Sissy Room

This morning is brought to you by the courtesy of a verrrry wet and messy Little Kings diaper. Soooo nice!!!!

Legendary moves from Northshore. Love when they started normalizing ABDL within the community, showing up the events and normalizing wearing diapers for any reason [from comfort to medical needs]. Also helps that Northshore make great products [Megamax] so of course they get the love. I am interested to see where they go next

"Squishy Saturday" morning sitting here in a wet and messy Little Kings Diaper. I realize that going poopie in a diaper is not embraced by every ABDL, but for me relaxing, and feeling the warm bulge expand in my diaper, settle in the bottom against my perineum, a feint tell-tale stinky as another reminder of what I have done, and finally sitting down enjoying the warm squish with a hot cup of coffee sends chills up my spine with a brief shiver of intense psychophysiological cathartic pleasure. Unlike Davoli, I usually don't have to push; I am so used to messing my morning diaper that all I need to do is relax to fill my diaper. To be honest, I don't mind changing and cleaning up after I go potty in my diapie, just a perfunctory responsibility that only takes me a few minutes, unless I have a diaper blow-out. This morning's mess is nicely ensconced in my diaper even as I sit here. I also have a satisfying bulge and expansion in the front of my diaper from a very wet diaper, and no leaks. A successful warm, wet, poopie morning...ahhhhh! 

113. Soft Intelligence Stella didn't know what time it was when she surfaced from sleep; only that the nursery light was still on, and something soft and heavy was pressing against her cheek. The laptop screen had gone dark in front of her, and stretching out one arm to wake it up sent a plush shark and a monkey tumbling onto the floor. She realised that she had fallen asleep in front of her work again, and she wasn’t quite awake enough to recall exactly how much progress she had made. Isadora sat up slowly, blinking. She carefully arranged the shark and a couple of other toys around her, thinking that they had made a surprisingly comfortable bed. Maybe they were more effective standing in as a mattress than they were as cushions to sit on while working, somehow. She guessed that as her energy levels had ebbed close to midnight, she must have drifted sideways into the pile of soft things she'd gathered to lean against. They had been scattered haphazardly when she awoke, but now it felt natural to set them up like a team waiting for the results of their hard work. She finished the distraction by setting a small bear and a round-bellied rabbit in her lap, and then reached for the computer. There was a game about penguins on the screen. Of course there was; secret projects wouldn’t stay around where any casual visitor might catch a glimpse of them. But she went through the sequence of keystrokes to unlock all her analysis software, and then there was a window showing a whole slew of text. The last thing, at the bottom, was a progress bar made out of dashes, with “100.4%” displayed. That must be some kind of mistake. But she wasn’t particularly concerned with her apparent inability to compare the number of images to analyse and the number done correctly. She was more concerned by the line immediately above the progress bar. ８３８８６０７　ｉｍａｇｅｓ　ｆｉｌｔｅｒｅｄ　／　４　ｍａｔｃｈｅｓ She stayed still for a moment longer than she needed to, not wanting to disrupt a moment of physical comfort while she stared at the screen. Maybe she would find out there was still something wrong with her results, but right now she could hope that one of those four images would be the one she needed. And while she was feeling so comfortable, she didn’t want to move away from the toys. They were different to a regular blanket, of course, but they were warm and soft enough to have let her sleep peacefully. And she found herself wondering whether she should try sleeping like this again; in a big pile of toys. About the only bad thing about that idea was that it would probably tell Brock she wasn’t entirely the professional operative she wanted to convey; or maybe that she’d understated how much the Pink Room had affected her. But really, she knew that these desires had always been there. And if she could complete his task, find the place where that ULF video had been shot, she would be able to prove she was capable. Then she was sure that she would have some respect regardless of how she chose to spend her leisure time. “I’m not losing control,” she whispered to herself, testing out the words to see if they felt real. “I’m taking it back. So I can do this when I want to, and I don’t need to be scared about what anybody else thinks.” She tried to imagine how it would feel; not having to perform so hard in the hope of being taken seriously. If Brock knew she was useful, he wouldn’t mind indulging her childish side. Like he had when they first tried living together. She looked at the pictures her script had given her. They all looked kind of similar. Then she compared them to the frames she had captured from the ULF video. One of them, she was sure, was a match. It was on the edge of Chinatown, a