Sissy Room

114. Bad Faith Isadora knew that she needed some time to think. Maybe she should have been thinking while she was going through a shooting lesson with Barry; putting holes in targets and trying to pretend that her only past experience had been from her husband wanting her to learn. But she’d been having too much fun then. She could have thought on the way home, but almost as soon as the lesson had ended, her anger had come flooding back. How could Brock talk down to her like that? He’d seemed almost frustrated, like he was talking down to a child who didn’t understand everything. But he’d been so dismissive of her moment of triumph, and she couldn’t accept that. She had the one thing that he’d said would prove she was a worthy partner, and he wouldn’t even let her tell him. Now, lying back on her bed, she stared at the ceiling and tried to make herself think about it. She could remember so many times in the investigation when she’d been angry with Brock’s treatment of her, only to discover later that he had a perfectly rational reason for it. That he’d been playing a role for the sake of eavesdroppers, or that she’d made some mistake without even realising. He genuinely seemed to be quite competent, and he was such a good actor that she knew it was impossible to judge whether he was genuinely angry. But she told herself that, more and more, he’d been pushing her to one side. Now he wouldn’t even listen, and there was no reason for that. Was there? It couldn’t have been the chance that the people he was golfing with might have overheard, because they were so far off the course there would obviously be nobody in earshot. He was just putting her down for his own amusement now; or perhaps her refusal to accept his reflexive attribution of blame to Lorenzo for everything that happened in this town had further eroded his trust in her. But she forced herself to think. If she reacted emotionally, she knew she was just going to embarrass herself again. Before she yelled at Brock again, she needed to think carefully and rationally over how he had behaved, and try to understand what was going on in his head. She took a couple of deep breaths, focusing on the patterns in the ceiling, and then tried to put it together. All the feelings she had been suppressing came flooding back in, but this time she was ready for them, and determined to address the points one by one in the hope of finding something rational that she could actually use to build a calm, logical reaction. Brock didn’t trust Lorenzo. That was the big deal. The local police blamed the mythical Arrencani Crime Family for just about every crime in this town, like some kind of bogeyman. Isadora knew that Lorenzo was the most honest man they knew, and so none of that could be true. But Brock was more predisposed to trust police reports than hunches, so she couldn’t see the truth that was right in front of him. Isadora briefly remembered her doubts earlier in the day, and the suspicion that Lorenzo had been hiding something from her. But she pushed those thoughts down, reminding herself that they were neither trustworthy nor relevant to this line of deduction. What mattered was that Brock didn’t trust Lorenzo, and that once he had accepted the existence of the supposed crime family as gospel, he would be less likely to respect anything his partner said to the contrary. She took a deep breath. There was nothing she could do about that until she had proof, so she let her analysis of the day’s events move on to the next point. She was playing the role of Stella Klein. That could be an issue, possibly. Except that they’d been so far from the golf course, there was no way that any of Brock’s opponents could have overheard them. The middle of the woods, the middle of nowhere, would surely be as secure as their own surveillance-screened nursery. There was no way anyone would have been close enough to hear. And the only other explanation she could think of for his attitude was that he really didn’t want to hear what she had to say. He’d pretty much told her that he would accept her as a partner if she could find it; but had that just been an excuse to keep her out of the way? Had she been wasting all this time? She found it hard to believe that he could seem so warm while hiding so much contempt for her abilities; but she had to admit that Brock was a good enough actor to portray whatever image he wanted. She immediately started worrying about what she could do to impress him again. She needed to be useful. She didn’t know how much of that was fear of failure, and how much was the desire to please Daddy that the hypnosis had left her with, but she knew she needed to do better. But what could she do? She felt the anger creeping up on her again, as well as a little frustration. And maybe, if she really committed to self-analysis, she would sense panic starting to rise. She couldn’t bear to think she wasn’t good enough for him. But then, what