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    • my tharpist  said that i was just making  it  accepting  to self  by  just  saying  i  wear for prostate and oab  and  to use as a relexing  tool   i  think part is thrapy  but the other is  just way of saying  it  wrong     oh  and  u say it produce  shame  and humuation  
    • No fair!  You paid less AND got an included stent? :-p I'm interested to hear about the stent - it was one thing no urologist would consider that I could find in the US. But it sounds like this is a far more considered use case than just "hold muscles open." I'll be curious to see how it goes - good luck!
    • 27. My Mistress’s Choice I pulled up at the side of Brock Street, wondering if I would see Ffrances walking across the patch of scrubby ground there on her way to work. I’d just dropped Tess off at school, after a long conversation that had left me feeling drained but also optimistic. The little girl had wet the bed again. My suspicions had been confirmed when I saw her loading the washing machine, but she’d still tried to deny it. When I called her on that, she had gone on to tell me that she was an adult who could solve her problems by herself. I repeated something I’d read in a waiting-room magazine recently, about the environmental cost of too-frequent laundry cycles. I didn’t know how much difference it really made for a single household, but that wasn’t the point. The point was that it gave me a reason to talk to her, and a rational excuse to start getting her back into diapers. I told her that there were Goodnites in the drawers of the changing table, padded underwear made for teen girls whose nighttime bladder control wasn’t completely developed. I reminded her that it wasn’t a rare thing; that there were probably two or three girls in her school classes with the same problem, even if they didn’t admit it. I didn’t actually know the figures, but that sounded believable. She’d objected, of course she had. She felt like she had to act as an adult, and needed to hide her babyish tendencies. Wetting the bed could conceivably be something that happened to adults too, if they’d drunk more than usual. But she seemed to think that wearing diapers again would make her feel like a baby. I didn’t push too hard for her to change that perspective, because that was exactly what I was hoping for. But I did tell her that not taking precautions was the behaviour of a careless child, and any adult would be ready to use protection. This time, she trusted me fully enough to accept my words. She had accepted that she would think about wearing the Goodnites, and I could only hope that when she found them comfortable, the knowledge that she was wearing diapers would help her to see herself as a baby a little more easily. I’d decided that she should have a few days without nighttime accidents now, to let her get used to the idea of wearing them. Thursday would probably be the best; long enough to be used to it, but not long enough for her to decide protection was no longer needed. “Morning, babe!” Ffraances’s voice jerked me out of a momentary introspection. I hadn’t even noticed her walking between the pines, but she had evidently seen my truck and come around to the passenger door. I was very surprised when she got in; that had never been a part of the routine on the days when I managed to catch her before she arrived at work. “Fancy seeing you here,” I answered, trying to hide just how surprised I had been. “Can I offer you a lift?” “As much as I’d love to ride off into the sunset, I think I need to get to work today. But my first meeting of the day just texted to cancel, and I thought I can probably afford ten minutes talking to the most fascinating case in my collection.” “Are you saying I’m crazy?” “You’re dating me, aren’t you? And you know there’s nothing I’d like more than an excuse to get you strapped down on the couch, answering all of my… probing questions.” “I’d like it more.” “You would. But I don’t think we have the time for that now. Or the couch and restraints. But I think you wanted to talk to me about something else today. Would I be right?” “There was one thing. I spoke to Tess again this morning, while she was loading the washing machine.” “She’s still wetting the bed? I don’t think it’s happened often while I’ve been there.” “About twice a week. She doesn’t want you to know, she thinks you’d judge. So she mostly does it when you’re not staying at our place, or when she’s really stressed as an exceptional thing.” “I figured. And the tablets…?” “Sleeping pills and diuretics. Same as the first ones you found. I’ve been keeping an eye on the medicine cabinet, and it always seems to be the same amount. Think she’s making a routine of it. I tried to ask her, and… well. She didn’t deny it, just nodded and didn’t say a word. Said that she has trouble sleeping, which would explain the sleeping pills, but… I think she’s too ashamed to talk about it, really. I told her that there’s a