist and I wanted what was best for you until we see the doctor.” She patted my arm and looked searchingly for approval. “She came up with a load of suggestions but we settled on this.” I don’t know for sure but there may have been a brief look of guilt that passed over her features. “And, as we chatted, umm, she wondered, if perhaps, you’d like to be part of a new marketing and research programme? It would simply entail reviewing the stuff you are now using?” “What?” By now mum had rubbed in all the goo, showered me in powder and shuffled the fabric under me. It wasn’t the best moment to take her to task for being mum. “Avril was impressed by our openness and thought you sounded an ideal candidate to take this on.” “What do you mean OUR openness? So you’ve been ‘bragging’ about your incontinent sixteen-year-old son and now I’m an ideal candidate for...” “Yes I know” she’d picked up on my disbelief, “but surely a little bit of feedback is okay isn’t it?” She opened the first pin and anchored the right hand side of the hefty material and then got ready to do the same with the left. I was completely floored by what she was saying and found it hard to reply. Words of anger, confusion and more assignments... I had hoped that with the exams all but over I wouldn’t have to do any more homework for months. “Look, I said I’d ask. I’m also giving feedback from a mum’s perspective but they thought if a review came from your point of view... review, your point of view...” she seemed to find that amusing for some reason “Well, it would be different and the companies would be, well, we’re getting some of this stuff free or at cost price so...” She seemed both embarrassed she’d mentioned it and dismissive as if to say it wasn’t a big deal. “So, you’ve already agreed?” I queried, more than a little annoyed mum should have volunteered me for such a thing. However, the thick, soft fabric was now in place and despite my many reservations it didn’t feel too bad – chunky, but soft and chunky. I had been quite surprised at how quickly I’d gotten used to wearing a nappy to bed and after my initial reluctance to wear ‘plastic baby pants’ at how soon I’d taken to them as well. So far, as mum pointed out; by wearing a nappy I’d avoided any real embarrassment as these lovely little ‘baby’ items (as I jokingly referred to them) were proving more than effective. She said nothing merely shuffled a new pair of thick blue vinyl pants up my legs and over the fluffy material. She looked a bit sheepish but added “Please give it some thought. I waited until after your Maths exam to mention it. So it shouldn’t be a time consuming job... and what you say might just benefit others.” “How?” “Well, from a user’s point of view - how they feel at night, are they comfortable to sleep in and, erm, what are they like to wear for school... you know... day to day wear...?” She continued trying to persuade me. “Despite these companies doing loads of research they really appreciate actual consumer feedback and they don’t get enough from someone, erm, your age.” “That’s because most lads my age don’t wear a nappy... and what’s more... those that do don’t want others knowing about it.” I was trying to be angry about the situation but of course, it was me that was peeing and shitting and the nappy was there for my protection. I had already made a mental note, and Mum had of course made similar references, that since wearing one there hadn’t been any dirty bed linen or soggy PJs (but that was because I had such thick protection to sleep in I hardly wore them now) and, AND, the plastic pants did keep everything contained so it was just the soiled nappies that needed washing. She patted my slinky padding and gave me one of those looks that said - It’s up to you but I think you should. “This could be something that helps others who might have a similar problem but are, unlike you, afraid to face it. I think you could be an inspiration.” “Oh mum, is that why you want me to wear them now... so I can review them?” Mum said nothing just left me to finish putting on my school uniform and checking if everything fitted alright. “Come down when you’re ready sweetheart and we’ll see if...” “Mum...?” But she sheepishly exited and I was left wondering if I’d just been set up just so I could have slightly cheaper protection. Of course my little problem was indeed costing us money, an extra strain of our family finances and that was because of me and my annoying bladder. I knew we weren’t poor and that dad’s job (and the company) was surviving okay under current terrible economic conditions but any unforeseen or extra layout could become a bit of a liability. I couldn’t let my dripping willy be the cause of the family missing out on something because of my need for nappies. I looked around at the stuff piled on the dresser and understood that maybe, because of the obvious cost, I needed to think about such things before I had a go at people who were just trying to help. Now I felt selfish and guilty, after all mum, and I s’pose the pharmacist, were only trying to do what was best for me. I needed to stop letting mum take all the responsibility and take some on myself. # tbc #