private room over a restaurant, decorated to look like some kind of courtyard. The space had giant windows that could let all the sunlight in. She imagined it would be perfect for filming. There were no pictures inside the premises. It was that kind of exclusive venue, not the kind of place where tourists took pictures. But there were pictures taken outside, or across the street, or from balconies overlooking the place. A dozen different images that captured that particular section of wall in the background, and by matching them all up beside each other, she could be as sure as she was going to get that this was the right place. The Universal Liberation Front were in Fairhaven. It was chilling to imagine terrorists setting up so close. But of course, Brock already knew that. This wouldn’t be news to him, but it would be proof that Isadora was a useful asset. She tucked the shark back against the wall with something that she refused to call fondness, and tried to decide what she needed to do next. Should she go to Fairhaven in person, and take her own pictures to double check? She considered it for a while. But a chime from her phone told her that she had other tasks. Lorenzo thought he had found someone who could teach her to shoot, as she had requested. And after she’d been so enthusiastic, she wouldn’t be able to decline without endangering her cover. She had about half an hour to get there. Well, maybe she could find Brock, then. Or perhaps she should leave him a message about her success. But that didn’t feel right; she wanted to tell him as soon as possible. She knew it wasn’t entirely a rational decision, but she needed to show her partner that she was useful to him as soon as possible. She checked the computer again, to see where Brock was. And that made everything easier, because he was already at the Yaxley Club. It looked like he was golfing, but he was also starting to drift away from the course. Isadora guessed that he was getting the lay of the land again, trying to improve his mental map of all the secret paths. And she realised that this would be perfect. If she decided to walk onto the club grounds, rather than driving up to the main parking area, she could see Brock on the way. She could give him the address, and maybe he wouldn’t even ask what else she was doing there. She knew she didn’t need to waste any more time. This wasn’t a perfect decision, but it was the closest she was ever likely to get to a real moment of triumph. She shut down the computer before she could change her mind, finished arranging her toys so they all looked comfortable, and went to get dressed for the day ahead. While she brushed and braided her hair, and for the whole walk over to the northern boundary of Evergreen Estates, she couldn’t stop smiling. Just knowing that she was doing the right thing for once. The path took her through a stretch of mixed woodland that formed a natural boundary between the estates and the club grounds proper. The trees were still bare enough that the light came through cleanly, and the ground underfoot was soft without being muddy. She found herself enjoying the walk more than she'd expected; the kind of slow, easy morning that Evergreen Estates was presumably designed to provide, and which she had rarely had time to appreciate. It felt kind of appropriate, as well, because the existence of these back paths had been about the only detail Brock had been willing to share with her so far. She could see Brock's position updating on her phone every minute or so. He had moved well away from the fairway now, which meant either that he had genuinely lost a ball or that he was still busy mapping out the woods. She angled towards him, following a deer track through the undergrowth, and eventually caught a glimpse of his jacket between the trees. “Brock!” She kept her voice low and even, covering the last few yards at a half-run. He turned, and for a moment he just looked at her. Something moved across his face that she didn't immediately know how to read. Frustration? She shouldn’t have expected him to be happy even before she had said anything, but it still felt disappointing to see her partner looking at her like that. Even for the shortest moment. “I got an address,” she said. “I knew it had to be Fairhaven. So now you can–” “Not now.” His voice was quiet, and very flat. “There’s a golf game going on, you know? You shouldn’t be at the club unless–” “I’ve got an appointment at the club,” she said. “I asked Lorenzo to set it up. And here is on the way to there. Just give me a minute, I found the…” “Estelle,” the name cut through her excitement with careful precision. She didn’t know what to say now; she was sure that he hadn’t called her that name for months now, and she’d almost forgotten that her legend even had a full name. Almost everyone had switched over to the friendlier ‘Stella’, and she couldn’t guess what Brock was trying to tell her by using the other name now. Was it a warning about the other ways he could address her? Words that would be guaranteed to leave her silent? She couldn’t believe that, not after all the effort he had made to repair the bridges between them after her imprisonment. But