safer way, using hypnosis, but suggested that she shouldn’t try random things off the Internet without checking first if they’re going to have a bigger effect on her mental health. Hopefully she’ll consider it.” “Well, I wanted to talk about that as well. I’ve looked into some of the stories on that website you found, and the hypnosis tips on there as well. I’d say that half of the people giving advice got all their knowledge from TV and movies. They’re telling people how to do it safely based on pop-culture tropes that don’t work that way in the real world. You might find somebody competent on there, but the odds are against it.” “I kind of guessed as much. I mean, I don’t know that stuff, but it didn’t make me feel confident. But you looked, right? Do you think that what she wants is possible, and could be safer than the drugs?” “I think so. I could probably do it, if she’s sure this is what she wants. But like I said before, I think the biggest danger is that it would be habit forming; something she might end up using more often until it becomes every night. And overdoing it could permanently weaken those muscles. So, I think it has to be a permission based thing. If she wants to… to have an accident, she needs to ask you. Or me, I guess, but I don’t think she’d consider that.” I nodded slowly. That sounded like it could be a perfect way to help my cousin understand how much she wanted to be a baby. If we could get it right, it would be all the proof she needed. “A lot of the recordings you can find online focus on trigger words, a word or phrase which reminds you to act or feel a particular way. But I think that it can be better to focus on a ‘trigger’ that includes context. For example, we could tell her that if someone responsible and trustworthy tells her that she is or is not going to… to have an accident, then it will be natural to go with that. It means that she still needs to check with us when she wants it, so there’s no temptation to overdo it.” “That sounds like just what she’s been hoping for,” I answered slowly. “I just hope it will work for her. But at the same time… she’s forbidding me to tell you about her problem. At all. Even when I said that I think you might be willing to consider it. So if you say something to her, she’ll think I broke her confidence, and if you don’t she’ll carry on thinking that you wouldn’t understand.” “I don’t understand, Gabby. But that doesn’t mean I’m against it. Whatever makes her happy, right? Don’t worry, I’ll be over at your place at the weekend, and I’ll have time to help with tidying up. So maybe I can give her a demonstration that I’m okay with not acting your age.” “Thank you,” I said with a smile. “You think of everything. And you keep on reminding me why I love you so much.” She didn’t have the words for that, but I breathed in sharply as I felt my seat suddenly reclining, and five seconds later Ffrances was in my lap, knees to either side of my hips. And then she kissed me, and I no longer had the presence of mind to wonder how late she was going to be for work.     Now, I think the two threads are in sync… this chapter takes place on the same day as TLNS chapter 24. Does it seem to line up? And what do you think?   Oh… that was a very short chapter. So, here's another one: 28. My Guilty Pleasure I’d woken up early in the morning, comparing myself to Tess’s parents. Quite an unfavourable comparison, in my mind. I knew that they loved her very much, and that they had done everything they could to ensure her a comfortable life. But at the same time, they had left to travel halfway around the world, and I got the impression this wasn’t a rare thing. Even when they were staying in one home, they would vanish for days or weeks at a time to attend business conferences and further their careers. I’d thought less of them when I heard that. Having a baby girl to care for was the ultimate goal in life for me, and I couldn’t understand why anyone would ever leave a child to fend for herself. But then I had been told to attend this conference; I just didn’t have the choice. Jessop had come in to give me the assignment, so I knew it was important, and I felt that so much was riding on my acceptance. It could be the key to a promotion, or more. So I’d agreed to it, dashed home to leave a note for Tess, and then boarded the next train. I told myself it wasn’t that bad, that it was only one night. And I’d asked Ffrances to check on her in the morning if possible; assuming that a week had been long enough to get her sleep cycles back into a normal rhythm. But still, I felt bad about being so far away from my baby. On my return, I had asked two of the temps – Carter and Walcroft – to make sure the project calendars were all up to date, so I would know well in advance if anything like that was likely to come up again. I didn’t think it would; Upper Ashfields was a progressive garden village, or a future community, according to the planning committees, and nearly every client was