121. Outing Nina opened her mouth to speak again, but had suddenly come over all bashful. She glanced towards the restroom doors, but there was no sign of their friends returning yet. “Like a playdate?” Isadora guessed, trying to remember how much they had talked about that before, and how much she’d needed Brock to fill in the details of. “Or like a sleepover with teddies and colouring books?” Nina smiled a little at that, and thought before answering: “I think it might be a little more…” “More?” Isadora pressed, but Nina gave her a look that suggested the question barely needed answering. And then she understood what kind of plans the men might have been talking about. “Oh,” she said, trying to put all her feelings about that possibility to one side so that she could think clearly about whether Brock would really go through with it, and why he might. “They were talking about… words,” Nina said, hesitating for a little too long as if she didn’t really know how to express what she wanted to say. “About what they mean, and what they… do. I think you might have a surprise coming, when you see Victor again.” “You mean the trigger words?” Isadora said. She knew she should have been more cautious about saying this with other shoppers around; but so long as they both kept an eye on the door their friends would be returning through, nobody else was likely to care. “Yeah, Victor already knows mine. Is that what they were talking about?” “Yeah, I…” Nina seemed to falter for a moment, the excitement that had pushed her through her nervousness starting to fade. “I happened to hear them talking about the differences between our words. I thought… Bernard’s already seen mine, and if he’s told Victor about yours that must mean we’re closer than ever. But I thought that would be a surprise. Did he already tell you?” “Not quite,” Isadora gave a little chuckle. “And he didn’t tell Victor either. He found out from someone else, which kind of surprised Daddy.” “I’ll bet not as much as it surprised you,” Nina said with a smirk. Even without looking directly at her, it was easy enough to deduce what she was thinking. “He thought he could just say it,” Isadora answered. “But it doesn’t work without permission. Isn’t yours like that?” “Ohhh,” Nina said. “I’m not sure, to be honest. But their conversation makes a whole lot more sense now. You see…” She paused for a second, and Isadora decided not to push her. It was clear now the embarrassment had mostly slipped away, and Nina was excited to show how much she knew. Isadora let herself focus on a snuggly unicorn that was clearly designed for some purpose other than being a child’s toy; but she found the embroidered eyes begging ‘please take me home’ like some eager puppy caught her interest more than the unusual design of its horn. “You see,” Nina repeated in time to save Isadora from an impulsive purchase, “in the study, Victor wasn't being… himself. He kept asking Bernard questions instead of just saying what he wanted and saying what would be best. Almost like he was nervous." She tilted her head. "Which he isn't, normally." "He wanted something," Isadora said. “He can be pretty persuasive sometimes. Talking about how different our triggers are, and how he might use it. I should have known he was fishing. He wanted Bernard to give him permission. Do you think that’s something he’d say yes to?” Isadora paused for a moment, trying to recalibrate her mental model of how these things worked. She had no idea whether Brock, or Bernard, would be willing to hand Victor the keys to Stella’s mind; but she also knew that the question was purely academic, because it wasn’t Bernard’s permission he would need. She wondered how Nina’s worldview could be missing that detail; though if there hadn’t been other daddies and littles in the neighbourhood before now, perhaps the topic had never come up. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you,” Nina’s tone changed quickly, apparently misinterpreting Isadora’s moment of deep thought. “Is that something that scares you? Someone else having that power, or just Victor? Sorry, am I prying now? I know that’s a more personal thing. Or… or maybe it’s an exciting thought?” “What kind of differences?” Isadora asked, jumping back to one point in the conversation that she was most curious about, and at the same time giving herself a reason not to think about the scenes Nina could have been imagining. “Differences?” “Yeah, you said they were talking about the differences in our triggers. I kind of assumed they were the same thing. When you told me… when we had that conversation in the art room, what you described sounded the same to me, just with different words. Makes you… lose control, doesn’t it?” “Oh, I guess,” Nina said, her blushes already rising. “It’s just… they were talking about these subtle differences. Like, it does the same thing, but in a different way. So it feels different.” “That’s interesting,” Isadora said. “So what’s the difference? Is it just about losing control?” “Okay, so.” Nina seemed to be choosing her words carefully, in the way of someone who overheard something they only half understood. “Bernard said something about you being able to fight it. And Daddy didn’t really get that, he was trying to give advice on how to fix that, maybe trying to imply that it would be different if he was allowed to use it, you know? But Bernard wasn’t biting, at least from the bit I heard. So… they let you out but you can still fight it?” She seemed so confused that for once Isadora thought it would be easiest to give a straight answer. Or at least turn the question around. “Yeah, I can hold it a little. Not as much as I’d like, though. That’s kind of the point. Can’t you?” “That’s the point,” Nina gave a little laugh, and then maybe realised that the comment could be a little hard to understand, because a second later she continued: “That’s what Bernard said, too. I didn’t really get it. I mean, the whole… the hypnosis thing is about not having the chance to fight, isn’t it? He says the word, and I freeze and just… let it all out, right where I am. It’s a way to show me that I’m not in control. Sometimes it takes me a second to realise what I’m doing. I didn’t get it to start with, but I think now I can admit that the helplessness is kind of intense. But, apparently you can fight it…” “I can try,” Isadora said, trying to push her own embarrassment to the back of her mind so she wouldn’t be blushing quite as incandescently as her friend. “For a minute or two. He’s still in control. It doesn’t really make me do anything immediately, but it