the confusion shocked her into silence while he carried on talking: “I’ve got a game with my friends, okay? I don’t want to neglect you, but I’m busy now. Why don’t you go to… whatever you’re doing in the clubhouse… and I’ll catch up with you later. Okay? Can you be good for me?” It wasn't quite what he had said, or even exactly how he said it, that made her go still. It was the dismissive way he talked down to her, like Bernard Klein might have done. Like he really didn’t want to engage with her right now. She didn’t understand. Was he being evasive because of possible surveillance? But that didn’t make sense. They were well off the golf course here, at least a hundred yards past the treeline. Rather than listening to what he was saying, any other players would be wondering how he could have gone so far in search of a lost ball or whatever excuse he’d used. But she didn’t want to say anything about it now. She didn’t look at him again, just nodded once and turned back the way she had come. Her jaw was tight, the proof of her competence still unspoken, as she stomped assertively towards the club. She joined one of the paths around the perimeter of the golf course, and followed the signs back towards the club. Nobody said a word to her until she reached the clubhouse, and she found the anger inside her chest starting to come to the boil again. Had she been wrong to trust Brock? Had it been naive to assume that he would treat her like a partner just because she could find one piece of information he already had? She was starting to feel gullible now, and to hate herself for making yet another rookie mistake. And maybe she would have turned right around and gone back to Tennyson Avenue, if she hadn’t been distracted by a softly-cleared throat somewhere close behind her. “Are you okay, Stella?” Lorenzo’s voice was soft and calm, and gave the impression that he was making a real effort to help her calm down. And seeing that smile, with a slight cheeky edge that she didn’t quite understand, somehow seemed to reframe everything completely. It didn’t matter if Brock was being mean to her, or Bernard. Because right here and right now she was cared for. “I’m sorry,” she said, shaking her head. “I just… I tried to say hello to Bernard and he was too busy to talk. I thought he’d be able to just say hello, but…” “Maybe I should talk to him at some point?” Lorenzo suggested. “Golf is an important part of a grown-up man’s life, but he should never neglect the one he loves. But for now… you wanted to learn a little, yes?” Isadora lowered her gaze to look past Lorenzo, and saw the butler standing patiently at his shoulder. Geoffrey Turner; a man who had been present almost every time they had visited the Arrencani house, whether for a Committee meeting or a social gathering, but who she still hadn’t found much reason to interact with. He was just a figure in the background, which was probably one sign of a very good butler. On the other side of Lorenzo was a man she wasn’t so familiar with, although she was sure she had seen his face before at least once, in weeks of reading files for all their neighbours. “I think you’ve met Geoffrey, haven’t you?” Lorenzo said. “I asked him to come along today, to bring a couple of rifles you can practice with. And this is Barry. He works for us sometimes in the garden, but he’s also an employee of the Yaxley Club. It’s not uncommon for people who work for local residents in another capacity to take up a position here, so that everyone can be familiar with the bartenders and so on.” “Of course,” Isadora answered with a nod. She tried to remember the man’s face; was he one of Tyrone’s coworkers? He could have been, but he wasn’t anyone whose profile she had paid particular attention to. But her mind was already racing, wondering why Lorenzo had brought a butler and a groundskeeper to see her; whether in her nervousness she had managed to make her request unclearly. But even while she thought, she knew she had to remain polite, so she offered a warm handshake to the two men and said: “Pleased to meet you.” “Barry represented his high school in a county skeet shooting contest, when he was younger,” Lorenzo explained. “He’s not actually a member of the club, but as one of the maintenance staff he has keys to all the facilities. I reasoned that if you’re looking to surprise your husband, it’s best to choose a mentor who isn’t a part of his regular social groups, so there’s less chance of the surprise getting spoiled. And if shooting at targets doesn’t press the right buttons for you, maybe I can offer a helpful alternative. I wouldn’t be surprised if Bernard might be just as impressed if you would offer to help him maintain his collection, which Geoffrey does for me. There’s a subtle art form in caring for older guns, which I understand can be a hobby in its own right, complementary to the actual shooting.” Isadora nodded. She had already heard about Geoffrey being responsible for looking after Lorenzo’s guns; which made perfect sense, given his military background. But it also caused a little tickle of worry at the back of her mind, because it seemed like Lorenzo was taking care not to mention that his