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AARDVARK, PLATYPUS, AND TWINKLETOES: ATTORNEYS AT LAW, SCENE 32: WELCOME ABOARD, BRENDA LEE 1 2 3 4 16
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I am sitting here in my morning pink NorthShore MegaMax USA diaper that is very wet with a firm poopie getting pancaked inside my diaper that feels more sticky again rather than squishy, and soooo comforting. I went potty in my diaper about 45 minutes ago, almost immediately after I got out of bed while in the kitchen getting coffee and checking emails. I don't mind changing and cleaning up after I soiled my diaper, simply a perfunctory responsibility that only takes a few minutes to become fresh, clean, sweet smelling and ready for a new diaper. I am thinking about a Seni Quatro diaper and plastic pants for work. I'll wet my diaper during the day, but no messies around colleagues. -
By Kitty Angel · Posted
122. Back-Handed Confession “What makes you think…” Isadora started, her mind jumping straight back to her field training; two weeks with Jones lecturing them in a classroom about how to deflect conversations away from inconveniently specific questions. But she couldn’t do that. The question was too close to home; too personal. And an accomplished author would probably be better than most at picking out attempts to change the subject. She must have written enough scenes like this for her characters. Isadora’s voice just dried up, and it took willpower to keep her eyes on the road ahead, instead of turning to watch Alison on the passenger seat. “You’re not an author,” Alison answered. “When you’re coming up with some fantasy, you pick the high-concept details. The things that matter, not the little details that make it feel real. But when you’re talking about where Nina might have been, your theory contains more subtle elements that most people might not think of. I can tell you’re drawing from personal experience there. Either that or a specific story trope you’ve read a dozen times, so you have a clear mental image of it. That would mean my books aren’t the only ones you’ve read close to that subject.” “I… uhh…” Isadora mumbled. She knew that she wouldn’t be able to hide everything, but she didn’t know what she could really say. “Am I that transparent? I mean… yeah, I read a lot. And I’ve come across your books before, if that’s what you mean. I just feel like it’s something I have to hide. Sometimes, anyway.” “You don’t have to hide anything with me, hon,” Alison answered carefully. “I mean, I know what it’s like to be bullied for reading too much. I’m only lucky the kids at school didn’t care what I was reading. But here… whatever the secret is, it might be refreshing to let it out. You know I’ve got my own secret life. And believe me, I’m not the only one in this neighbourhood.” They were coming close to Evergreen Estates now, but rather than driving up to the gate Isadora decided to take one of the back roads, to circle a little before going home. She told herself it was just a precaution, so she could make sure the conversation was finished before dropping Alison off. So she could be sure Stella’s reputation in the neighbourhood didn’t suffer. “I guess…” she mumbled. It would feel so good to be able to tell someone the truth, but she was already planning a better lie. She had to keep her real identity to herself, which meant she would have to reveal something big enough to satisfy her friend. And Alison was probably right that she could trust her. “It was just a theory,” she said. “As wild as any of the stories that you tell. The ones you come up with when…” and there she paused. “When you know somebody’s hiding something, I think. And you’re curious, but you don’t want to intrude when someone doesn’t want you to know, so you make up what it could have been if they were a character in one of your books. Right?” “Something like that,” Alison answered. “If the housewife thing doesn’t pan out, maybe you should try being a shrink. Or an interrogator.” “Anyway, you make up stories. I figured that out. And I did the same. I was curious about Nina, but she looked so vulnerable, you know? I didn’t want to hurt her, so I made up a story that was good enough to let me imagine it was an answer. And then I kind of… I might have wondered how that would feel. I might have… mentioned it to Bernard. And that’s the kind of thing where he doesn’t want to disappoint me, so I think he might have read some books about it. Maybe some of yours, I’m sure he could check the history of what I’ve been reading on my phone. Maybe I wasn’t clear enough…” “He knew this fantasy was in your mind,” Alison filled in the gap. “He didn’t know you were coming up with the craziest possible theory about Nina’s time away, so he thought it might be something you wanted to try.” “Something like that,” Isadora mumbled, hoping that her story was believable this time. “So he surprised you?” Alison said. “More or less,” Isadora kept her eyes on the road. She was still trying to work out how much it would be good to share, to make the story feel real. “You know, I still don’t know if that’s actually what Nina was up to. I maybe went a little too far trying to imagine what kind of… what kinks she might be into. And I don’t think there’s any chance I was right about that.” “But the theories you had, you got to experience… some version of that?” Alison said, then was quiet for a moment. “Look, you don’t have to tell me the whole story. I know