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Rainbow Diapers
A space where our Lesbian, Gay, Bisexual and Trans members can discuss related issues.
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It’s simply a reflection of wider society’s social sanction against collectively undesired behaviours. Humans are biologically programmed to be waste-avoidant (disease minimisation) and the herd behavioural default of repugnance is going to be hard to beat. Think about how many excretive terms are used pejoratively in our species. It cuts across cultures. Similar to your example, “Bedwetters” remains a popular insult to be flung at political factions within a party who have wavering commitment to policy positions based on potential electoral backlash. As a bedwetter, I personally dislike hearing it but there you go. It sucks to be me. Toddlers across the planet will continue to hurl “poo-face!” insults at one another when they think the grown-ups aren’t watching. Offending incontinent people is just thoughtless by-catch although I don’t doubt recreational diaper users would remain firmly in the social sanction cross-hairs. There’s already such a conga line of minority groups professing offence at such a wide range of things seeking all sorts of behavioural concessions from the general mob that I’d be pretty reluctant to grow that pie. -
OMG my tooth hurts! Really bad now. Of course it holds off to the weekend to start throbbing when it's too late to call about pain meds. -
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Just wondering if this makes sense, or maybe I'm just messed up in the head lol 😛 I love Scary Movies, but regarding Backrooms and diapers specifically: One of the thrills of imagining myself in diapers in this place is: not only that it's a place that breaks all rules of the norm. But (more to the point) there is a thrill of being captured by something powerful. I don't really want to sound dark, because I don't ever want to entertain demonic things. But there is a kind of excitement of imagining myself being in a scary hunted house with old wooden floors and being carried away in my diaper. This monster in my mind has many arms. I am tormented by being carried away into the darkness and tickled by hundreds of spider like fingers while struggling in my diaper to break free. -
By Kitty Angel · Posted
Wow, two whole months between chapters? I knew I'd been struggling with this one for a while, but didn't think it had been that long. Sorry for the wait; and I hope you remember where we were up to if you're reading this! 129. Cool Down The purple crayon had worn down to a stub, and Stella considered that a job well done. She set it back in the tin with the others, pressed both palms flat on the paper to smooth it, and looked at what she had made. She’d drawn a house, and she was very sure that it was their house even if the house on the page had four square, purple windows, a triangular roof, and a chimney with a spiral of smoke rising from it. Somewhere behind her, a page of Daddy’s book turned with a papery whisper, the same sound it had been making since the return from Lorenzo’s house. A part of her knew that he would be watching her now; waiting to see her picture. He might have a book with him, but she knew his attention was all on her; making her feel safe and cared for. But those thoughts were a little too big to think about right now. Instead Stella sat back on her heels and looked at the drawing a little longer. A few months ago, in a memory that shimmered in and out of focus, she remembered drawing houses in a very different way. Colour-coded labels indicating possible access and escape routes, little notes estimating the best time to get from one place to another, and every surveillance or security device carefully marked. This one was just a house. She had made it because purple was a nice colour, which was all the reason she needed. That thought had edges to it. Edges that she could only see because she was starting to think again. Instead of just going with the flow, she was starting to realise how nice it felt not to need to think; and she was thinking about all the effort Daddy was putting in to let her feel so safe. “Having fun, sweetie?” his voice came from behind her, and Stella nodded automatically. But the more analytical part of her mind was already wondering how much he had picked up by watching the way she moved. Did he already know she was starting to grow up again? “Would you like to be a big girl for a little bit?” She knew she could have said no. She could have stayed a baby, and let Brock take care of her. He was already an expert in providing comfort and security. But Isadora knew they had serious thinking to talk about as well, and she didn’t want to take him for granted. She’d had plenty of fun today, and it would be all the sweeter if she could be responsible as well; show him that this was a treat rather than a need. She