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Diaper References
Diaper/wetting references found in movies and on TV
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Posts
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By SparklyPrincess · Posted
I've been obsessed with big boobs for years and would love to either breastfeed or just lay my head in there and relax. -
By SparklyPrincess · Posted
Not more so than diapers but did I like to layer and the last one is a terry cotton square, plastic pants are the perfect icing on the cake. -
One of my last SDK's until the next order comes in. -
By Kitty Angel · Posted
I think it probably works better to start here. There's only a couple of side characters who carry over between the two; and this one probably flows better if you learn stuff when the narrator does. He's in the dark, so it might seem a little slow if you already know the things he's going to discover. The protagonist is a man; Cain Gordon. The intern refers to him as a guy, but maybe a single casual reference can be easy to miss. I didn't realise it wasn't clearer. 3. Commuter Trail I was woken by what could have been a Jack Sleight solo; although without the rhythm. For a second my imagination conjured up a rock concert around me, before my eyes opened and the frenetic drumming became the sound of hail on the roof above me. I grumbled and pulled my pillow over my ears, trying to get back to sleep. A second later, I realised that I had left the window open to let some cool air blow through in the height of summer; and my window didn’t have any demon doorman smart enough to discern what kind of weather it was admitting. I stood with a grumble, moved over to that side of the room, and quickly realised that I was right. The raindrops were slamming into the guttering below my window with enough force to bounce up again and slip under the pane to make a muddy patch on the carpet. A less focused guy would have discovered a puddle in the morning, right in front of the stairs. I closed the window, and placed a folded towel on the floor over the damp area. It would be dry by morning. I slunk back to bed, climbed under the covers, and then woke again drenched in sweat. It seemed that the rain outside wasn’t doing anything to lower the temperature, or the humidity. I swore under my breath this time. It felt like it had only been half an hour since the last time I’d woken; although without looking at the clock either time it was hard to be sure. I tried lying on top of the covers to sleep a little longer, but it was still uncomfortably warm. And when I went downstairs to see if there was a fan somewhere that I’d forgotten about, I quickly realised that I wasn’t that tired. So I shrugged off my pyjamas and threw them straight into the washing machine. I did everything that needed doing as well; that was just how my brain was wired. I dug out a bottle of carpet cleaning mousse, and sprayed it on the floor where the rain had carried specks of muck from the gutter. Then I put the towel in the wash as well; and my bedsheets. I checked all the other windows, and peered closely at the little spot in the corner of the kitchen where a damp patch had appeared during the intense rainstorms of the previous spring. It was dry now; so I hoped I wouldn’t have to call in a tradesman to deal with anything this time. By then I was fully awake, but it was still dark outside. Although when I thought about it a bit more, I realised that the thick, roiling black clouds overhead could easily be concealing sunrise colours on the horizon. I looked at the stove and wondered if it was worth making bacon and eggs for breakfast. In this heat, certainly not. Cereal? I didn’t know if I could sit down for long enough to eat it without making a sweaty puddle on the chair. An alternative plan arrived fully-formed in my brain; the kind of thing that I knew was crazy. But in the absence of any sensible plans to deal with the contradictory climate, I decided that a change might be just what I needed. Doing something that seemed crazy had worked out well yesterday, after all. I threw myself into the shower, and turned the temperature up until my skin was red. I could only stand it for two minutes, but I was sure that was long enough to scour away all the sweat from the night. Some people might have taken a cold shower; but I was sure I remembered reading that a hot shower was actually better for cooling you down in hot weather; opening up pores and capillaries so that your body was more able to dispose of heat from the core. It woke me up, in any case, and then I could get dressed for the office. Some of my coworkers dressed smartly. Some even wore suits. But there was no obligation at SYL; office managers could make their own rules. Most of my coworkers adopted a smart-casual dress code, while I tended to lean a little more to the casual side. I guess that was something else I had in common with the intern; she dressed like she was still a high school graduate on an extended summer break, and my concession to business was choosing a hoodie without any particularly disturbing imagery. But today, I thought I might be a little less formal. My usual tee, black jeans, and hoodie went into my laptop bag, where I was surprised to find they fitted easily. I shoved a can of Berthoud Red deodorant down the side as well, happy to find that it fitted in the pocked designed for chargers. Then I pulled on shorts and a thin top; workout clothes. One of the benefits of this job was that SYL had taken over the whole village. Employee apartments, offices, and all kinds of cafés that served as our canteen were scattered all across the village, so nobody needed to drive to work. But sometimes the short walk wasn’t what I wanted, and the comp[any had us covered there as well. Where most villages would have a network of roads centred around a shopping street, Upper Ashfields had a ring-road instead, with a couple of spurs leading in towards visitor and resident parking areas. That meant that where the old village streets had been was all pedestrian areas, and there was a lot of space for parks stretching around at least one side of