other options were there? Could he have been reacting unfairly? She wanted to believe it, because it was the only option that didn’t make all these feelings her own fault. But Brock wasn’t one who jumped to anger easily, so far as she had seen. There would have to be something behind it, some other frustration for him to take out on her. And she latched on to that thought like a life belt. If Brock had just heard that something was wrong, or something else had annoyed him, maybe he had snapped on instinct; and she hadn’t stayed around long enough for him to have second thoughts. It was just about believable. But what could have annoyed him so much? Someone cheating at golf, when his urge to show up the cheat conflicted with the need to maintain whatever handicap he had previously decided on for Bernard Klein? She could imagine that must be really rage-inducing. Or was it some investigative thread that had drawn a blank, and he blamed the partner who was still trailing behind him? She had to hope that one or the other was true. That his anger hadn’t really been directed at her. Maybe he’d gone searching for a lost ball and decided to walk in the woods for a minute or two to clear his head; in which case her showing up to dump more deductions on him would have seemed a lot less positive. And she realised that she needed to know. Even if she couldn’t do anything about it, she needed to know where his head had been that morning. So she forced herself to stand, and after getting a drink headed back down to the nursery. She tapped her fingers impatiently as the laptop switched out of its undercover childish mode, and than called up the records from Brock’s GPS and buttoncam. The record was full of holes, of course. He still kept turning it off, no matter how much Isadora wished he wouldn’t. But there were some recordings from that morning, and she only hoped that one of them would reveal the real cause of his frustration. She chose one a little over ten minutes before she had run into him, before he had walked away from his golfing partners. The video dropped her straight into the middle of what looked like a jovial foursome playing golf without any real competitiveness. She could make out Victor Solomon and Oscar Boldfellow, while the third member was out of shot right now. Desperate to know the truth, Isadora settled back to watch. “I should introduce you,” Victor was saying. “He’s a decent chap. Did our lawns long before he started at the Club, and of course I was happy to ask about his family. Let me tell you, it was a surprise when my baby told me he was… you know…” “Yeah,” Brock’s voice echoed slightly, picked up by a tiny microphone on his own shirt. “It would be good though, maybe we can–” “Bernard?” a third voice interrupted, and Brock turned to see Oscar gesturing in his direction with a golf club. “You’re up.” “Thanks,” Brock said jovially, and took a few steps back to the tee. Isadora could see the field of vision moving back and forth, steadying with the distant hole in the centre as Brock lined up his shot. “Get ready to applaud, gents, I feel a hole in one coming on.” There was a little laughter in the background, but then there was silence. For all their joking around, these men respected the game enough that distracting someone during his shot was unthinkable. Watching the laptop on her knees, Isadora found herself glued to the screen, fingers instinctively crossed as she wished Brock the best of luck with this shot. She shouldn’t have been surprised when it sailed up into the air, seemed to hang there for a moment at the apex of its arc, and then seemed to curve to the left, coming down well behind the treeline on the far side of the nearest water hazard. She should have known that she’d started playback right before he left the course, but the moment had seemed so tense that it slipped her mind for a moment. “Amazing, old chap,” Victor broke the silence with a laugh. “I didn’t realise the hole was that far outside the course.” Then there was a faint sound that could have been Brock cursing under his breath, and some good-natured laughter from the others. “Might take me a while to find,” Brock mumbled. “Think there’s a blackberry patch under the trees around there somewhere. You guys play on, I’ll catch up when I find it.” And then the laughter and jokes slowly faded away behind him as he headed into the woods. He moved quickly, confidently, even after the recording picked up the scratches of the undergrowth snatching at his trousers. The tangled, thorned stems of blackberries weren’t in evidence, but it was entirely possible that he had memorised the layout of the woods well enough to walk around them. He paused after a few seconds, and then stooped to pick up his ball from the ground. He didn’t even need to look around; some subtle sign of damaged foliage must have told him exactly which leaves would reveal a ball when pushed aside. There was a stark contrast between his