makes me feel… desperate. So bad I know I’m going to… you know…” She went silent as Nina’s gaze suddenly shifted. She could hear Alison’s voice getting closer again, and Kaylee regaling the others with some anecdote about someone coiling a garden hose the wrong way, whatever that was about. Whatever the topic of conversation, they were too close now to continue a conversation about hypnotic triggers. “What’s this one supposed to be?” Nina said, her attention suddenly back on the toys in front of her. She was gesturing towards a teddy bear with a shiny black mask, its joints posed in a way that didn’t look like it could be comfortable no matter which way up you placed it. “I mean… I don’t really get it. Is it lying down or standing up?” “I don’t get a lot of things,” Isadora answered with a brief shrug. “Like some of the things Bernard does. Sometimes, I’m sure he just likes to watch me squirm.” Her eyes met Nina’s, and after a second of hesitation she was sure that the explanation had been understood. “That’s when you tell him to make his own dinner,” Kaylee quickly joined the conversation. “What’re you talking about?” “Just in general,” Isadora said with a shrug. “There’s nothing wrong with a little teasing,” Nina said, though it was hard to know what she was actually responding to this time. “We were looking at this bear,” Isadora held it up. “Its paws are pointing in all different directions. Do you think she’s supposed to be pointing at something? Or is one of these stretched out to support her lying down?” The others had plenty of opinions about the teddy, as it turned out. Kaylee thought it was supposed to be a villain, and that the mask was the point. Alison thought it was just badly designed, although all of the others in the range seemed to be fine. When they headed off in the direction of Emilio’s, they left it standing on its head, where it balanced surprisingly well with all four legs pointing in different directions. The unorthodox toys had sparked some kind of conversation about how much power it was healthy to cede to someone else; and there was a healthy discussion going on about the difference between giving up control and having it taken away. Everyone seemed to have their own opinion, and that conversation kept running in the background right through lunch, in between speculation about the ULF whenever some mention of the upcoming equinox deadline appeared on the silent TV in the corner; or about Zannah’s love life between whoever wasn’t currently in earshot of Barbara. Isadora contributed where she could, but it seemed she didn’t have much to contribute today. Maybe that was because she didn’t feel qualified to address questions of relationship dynamics, or because she was starting to feel that Stella wouldn’t agree with most of the answers she wanted to suggest. Or perhaps it was just that there were too many other things on her mind. She laughed when it was appropriate and agreed when agreement was easy, but mostly watched and listened. Travel arrangements were one topic they couldn’t afford. Barbara Glaze and Alison had arrived together, but now Barbara insisted that she wanted to give her daughter a lift home to show her something; a conversation which quickly swept over all the others and turned into something like musical chairs between the available cars. It was harder than it might have been today because some of the women would be heading straight to a party that evening, so wouldn’t be able to drive for others. It looked briefly like Alison might be stuck; but Isadora stepped in to offer her a ride. She accepted gratefully, and the group’s conversation turned straight back to bemoaning the manners a plumber who had rudely spoken to Barbara with a foreign accent even after she told him not to. The food was excellent, as always. After lunch they walked around some of the other Exchange buildings, where they found the usual wide range of wares to stare at and maybe one or two trinkets that someone might think of buying. Sometimes everyone listened to the person who was talking, and sometimes they broke up into two or three smaller conversations, but Isadora didn’t hear anything that she felt particularly qualified to respond to. And then, all too soon, they needed to start heading off. Isadora made her excuses and nipped back to pick up her bracelet. Miss Hardison had it ready in a labelled box under her counter; and even had the right tool to hand so she could reconnect the separated links. Isadora thanked her, and admired the way the bracelet sat comfortably on her wrist. Somehow it felt natural there; replacing an earlier feeling that something was missing. She hadn’t realised until now just how quickly she had gotten used to wearing something new, but the weight was so natural. The two replaced beads hadn’t changed the fit or the balance at all. She was still turning it absently as she crossed the parking lot to where Alison was waiting. “All sorted?” Alison asked. “All sorted,” Isadora agreed, and unlocked the car. For the first few minutes of the journey they talked about nothing in particular. They could agree on the food, share opinions about the odd teddy bear, and give different takes on whether Kaylee’s new hair colour really looked as natural as she thought. It was easy enough conversation, the kind that didn’t ask much of either of them, and Isadora was glad of it. It was good to talk, but Isadora’s mind was still on Nina; on the differences between their triggers, and how much care Dr Rennie must have put into making sure that everything was right for each subject. As much as anything else, that seemed to prove that Lorenzo was too thoughtful to be involved in crime. And she was sure that there was something else she should have been thinking about with respect to Nina as well; though she wasn’t sure what it actually was. She hadn’t expected Alison to be the one changing