every office area. I started my day by jogging away from the office, taking the underpass under the ring road, until I found the cycleway that looped around a little farther out. Then I could circle round the outside of the campus, getting faster and faster as the exercise started to build up my adrenaline. Sure, it was raining to start with. But if I was going jogging like this my clothes would have been dripping by the time I reached the Fitzgerald Building in any case. The air was too warm for comfort, but the rain was cold. And it wasn’t long before the rain stopped, leaving the slight breeze to dry me off. I had intended to run a loop of the campus and then stop somewhere for breakfast; but once my blood was pumping it only seemed natural to keep running. I did three loops, faster and faster, before my legs started to tire and I found myself on the track back to Fitzgerald. There were showers there; only natural when there was a basketball court at the back of the building, and some of my colleagues might have been inclined to play a little on their lunch breaks. So I let the hot water wash away my sweat again, changed into my normal office attire – a Franklin’s Muse tee today – and then wandered around to the little tearoom that abutted our building. I was awake, feeling refreshed, and sure that I would have a great day. It wasn’t even eight yet, but my day had already started. With a smoked salmon bagel in front of me, I could check emails on my phone and see if anyone had started working yet. The first message I had was from Tom Gently, but today he couldn’t kill my mood. I quickly looked over the message; he wanted me to compose a list of the times each employee signed in and out of the building, so that we could show the execs who was most dedicated. I was sure he just wanted me to do the legwork so he could take the credit; but I didn’t object to that at all. Because in this particular case, I was sure that the execs wouldn’t be impressed. The whole point of the Upper Ashfields project was to test the effectiveness of breaking down conventional business paradigms; we were supposed to work flexibly, and to make work a part of our lives rather than a chore. We could make calls from the car, and brainstorm over pizza at Dominic’s; so ranking team members by bum-on-seat time seemed pretty counterproductive to me. “Sure thing, boss,” I tapped out a reply. “I’ll get right on it.” Gently wasn’t my boss; we were both Team Directors, and almost everybody on the third floor of Fitzgerald reported to one of us. We shouldn’t have acted like rivals really, but it was hard not to when he seemed to spend about half of his work day trying to prove that he was better than me in the hope of snagging some promotion that he imagined was always on the horizon. Somewhere in the back of my mind I knew that my jabs at him were no more mature; but somehow that rivalry had kept me almost sane for quite a number of months in the absence of any real friends. I didn’t trust myself to analyse it more than that. There were a few more emails. Early risers, or a couple of people on my team who would quickly respond to messages before setting off in the morning, to increase the odds of them knowing whatever it was they needed to know when they actually got to the office. I replied to those, and then I was heading to the office. The morning was boring. Running in had left me feeling full of energy, but once I focused on the job I felt as if I was fighting against everyone’s urge to follow a traditional business environment; talking about rules, and timekeeping, and what tasks people were assigned to. We were supposed to be better than that, and a lot of the staff around here were realising that, but there were still way too many speed bumps on the road to progress; and I was the one who had to deal with them all. I signed in to the building’s computer systems, as well. I could see when each member of my team had used their keycard to sign in, and all the doors they had opened with it during the day. It took me about an hour and a half to write a macro that would collect that information and turn it into a spreadsheet of how much time each person spent in the office. Useless information, but I had the email from Gently saying that he needed it. When he showed it to his superiors, maybe they would remind me that he shouldn’t be wasting my time. And I couldn’t deny that working out how to collate all the data in the right way was quite an interesting problem. I could relax a little at lunch, hoping that the afternoon would include more actual work. I wasn’t sure what kind of work that would actually be; there were so many clients and so many projects to assign to my team, and I had to make sure that none of them ever felt neglected. But there wasn’t much I could think about over lunch, without all the projects in front of me. “Dining alone?” I glanced up and saw the intern, Carter, standing there. She had what looked like a kids meal, the ones with the push-put cardboard dinosaur figures on the sides of the bucket, and for a moment I wondered whether it could be healthy to follow that kind of diet. It was the kind of thing I’d heard about models doing, eating extra small portions, but I couldn’t imagine her being that careless with her health. Sure, she was slim, but I’d always assumed that was athleticism rather than vanity. Maybe I’d misjudged her. “Where’s the kid?” I asked, and when she looked surprised I pointed at her meal. And then she had that whole deer-in-the-headlights look, and I knew that I should have tried harder to be friendly. If I was going to have anyone to talk to at all, I needed to think before opening my mouth. I really didn’t know what she might have gone through to lead to dumb choices. “I’m the kid,” she said with a shrug, and I couldn’t do anything but stare. She was young, sure, but only compared to the rest of the professionals in the department. Maybe she was just making a joke because she was embarrassed to admit that she wasn’t eating enough; but a part of me knew there had to be more to it. What it was, though, I had no guesses. -
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