confidence about taking the shot, and his pessimism when it came to the post-mistake ball hunt. Isadora was sure it must mean something, but she wasn’t sure what conclusion she could draw. Brock straightened up, and kept on walking deeper into the woods. He seemed calm and confident, as if he knew exactly where he needed to go, even after the errant ball was found. A lurch from the camera suggested that he had dropped to his knees a few seconds later, and now the blackberries were in sight. There was a click, and another sound of movement. Something being plugged in. And then the view switched abruptly, as the feed from the buttoncam switched to an external camera. Brock had connected up some other piece of technology from his basic field kit, although the reason wasn’t entirely clear. Isadora found herself pinned to the screen again, mind drawing a blank with every conclusion she tried to draw. And then the video zoomed in, and the changing quality of the audio together with a targeting crosshair told her that her partner had connected a laser microphone, to better pick up a distant conversation over the background noise of a million woodland animals going about their business. She couldn’t see anything but a couple of vague silhouettes almost completely hidden by out-of-focus foliage, but the microphone’s crosshair was carefully positioned on a tree close to the mysterious figures. “Lorenzo doesn’t want to take the shot,” a voice grumbled, the frustrated tone adding on a little venom that was hard to ignore. It didn’t take long to recognise the bitter animosity that was so characteristic of Roman Bercher. “That’s not a good look. Makes it seem like the boss is scared to get his hands dirty. How do we deal with that?” “Boss does what boss does,” another voice answered, this one sounding more weary than angry. It took a few long seconds for Isadora to recognise the clipped accent of Enzo Arrencani; Lorenzo’s veteran brother who rarely associated with anyone outside the house. “Or, like, maybe it’s like the boss who doesn’t dip into his own supply. There’s plenty of ways you could spin it.” “Or how about,” Roman barked, “you get your brother to stop playing silly games. This is the biggest deal we’ve ever had, and sudden;y he’s more concerned with whatever nonsense those nurses planted in his head. I swear, having him take guidance from his housekeepers is going to destroy his credibility if anybody finds out.” “He’s not going to listen,” Enzo said. “Claudine heard Strong’s last words, you know? That almost makes her a kind of successor, her word is law on some things.” “Right. But we need to persuade him, or the family loses face. I’m not handling this Lasserville negotiation just to have the whole family fall apart over the boss’s ego.” “I’ll talk to him, but what can I say?” “Mention Marco.” “You’re not going to give it to–” “Hell no!” it sounded like Roman needed a real effort of will to keep from swearing there. “I mean, I might offer him the shot to feed his ego, but only with blanks. Better still if we can keep him out of this entirely.” “Right?” “God knows I don’t want the brat taking over. I should never have let word get out about him being the family’s heir. But if Lorenzo hears that Marco might put himself at risk…” “He might reconsider doing it himself,” Enzo sounded almost smug then. “It’s a tall story to sell the old man, but I guess I got to do it. He wouldn’t want to hear that from you.” “I just wish we could–” The camera lurched to one side, and as soon as the laser wasn’t pointing at that tree, the audio descended into a carillion of woodland sounds. Then there was another click, and a moment of distortion. The field of vision suddenly changed, and there was a rustling as Brock hurriedly packed away the microphone and zoom lens. “Brock?” a female voice called out between the trees, not hushed like Roman’s and Enzo’s. “I got an–” Isadora’s fingers stabbed at the F7 key, stopping the video and dismissing that video instantly when she recognised herself walking obliviously between the trees, and then was able to identify her own voice. She knew in an instant that he’d been far from the other golfers because he wanted to be, and that she had unknowingly interrupted his surveillance of a conversation she couldn’t even start to decipher. There was no question now about why Brock had been so angry. And there was no doubt that it was really her fault. Was she as incompetent as he seemed to think she was? She couldn’t believe she had been so careless. The only thing she had left to debate was how she could possibly apologise enough, or whether there was a way to make it up to him.     Could really use some feedback here. I've got 5 possible interpretations of that conversation in mind; all of which have been hinted at or foreshadowed previously. And I'd really like to know which one immediately jumps to a reader's mind, or which seems most believable at this point. What do you think?