that’s really personal. But something I learned to look for is emotional realism. I can tell the feelings are true in what you’re telling me, whether or not the details are. And that’s really brave. Thank you.” “I was just trying to tell stories…” Isadora mumbled. “And you experienced some flavour of something real. And I think there was something there you enjoyed?” “He’s… Maybe he’s better at reading me than I am,” Isadora said, trying to imagine how Stella would be feeling now. “Thank you. I won’t probe any more. But… if you want to talk, I’m here to listen. So you’ve got somebody to share with, who won’t judge you. And if you’re willing, it could help me a lot too. Whether it’s about the particular things you experienced, or the surprise of being plunged into something like that. Those are the details that can sell books, you know? But I’d never base something on you unless you’re okay with that.” “Maybe I will be,” Isadora said, finally approaching the gate and glancing up as the radio widget on her windshield opened the road into Evergreen Estates for her. “Some day. Now I’m still exploring, so it’s not such a… You know. You know what I mean.” The conversation carried on a little as they drifted along the neighbourhood streets. Vague questions, abstract comments which could apply to any of a dozen fetishes. But the things Isadora needed to share had been said, and by the time they turned onto Tennyson Avenue, the conversation had started to shift back to the new tiramisu at Emilio’s, and speculations about whether they should try the food at Gic Chic next time. “Thank you,” Alison said. “Thank you so much, Estelle. It must be hard to trust anyone with a story like than. And if I can help you to accept the things you’re still uncertain about, I’m always happy to listen. Whatever you decide about the other issue.” “Stella,” Isadora whispered, as the other woman got out of the car. It shouldn’t have elicited an emotional response to hear a friend calling her by her cover identity’s real name. But somehow Estelle no longer felt real; she was the childish girl, Stella, now, and somehow as Alison walked away she felt she should react as Stella would. It wasn't until she was back in her own garage, engine off, hands still on the wheel, that Isadora noticed the question that had qtomuietly sneaked into her mind while she wasn't paying attention. She hadn’t lied to Alison, not exactly. She’d been careful about the facts, in the way Stella would have been. But the feeling she'd described, the relief at no longer needing to hide from her true self… Alison had said it sounded like a real emotion, and Isadora wasn’t sure she could keep denying it. She had thought about it over and over. She had told herself that she was playing a role. That she was imagining how Stella felt. But what if some of those feelings had leaked over? What if she’d played the part so well that she could imagine really wanting it? Or the hypnosis had really affected her, in a way separate from Stella? Or what if she’d had these feelings all along, behind a wall of self-delusion, and playing the part had secretly been a way to set them free? She couldn’t believe that, but she couldn’t deny it either. Was that why her conversations with Brock about the hypnotic triggers had always felt so intense? Certainly, she’d been more nervous than a discussion about operational protocol merited. But that wasn’t something she could talk about now. Not when Brock wasn’t even willing to cooperate with her. Not when he kept wasting time investigating some imaginary Arrencani Crime Family, which had too much evidence she couldn’t find a way to dispute. Eventually, she opened the car door and made her way back into the house. She had so many things to think about, more than she had expected from a day out with her friends. Her mind was so full of options that she hadn’t even considered what she would say if she found Brock sitting in the lounge. “Good day?” he asked. “Fine. Good.” She was aware she was giving him more than he'd asked for. “Emilio’s for lunch. Martha’s nervous about something she won’t share, but I don’t think it could be relevant.” “What’s bothering you?” Of course he knew that her animosity towards him, which had been slowly fading, had jumped up a notch again. He probably watched everyone in his social circle with the same precision. But maybe the blunt question could be a positive here. So many people trusted him, but he would never let any of them know how much he was picking up from the vaguest body language. Maybe, she tried to believe, the fact that he told her some part of what he was thinking meant that he actually wanted to treat her as an equal more than a mark. But as soon as she thought that, her mind went back to the things he hadn’t said. “You had a conversation with Victor at the poker night,” she said. “About our triggers. The differences between mine and Nina’s.” A short pause. “Yes. He was fishing for permission. I didn’t notice, didn’t give him anything beyond what Eli already told him.” “You didn't mention it.” “Does it matter?” Brock answered, and finally looked up from his book. “He wanted to know more, I told him nothing. He kept on asking about the playdate he’s so eager for, I found an excuse to postpone it indefinitely.” “I know what he was fishing for,” Isadora said, frustrated again that her partner didn’t seem to think of keeping her in the loop as a real priority. “I just would have liked to know it happened.” “The