uncrossed her legs and stretched out, before taking a slow, deep breath. She tried to remind herself that she was an adult, and that baby Stella was only one role out of many that she could play. And, little by little, she started to feel more like herself. “Tea?” Brock offered, and Isadora quickly nodded. He wasn’t offering her juice this time, so he’d probably already figured that she wanted to get back to being a real operative. She would probably have asked for coffee, but she was starting to realise now that Daddy knew what was best. Or perhaps that was just the last traces of the childish thoughts in her head; but it felt okay to go along with it for a little while anyway. He left the nursery, presumably to fetch some tea. Isadora stretched and took a few steps around the room. She repeated her own name a few times as well, trying to remind herself that there was no need for Stella here and now. By the time Brock came back with two cups of green tea, she was already starting to feel more like herself. “I should change,” she said, before he could offer any other suggestions. “Old enough to do it yourself now?” “I think so.” This time, the suggestion wasn’t a problem. She was still embarrassed, but it was also kind of funny in its own way. Teasing her about being a child when it would have been so easy to get back there. “I’ll see you in a few minutes.” It didn’t take long for Isadora to get out of her diaper and change back into adult underwear once she got to the bathroom. And then she headed back to the master bedroom – her room. She stared at the wardrobe again for a few minutes, trying to find some combination of clothes that could show Brock she wanted to be taken seriously, without giving the impression of trying too hard. But after a long thought, she realised there was no need to play games here. If she chose what to wear based on the impression she wanted to give, Brock would only take away what he thought she wanted him to think. To tell him how she was really feeling, perhaps it would be better just to say it. She smelled ever so slightly of lemons, in any case. The scent on those baby wipes would take a little while to fade away, and she knew there was little chance she would get through the evening with all her adult dignity. Dressing up wouldn’t make a difference. So she quickly took off the too-fancy outfit she’d chosen for the day, and pulled on a pyjama top which came down a little past her knees. Relaxed, not ostentatious, just comfortable. And with a print of butterflies which was cute enough without being distractingly childish. “All clean now?” Brock asked with a smile as she returned to the kitchen. “Fresh diaper, or are you going to be a big girl now?” “All grown up.” Isadora flashed a smile as well. Somehow, now that she’d played into the childish role, she couldn’t resent jokes about her adulthood. Those things were little quirks of their relationship, rather than something that had been forced upon her, and that made a world of difference. “Couldn’t you tell?” “I didn’t notice on the way to the Arrencani house,” he answered. “Was there a note of baby powder in the air that I should have picked up on? I’m quite surprised, honestly, that you could hide something so prominent from me.” “It wasn’t…” she started, and then caught herself. Her first instinct had been to respond like a woman whose parter had caught her in a white lie. But they were operatives, their whole lives were built of lies. Acknowledging that she had managed to get something past him, even a small detail like her choice of underwear, had to be a compliment. “Thank you. I think you would have noticed if you’d had any reason to expect…” “That’s good tradecraft,” he said. “I mean that. People with a lot more experience and resources have tried to hide things from me, and failed. I think we're starting to see your full potential as an operative now.” “Thank you. I just wanted you to know… You don’t need to protect me anymore. You don’t need to shield me from being treated like a baby by your friends. I actually… I mean, at the start it stressed me out, because it was taking away my control. But I kind of realised it’s pretty similar to what we did in my apartment. When we first got to know each other. And if I see it like that, I think I can enjoy it a little. I wanted you to know that. I’m not just… I’m not just saying that because I want to prove myself. I really enjoyed it.” “And it made it easier for me to ask about Arrencani’s background as well,” Brock said, not directly addressing the confession. “About Alessia. And some other things I wanted to investigate.” “I told you–” “I know. Arrencani isn’t in charge of the crime family that bears his name. I’ve got enough evidence to confirm that now. Roman is certainly involved, the targets should have tipped me off about that. And Marco thinks he’s in charge, but Roman probably sees him as a poser. The groundskeepers… I’m not sure yet. And