impressed by the ease with which we could host all of their functions. Accommodation, corporate buildings, and local shops were all connected by pedestrian bridges and tunnels; every building was separated from the roads by a park. For SYL, which owned a lion’s share of the village’s integrated business and technology park, it was always easier to host clients, and would give them a business advantage as well. It was good for me, because having a world-class conference centre meant that in most situations our clients would come to us. I didn’t like travelling. Later in the day, after dealing with everything that had cropped up in my absence from the office, I looked at my schedule and thought that I might have a chance to finish early for once. I had certainly billed more client hours than I usually did that week, and I was owed a little personal time. But of course, nothing else ever goes smoothly. One of my other clients was coming in to make a final payment, which he wanted to do in person, and that meant I had to be there to wish him success and try to recommend the other services that the corporate overlords could offer; like legal, insurance, and accounting services. While I waited for my last visitor of the day, I allowed myself to get a little distracted. I might still be in the office, but all of my actual work was waiting on other people now, so I had nothing to do but browse the web and catch up with some stories I had started reading. And if a couple of those gripping narratives were about young women being turned into young children by one coincidence or another, there was certainly nothing wrong with that. It was good to broaden my mind, and if I was lucky it might give me some new ideas. When we had collected payment, and Mr Mahel had signed his exit contract to say that he was satisfied with my performance and had nothing to complain about, it was time for me to go. It wasn’t too late, and I thought I would still get back in time to cook dinner for Tess. Until, that was, I checked the tray of the printer and found a document I had certainly not been expecting to see again. It was a page of a short story, The Baby Button, and I’d read the latest chapter only an hour before. I was certain, however, that I hadn’t printed it out. I never did. I quickly fed all of the pages into the shredder, not sure what else to do with them, and then peered around the office wondering if anyone could have seen them. It was quiet; we didn’t have enough staff for a full office right now, and most of them were working from home or were in one of the meeting rooms right now. But I still had to work out how I could have printed something like that without meaning to. Was there some shortcut that could be clicked by accident, or something like that? I started to get paranoid, looking around my computer and trying to work out how I could possibly have made such a catastrophic mistake. In the end, I checked my printer queue. That was accessed through the departmental portal, and wasn’t a setting on my own computer, so I knew it would be both accurate, and probably entirely unhelpful. I could see a log of every document that had been printed, both assigned to my user account, and billed to my team’s budget code, as well as everything printed from my computer. I double checked, but there was nothing on there that I didn’t recognise. It had to be a computer bug, I was sure of that. But now, thanks to my trust in the internal organisation of my office, I could be sure that the document wouldn’t have had a cover sheet with my name on if it hadn't come through the right queue. There would be no way for anyone to link them back to me, and if someone had seen the words before I disposed of them, they would likely to assume that they were the property of a creep like Tony, who seemed to divide his coworkers into superiors to avoid, subordinate men to yell at, and tits to stare at. I could feel relieved, for now. I was in the clear, but I knew I would have to be a lot more careful with my browsing in the future if things like this could happen.
    • @ work, so no padding for me. I thought I was going to get a break for this Monday night. Nope......... stomach had its usual Monday temper tantrum.  I threw on a Kiddo white Xtreme for Church. (Nothing for Saturday because I had to come out to the hotel to do my laundry.) 😒😖 I wet that before I went to bed around 1pm. Wet it again when I got back up around 10:30 that night. Changed into a Tiny Tails before I found me some go juice that I'm currently enjoying. Wet that one twice before changing into a cheap cloth back before my walk. I was a little worried that I was going to end up pooping my pants during my walk, but thankfully, I did not.  (No big if that got no use.) 
    • I'm seeing $3.59-3.79 for 85. I think it was over $4 when I fueled up on Friday morning, but I used some of my Kroger fuel points and brought it down about $.60 cents.
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