Sandwich 

Oh my, thats so nice. I am loving Luci's slow descent, the pacing of this is terrific. Everything is happening in a meaningful way, there are reasons and logic behind it.  Very much loking forward to whatever you have planned, hope the life stuff works out ok.  

I too am with you guys.  Been almost 20 years now.  At this point I wear a very capable diaper like rearz, Northshore or Tykables.  I find with a booster I can get 5-6 hours if I am drinking as I go, or longer if on a flight and dehydrated.  I no longer worry about it and just live life.  I have had massages, been to surgery, doctors and the gym with diapers on without much said.  I did have a nurse make a comment about how cute my diaper was a few weeks ago when I got an unexpected EKG and had a Tykable on.  People really are self absorbed and not looking for crotches that scream diaper wearer.  I did make the decision to invest in permanent hair removal and could not be happier.  The smell is way less and clean up much easier.   Diapers are my underwear and always will be now.  I enjoy them at this point for making my life less stressful looking for a restroom and the designs are just fun and amazing these days.

PART 2    "WAAAAAGGHHHHHH!!!" Vellna, Ruppert, and Agnis all turned at once to the source of the sound that now filled the chamber. A goblin had happened upon the treasure room the two adventurers had snuck into, and had surely now alerted the entire warband to the presence of the intruders.    "Shit!" Vellna cursed.    "Ah ah ah! Language!" Agnis scolded.    "Apparently she grasps our language enough to identify swearing when she hears it." Ruppert surmised.    "I don't care! We're both about to die!" Vellna shrieked.    Rather than panicking like his companion, Ruppert calmly turned to Agnis and gestured towards the mouth of the cave, "I'm assuming you can handle this for us, yes... M-Mommy?" he added the last part through gritted teeth.    "Nonsense!" Agnis said jovially, stepping over to a nearby bounded and taking a seat upon it. "Go play with the goblins, babies. It is good exercise!"    Ruppert gulped, turning towards the mouth of the cave once again. "We're both going to die."    "WAAAAAAAAAGGHHHHHHHHH!!!" The goblin let out another war cry as it and several of its brethren charged at the duo.    Vellna readied her battle axe, "Well if I'm gonna die, I'm gonna go down swinging!" she said, charging towards the oncoming goblins as ferociously as her diaper-waddle would let her.    "I'll, uhhh, help from back here." Ruppert said, readying his wand. He'd used most of his mana getting them here, but he still had enough for a few good magic missiles.     Vellna crashed into the front line, disarming the first goblin--literally--before separating its ugly head from its torso. Unfortunately, the maneuver left her wide open and a second goblin smacked her upside the head with its crude wooden club, knocking her to the ground and making her see stars. Fortunately, before the goblin could press its advantage, a bolt of blue light struck it square in the temple, knocking the monster out cold.    "Yes!" Ruppert cheered at his successful hit.    Vellna righted herself back on her feet and shook the stars from her vision. Two more goblins were bearing down on her now. She swung her axe wildly to keep them at bay, and just as another one of Ruppert's magic bolts struck one of them she leapt towards the other and buried her axe in its skull.    "Good teamwork, babies! You are doing great!" Agnis called out from her rock, pulling some sort of tome out of her bag and beginning to read it, seemingly disinterested in the fight happening around her.    "We'd be doing a lot better if you'd help!" Vellna shouted over the din of combat, barely managing to deflect a goblin's club. Agnis either didn't hear her, or didn't feel the need to respond.    Ruppert began drawing a sigil in the air with his wand, "Get ready to duck!"    "Got it!" Vellna said, kicking on goblin in the nuts before turning to block the blow of another.    "Now!" Ruppert called out before releasing a wave of arcane energy straight at Vellna. The wave traveled about three feet about the ground, so all Vellna had to do was dive under the oncoming spell, allowing it to travel over her and hit the group of goblins that had surrounded her.    The tactic worked like a charm and the blast knocked four goblins off their feet at once.    "Ha! Take that, you fiends!" Ruppert gloated from the back lines.    Unfortunately the arcane wave didn't have enough power to kill any other them outright, so all four of them scrambled to their feet even angrier than before.    "You idiot! You didn't charge it up enough!" Vellna shouted back at Ruppert.    "It's not my fault! I'm out of mana!" the mage replied.    "Great... Guess I'm on my own then." Vellna said, hefting her axe in a defensive stance.     But just as the quartet of goblins closed in on her, another battle cry reverberated throughout the cave--this one deeper and more-monstrous than the previous. Everyone turned to the mouth of the cave to see a new figure standing there. A goblin, yes, but this one was clad in black armor and wielding a jagged sword and a wicked-looking shield.    The goblin Warchief had arrived, and both of the young adventurers' diapers grew slightly warmer at the sight of him.    "Agnis! We could really use your help now please!" Vellna cried out desperately.    The woman in red looked up from her book, "Ooooo a new friend to play with! Go get him, sweetie! I believe in you!" She said before turning back to her tome.    "You shouldn't believe in me! I'm gonna die-AHHHH!" Vellna barely had time to raise her axe to deflect the Warchief's sword bearing down on her. Even if she'd had her armor, it was very likely that blade could have killed her in a single blow. Now? She was certain a single strike would end her.    Ruppert, having exhausted the last of his magical energy on the Arcane Wave spell, was completely powerless to help his companion. "Can't you give us any help at all?" he pleaded with Agnis, "A buffing spell? Or maybe a mana potion you could give me so that I can help Vellna even a little bit?"    Agnis looked up at the fight for only a moment, before turning back towards the mage, "It is okay to let your sister have the glory once in a while, child. Let her fight this battle on her own. You will get your chance, I promise."    "Sister? She's not my... Ugghhh!" Ruppert turned away from the woman in frustration.    Vellna meanwhile, was struggling to just barely stay alive. All of her focus was devoted to dodging the Warchief's attacks, so much so that she didn't have time to even *try* to land a hit of her own.    The young girl was breathing hard now, her stamina approaching its limit. Whereas the Warchief was only just getting started. If Vellna didn't do something--and fast--she was surely going to end up in a goblin stew before the night was over.    She spied one of the fallen goblin's clubs on the ground and it gave her an idea--a crazy, borderline-suicidal idea. She dodged and rolled to the right, scooping the crude club up as she came to a stand. Now wielding a weapon in each hand, she planted her feet and tried her best to look menacing. "Alright you big, ugly, hideous, smelly monster! Come get some!" she taunted.    The creature needed no further incentive. It let out a cry of rage and charged at Vellna like a bull. The young adventurer, terrified as she was, stood her ground. Then at the last possible second, with a flick of her wrist she flung the club directly at the Warchief's head! It bounced off of his ugly face with a dull *thud*, causing no real damage, but the sudden impact was enough of a distraction to open the hideous monster up for a follow-up attack with Vellna's axe. It would be a wild swing--she didn't have time to two-hand the axe again, but this was her only shot. Gripping the battle-axe at the very end of the hilt, she twisted her body to put as much power behind her swing as she could muster.    It was do or die!    *KKRRSSHHHTTT!!!*    Shards of metal went flying off in every direction as the axe shattered upon impact with the goblin Warchief's armor.    Vellna was too stunned from the shock of vibrations the axe handle sent up her arm to realize what had actually happened. She landed the hit, didn't she? Did she cleave through the Warchief's armor? Surely that was the impact she felt, right?    Before she could come to her senses, Vellna felt a different sensation: The Warchief's sword piercing her body, skewering her right through.    All of the breath in her body was violently forced out. Heat and pain radiated out from the gaping wound in her mid-section. She couldn't think, she could barely feel, all she wanted to do was take a breath and refill her lungs.     But she couldn't.     The goblin Warchief sneered an evil grin, locking hateful yellow eyes with her, before viciously ripping his sword out of her guts.    The adventurer's body crumpled to the dirt beneath her feet, all strength having left her. Somewhere, deep in the recesses of her dying mind, something screamed for her to get up! Keep fighting! You can't die like this!    