butler had once been in the French Foreign Legion. That was as relevant a detail as Barry’s high-school shooting experience, and it would have made perfect sense to introduce it. So why hadn’t he? Did Lorenzo want to keep it secret that Geoffrey was a military man? Why would he? She found her mind drifting onto the way he had introduced Roman. She’d already known that two of the staff in the Arrencani house were veterans, but had Lorenzo actually mentioned either of them? Maybe he hadn’t… and that was worrying, because that would be the kind of clue Brock was looking for. She should be able to trust Lorenzo, not be second-guessing the things he did to help her. It was just one tiny thing that didn’t add up. And another thought process from the back of her mind was thinking that ingratiating herself with the staff, both at the club and in Lorenzo’s house, might make it easier for her to find something that was hidden. Barry’s keys could give her access to everyone’s used targets, if they were stored on the premises somewhere, and befriending Geoffrey would be a perfect way to get access to the Arrencani house if she wanted to look around without Lorenzo and his family knowing. But she was so disappointed in herself for even thinking those things. She knew that Lorenzo wasn’t the enemy, and she had no intention of snooping around there. It must have been the results of the hypnosis, she told herself. A little suggestion still hanging on in the back of her mind, encouraging her to give Brock what he wanted even if she was sure it wasn’t what he needed. Any time there was a conflict between trusting Lorenzo and satisfying Brock, the scales would be unnaturally tilted towards believing Daddy was right, and she knew that she needed to make more of an effort to overcome that, so that she could be the impartial agent she was supposed to be. “T… thank you,” she stammered, realising too late that she was drifting off into a world of her own. And she decided that the best thing to do, for now, was to focus on getting to know Barry. Finding targets was still her best shot at exonerating Lorenzo, and if Brock still wanted to investigate the Pink Room for some reason, this guy might be able to introduce her to one of the staff there in a social setting. “I think I should learn to shoot again. See if I still got it. I’m sure the other stuff would be a real help as well, but I kind of got myself all psyched up for shooting at targets today, so…” “I understand,” Lorenzo nodded. “Now, I need to talk to some of the gents about arranging a bridge tournament, so will you be okay if I leave you in Barry’s capable hands?” “Yes, thank you,” Isadora said with a nod. “And thank you for… you said I can use…” “The club has guns you can check out,” Lorenzo said. “But if you’d rather practice with the kind of expertly maintained pieces I’m sure your husband has in his collection, Geoffrey will be happy to bring some from our house. It’s the least I can do, to help prepare a nice surprise for my friend. And to see a charming smile from such a sweet young lady.” Isadora blushed a bit, but stammered her way through the rest of the discussion about what to do today. Barry came up with suggestions about what type of guns they could practise with today, and Geoffrey darted back to the Arrencani house to select something suitable. Isadora tried not to think about why Lorenzo would have a collection of all kinds of firearms if he wasn’t actually into shooting. She needed to show more faith in the people who had proved themselves worthy of it. It wasn’t long before Geoffrey returned with guns which seemed to fit perfectly into her hands. She injected a little uncertainty into her posture, and deliberately let herself focus on the wrong point as she lined up for the first target; she didn’t know how good her aim would actually be after several months without practice at the Agency’s range, and she didn’t want to seem too competent on her first lesson. But after Geoffrey had departed with a cheery “Adieu,” and she got into the swing of following Barry’s instructions while aiming just a little too high every time, she was sure that she was maintaining her cover. It was surprising how much fun she actually had at the club’s indoor range. It had been surprisingly quiet in there, while everyone else opted to practise outdoors and take advantage of what could have been the last warm, sunny day of the year. Barry was kind of sweet, the kind of guy who could drop jokes into conversation so subtle that it took a few seconds to even realise he’d said something funny. If she had met him at school or college, she could easily imagine them becoming a lot closer. The afternoon flew by, and she found that she was almost disappointed when it was time for her to be heading home. It was only during the walk back that her thoughts returned to all the details she hadn’t found an opportunity to investigate today. Or to why Brock had been so unwilling to listen to the things she had already discovered. But she reassured herself that she would tell him as soon as she got home; and then she would know whether her partner had ever intended to trust her.

I love the story....A Lot .