playdate isn’t going to happen,” Brock answered. “I can stall forever. You don’t want to know about some hypothetical, do you? And about the triggers, you already know. And the rest of the conversation, Nina was going to tell you anyway. She was listening at the keyhole for close to fifteen minutes before Victor realised she was there. What do I need to say?” “I’m sorry,” she said, settling into the chair opposite him. “I guess I just… I still feel a little left out of the loop. Maybe I overreacted. But this is something we need to talk about.” Brock looked at her steadily before he responded. “There’s nothing to talk about,” he said. “I’m just stalling him. It’ll be the same every time, and I’ll tell you if he says something that actually matters.” “You don’t need to keep stalling,” she said, And this time there wasn’t a wall of nervousness making it harder for her to get the words out; instead it rolled over her like a tidal wave once the words were hanging in the air. And after saying that, she found that she was more afraid of leaving it hanging than saying the words. “Victor’s going to keep pushing,” she tried to explain. “The longer you put him off, the more it looks like there’s a reason. It's easier to just… our cover would hold up better if you actually organise something, if he has a feasible plan.” It was easier to say these things when she focused on the practical reasons. “We're supposed to be embedded. Couples like the Kleins don’t keep their friends at arm’s length indefinitely.” “Couples like the Kleins,” Brock countered, “don’t have to do anything that makes them uncomfortable.” “I’m… I mean, Stella isn’t uncomfortable with this,” she said; hoping she was clear enough that this was something she was able to do for the sake of their legends. If she could convince Brock, then she might be able to convince herself. “It’s only a playdate, and we’ve already established that she’s okay with some light regression now.” “The question is whether you want to do that,” he said carefully. “Are you really comfortable with that? Or are you just pushing yourself in the hope of contributing to the case? Is playing with Victor something you really want, or is it a way to get closer to Arrencani?” “I told you,” she grumbled, gritting her teeth again. “Lorenzo is not involved in arms trading. You need to start trusting me on that.” “That's not what I asked,” Brock said quietly, but she was already past the point of backing down. “You keep treating him like a confirmed target, but we know he can’t be! You haven’t shown me anything that couldn't be explained another way. Heck, you haven’t shown me anything. You’re filling in gaps with assumptions, and you’re not giving me the actual data those assumptions were based on.” “I’m filling in gaps with experience,” Brock said. “The pattern is there. Trust me, I’ve done this more than enough. I know how the ULF operates. Between the police reports and Malik’s presence, that’s enough to prove they’re getting the weapon from Arrencani.” “The pattern fits other interpretations too.” “Name one.” “I…” Isadora started, and then froze. Of course she couldn’t find any other options, because she had only the vaguest idea what evidence he could have found. He was just telling her what he had deduced, not how he got there, and that wasn’t enough to disprove his suspicions about Lorenzo. “I know we’re missing something,” she said. “Something that will make all the difference. Something that will show you Lorenzo has nothing to do with this.” “Maybe,” Brock said, and for a moment Isadora wondered if she had gotten through to him until he continued: “Maybe there’s another answer, if you can find it. Or maybe we have everything we need and you don't want it to be true.” “I’ll find it,” she said. She was determined now that the weekend’s shooting lesson would be a fruitful investigation. She didn’t know how or why it could help her, but she would find a way to make it useful. She had to. “And… that means you need to let me investigate. Even if that means playing along with who Victor thinks we are. I can do that if it helps the mission.” “I’m sure you can,” he said. “But I’m not going to push you until I’m sure I understand what you want. If you’re serious about this, show me that you mean it. That you’re not all talk.” “I will,” she said, not sure whether he meant about Lorenzo’s obvious innocence in the face of the evidence, or her enthusiasm for this playdate. And then she stood, knowing she couldn’t keep up with such an intense conversation much longer. “I’m going to file my report.” “Isadora.” She stopped in the doorway. “Think about it,” he said. “I’m not dismissing you out of hand. I just want to know that you’re coming to me with real thought, real conclusions, not an emotional outburst.” She went through to the nursery without answering. There was nothing to say to that. -
By astrodiaper · Posted
But that kind of gas causes internal damage to vital parts. 😁😜 $4.22 at the corner truck stop out by work. 85 octane. -
By astrodiaper · Posted
I think it will be kill the hall pizza morning. I did have this awesome idea of going to Subway and get two footlong subs to last a couple of days, I placed my order and when I got to the store, they had closed about 10 minutes before I placed my order, but no notice online. 🤬 -
By codsterc10@msn.com · Posted
Its a Roleplaying Ai app that you can create different stories with Ai.
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