Enzo, I think might have his fingers in it, but it’s hard to see who knows about which parts of the business.” “You’re sure now?” Isadora asked, one eyebrow raising slightly. After all the effort she’d put in, the times that her partner didn’t seem to be taking her seriously, now he could just accept that she was right? “I had to check for myself,” he said. “But you were right. You spotted something I missed. And now, I think we need to put all our cards on the table. Make sure we’ve got our stories straight, now there’s only a couple of weeks before the equinox.” “Right.” “To start with, I think we should go over what you told Lorenzo. You had to have planned that with him, and if Bernard’s going to have learned about what he was doing wrong, I need to know what his side of the story is.” He paused for just a second there, and perhaps realised that Isadora had been expecting to talk about the case first. “We still need to maintain our covers. We should get our background in order, a solid foundation to work from, before we go into any more depth on our real targets.” That made sense, lining up with what she’d learned in fieldcraft classes that seemed an eternity ago now. So Isadora shrugged, and they talked about the latest bump in the road for Bernard and Stella’s relationship, as she helped him to prepare something simple and hearty for their dinner. It was still a little early for dinner, but Isadora’s lunch had only been a selection of fruit pieces and crackers while they watched movies, and some age appropriate snacks while they were playing in between. She was starting to get hungry again, and for now the desire to be a child was outweighed by her preference for food that was really filling. Brock clearly knew what she was thinking; he was chopping onions already and gestured her towards a basket of new potatoes. He was so good at reading people; and always seemed to be one step ahead. Isadora, on the other hand, still found it hard to be sure when someone was listening in. Sometimes Brock would talk casually about their mission when they were at home, and at other times he would put on a performance for potential eavesdroppers. It was like he had a sixth sense for these things. Isadora could only follow his lead. But she felt that there had to be something she could say that wouldn’t be out of character if anyone was listening. “I’m sorry I had to put on such a show,” she said. “I just wanted to be sure you’d understand. It’s a hard thing to talk about. I tried to tell you, but–” “You told me,” he said. “I thought you were trying to impress me. The first few times after you came back from the nursery, it really seemed like you were scared. Trying to claw back your responsibility.” “And that’s true. I want to be able to do things. And I want you to respect me. But that doesn’t mean I hate being babied. Just… not all the time. Right?” Brock focused on the food in front of him for now. Isadora didn’t know how much of his slightly-awkward silence was for real, and how much might be just a performance for the sake of any eavesdroppers. Was it Brock, or Bernard, who didn’t know what to say? And, for that matter, was it Isadora who was so nervous to hear what he was about to say, or were those Stella’s feelings she was acting out automatically after so long in the role? The boundary between those roles was getting softer the longer they stayed here. “If you’re okay with it,” Brock said slowly, while one hand used a tiny sieve to fish something out of a pan… “If you want to be the baby again, you can always ask. And you know I always want to make you smile. I’m sorry I pushed you so hard, and I hope that I haven’t spoiled what we had.” “It’s not that,” she answered. The words were right there, but she hadn’t swept the room for bugs, and she didn’t know if there was still a laser mic pointing at them. “I mean… it was kind of scary, but I shouldn’t have been so reluctant to do all these things. I just want to… I mean… I can’t say the things I want to say. Maybe it would be easier if we talk about this over dinner?” “We can do that,” he answered with a simple nod. “Just remember, you never have to feel guilty about asking for what you want. Whatever it is, if it will make you happy, I want to know.” The rest of their conversation was in-character. Talking in vague terms about Bernard’s friends, about what Stella could remember of the movies, and about what she needed to do to help get food ready. By the time they carried everything through to the nursery, Isadora felt a lot more comfortable about the very serious discussion they needed to have about what was appropriate while they were on this case. She was sure that Brock would listen, and now she was starting to build confidence that he would actually take her requests seriously. The only gap in the picture now was that she really couldn’t be sure what she was going to ask for.
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