But she was beyond fighting now. The heat radiating from the hole in her chest was replaced by a creeping cold--a numbness so complete, it erased all memory of feeling.    "By the seven secret fires... No!" Ruppert muttered, still in shock that his traveling companion was truly... Gone...    The air shifted all around them. The torches ensconced in the cave walls dimmed to mere embers as all the light... No, all the *shadows*... Raced towards the center of the room.    Towards Agnis.    "YOU HAVE HURT MY CHILD!" Her voice boomed, otherworldly and terrible, as darkness intermingled with flame swirled around her. Ruppert scrambled to back away as the fiery tempest engulfed the woman in red, before growing and forming into a larger, most-terrify shape:    A dragon.    The goblins all screamed in terror and ran for the mouth of the cave, but unfortunately for them, Agnis the Dragon would allow no such escape. She opened her vicious maw, and from the depths of her draconic rage she unleashed an inferno upon the lowly creatures, incinerating them to ash almost instantly. Even the Warchief's black armor didn't stand a chance against dragon fire.    The cave fell silent. The dragon Agnis scanned over the charred bodies of the goblins, ensuring none had survived, before the black and red flame once again engulfed her, this time shrinking down until she was in her woman-form again.    Ruppert, who up until this point had been too terrified to speak, suddenly found his voice again, pointing a shaky finger at Agnis. "Y-you're a d-d-dragon!?!? I thought there were no dragons left in this world!?"    The woman simply smiled down at the young mage, "Correct. There *were* no dragons, as my kind fled this world millennia ago. That is, until your genie friend called *me* back here."    Ruppert, overcome with fear, fell to his hands and knees, bowing his head low until it was nearly touching the cave floor. "I swear, we did not intend to summon you here, oh most fiery and powerful of beings! We would nev-AAAHHHH!" he shrieked as Agnis suddenly lifted him up off the ground, only to place him back on his feet.    "Careful, sweetie, we do not want your robes to get all dirty, now do we?" Agnis said, gently patting his head.    "I uhhh... Umm..." Ruppert was still far too stunned to give an intelligible response.     "Now then, let us tend to your sister." Agnis said, striding over to Vellna's corpse.    Ruppert blinked several times, trying to come to his senses and process what the dragon-woman had just said. "Tend to... You mean like... Bury her or-… Wait what are you doing!?"    Agnis pulled one shoulder of her dress down, allowing for her left breast to come free. Ruppert tried to look away at first, but found he could not tear his attention away from her plump, beautiful breast...    She leaned over Vellna's body and a single, golden drop of liquid squeezed itself from her tit, landing on the girl's bloody wound.    In an instant, Vellna's body was suffused with golden light. Ruppert's jaw practically hit the cave floor as he watched the dragon's magic repair his friend's body in mere seconds. But to what end? Surely even someone as mighty as a dragon cannot raise the dead back to life... Can they?    As if in answer, Vellna suddenly jerked upright, gasping and coughing, before feeling the spot on her stomach where the wound had been. "I… Wha… Wha happen'd?" she slurred, still not fully in control of her faculties.    "You DIED, that's what happened!" Ruppert exclaimed.    "But that is okay, baby, Mommy fixed you up." Agnis said, smiling down at the girl.    Vellna blinked several times, still trying to come to grips with her reality. "I… Died?" she asked slowly.    "Yes you did. But then *Mommy* here--" He said with a cringe, "--Who is a DRAGON by the way--brought you back to life by… umm, she… she sort of…" He made a few odd gestures towards his chest, before waving it off dismissively, "It doesn't matter. The point is, you're back, and it turns out our new companion is FAR more-powerful than I think either of us bargained for!"    Agnis kneeled down, putting a hand on each of the young adventurers' shoulders, "And so long as I am around, nothing and nobody will ever bring you harm!" she said cheerily.    Vellna and Ruppert locked eyes, realization slowly dawning on them; They now traveled with perhaps the most-powerful being currently alive, and that being was going to take good care of them… Whether they wanted her to or not.    Vellna gulped, "I uhhh… Think I'm gonna need a new diaper…"