the subject in that direction. “It’s nice you’re getting on well with Nina,” she said. “She looked so happy, messing about with that weird kink teddy.” “Isn’t she always?” Isadora asked with a shrug. “Yeah. Nina is always a happy bunny now, but she seems kind of distant at times. Like she’s got some big secret she’s keeping from us, you know? And she wasn’t really like that before you came along. Maybe you’ve been a good influence on her?” “I doubt it. Unless she needs someone to teach her how to get mad at her partner,” Isadora answered, laughing a bit more than she needed to. Somehow, what had seemed like a flippant comment felt a little too close to home once she heard the words aloud, and she decided she needed to tone them down a little by continuing: “…for no reason. That seems to be my biggest talent lately.” “I don’t think she’d be interested in those lessons. She’s so devoted now, you know? Like she was talking about how she’s going to make him happy once they’re married. Almost feels like she doesn’t think about herself anymore. And I’d be ready to step in and tell the guy to make sure he’s treating her well, but… well, she’s so happy. And I have to believe that’s real. So there’s something really great there.” “Something you need to come up with interesting stories about?” “Oh, you bet. After she was at that retreat thing, I kind of wondered if she had some kind of falling-out with her family. Like, maybe they don't approve of Victor, and she's had to make a choice. Because if she hasn't got anyone in her corner except him, of course she's going to be extra devoted. What else has she got?” “You’re good with these kinds of stories,” Isadora said, a noncommittal answer trying not to think too hard about what that would suggest about Nina’s life. But Alison caught what that tone could mean. “Yeah, I don’t buy it either,” she said with a shrug, and turned her head to watch the traffic drifting past for a moment. “But it’s my best guess for why she’d change so completely. You’ve got a different theory?” “Well, I think…” Isadora started, putting the words together to dismiss the question so she could avoid thinking about anything too complex. But then an idea struck, something that might just be enough to satisfy Alison. If she could help her friend not worry, without giving her the impetus to ask more questions, that had to be a good thing. Didn’t it? “Hmm?” Alison prompted, and Isadora knew that she had to answer this time. There was no way anyone would believe the lack of a theory now, and one that was almost close to the truth was the only idea that came to mind. The only hard part would be how to phrase it; but as soon as she started speaking, the context seemed to bloom naturally from some fertile area of her imagination. “I just thought… You know your books? Allie Starr?” She paused for a second. From the passenger seat the tone of the silence changed slightly. They hadn’t talked about Alison’s writing before; and in reality Isadora only knew her pen name because she had access to the Agency’s profiles on their neighbours. “I saw some of them on your bookshelf and was curious enough to get a copy of one or two. I would never have guessed from talking to you. And I wouldn’t have wanted to read something like that either, the media makes the whole… you know… explicit genre sound like something filthy and disgusting. But when you actually give them a chance, it’s about people and intense emotions, more than body parts and depraved acts. It’s one of those things that people might have a visceral reaction to the idea of, without knowing what it’s really about.” “And you think… what?” Alison was answering carefully now. Not making up elaborate fantasies about other people, but maybe a little relieved that there weren’t any more questions coming about her own interests. “Victor’s some kind of uber-dom who’s chained his fiancée up in the basement for forty days and forty nights and reshaped her into a dedicated submissive?” “Probably not,” Isadora said, holding back a giggle at how close to the truth that outlandish guess had actually been. “For one thing, they don’t have a basement. The whole neighbourhood is built on the buried ruins of a mine, so no cellars anywhere to be found.” “I… I didn’t actually know that. But with so much confidence, I guess you’re right about the local history. I never figured you for such a voracious reader. So… what’re you thinking?” “I’m wondering if Nina is… into that. Like, felt the draw of submission, but got put off by all the mainstream media stuff. Feminist upbringing, feels like she has to prove herself equal to her man, and maybe she came off as too… abrasive at times because she was overcompensating.” “Go on?” “Maybe Victor sensed that in her, even if she was trying to hide it. Maybe that’s what drew him to her. But she’d fight it at first, because she’s always been taught that she has to. And then one day… he could send her to a specialist resort or something. Those places must exist, where they have all the equipment. A hotel where people don’t need to hide who they really are, where everybody talks openly about the weirdest kinky stuff. Until the stigma fades a bit and she finds she can admit, maybe even try out, the fantasies she’s always kept buried.” This time, the silence from the other seat was thoughtful and contemplative. Isadora saw the white-roofed farmhouse drifting past, and knew it wouldn’t be long until they were back at the entrance to Evergreen Estates. “That’s a very specific theory,” Alison said finally. “It fits, though. It would explain a sudden willingness to defer, and an increase in happiness too.” “It does. It fits very well.” Another pause. “So is that what your business trip was really about?”

I am up this morning and my Vivo diaper covered with a plastic pant is very wet, but no messies this morning for some odd reason.

Good chapter .