Trading Post

hmmm... it's been a long time (15+ years) since I've tried Tranquility, but my recollection from then was the plastic was rather stiff.   Now, focusing on how it feels inside, newer products like the Potty Training Dropouts, LNGU, and Little Troubles all have really super soft inner linings.  Though that's quite subjective since I do not know how we could easily quantify it.  

Thanks for the encouragement, and for reading my story! Here's the next chapter for your enjoyment! Chapter 5: Quality Control "Let's check in on Ollie and Klaus," said Mr. Waddler, leading the group further into the diaper testing area. They soon found the professional pisser chugging water and filling Klaus to gigantic proportions under the watchful eye of Dr. Dinkle. Both diaper and diapee seemed to be in a blissful daze, deaf to the urgently beeping monitoring machine wired to sensor pads all over Klaus's sturdy backing. Klaus's father hovered around them, wringing his hands in alarm. "Slow down, man! He's bound to burst!" "Don't worry, Mr. Krinkler," said Mr. Waddler, waddling up to the wealthy worrywart. "Klaus should get full enough to change back any moment now. This is all perfectly normal. Excuse me for just a moment." Charlie listened in as Mr. Waddler pulled Dr. Dinkle aside. "This is not normal, Dr. Dinkle! What the hell is going on? Why isn't he changing back yet?" Dr. Dinkle adjusted his glasses and leafed through his notes. "It’s inexplicable, Mr. Waddler. No matter what Ollie throws at him, Klaus just doesn’t seem to be reaching his limit." "Exactly how full is he right now?" asked Mr. Waddler. Dr. Dinkle paused and pulled out a strange pair of glasses with a heads up display. He tapped it a few times, started to speak, paused, and spoke again. "According to my readings... no, this can't be right... this thing must be broken... it says... his milliliter level is over nine thousand!" "Over nine thousand?! That's not possible!" said Mr. Waddler, the shock evident in his expression. The doctor set his jaw. "And yet here we are. I'm afraid we simply never counted on Klaus being such a good diaper." "I can't believe I'm saying this, but Ollie's output might not be enough. Have you tried getting other people to pee in Klaus at the same time?" "Well, we could certainly try it," said the doctor, giving the pair a doubtful glance, "but they seem somewhat... attached to each other. I don't know if Klaus will go for it." Mr. Waddler rubbed his chin. "Hmm... let me talk to them." "What's going to happen, Grandpa?" Charlie whispered to Grandpa Joe. The old man brought a finger to his lips. "Shh! Just watch the show - and let me know if you see any popcorn!" Unlike everyone around them, Klaus and Ollie seemed perfectly calm, so calm, in fact, that it took several attempts for Mr. Waddler to get their attention. "Ah, Ollie? Klaus? Excuse me? Ahem. BOYS!" Ollie stopped chugging and the two of them looked Mr. Waddler's way. Mr. Waddler clasped his hands and tilted his head. "So, Klaus... I have some news..." "What is it now?" sighed Klaus. "Can't you see I'm busy soaking?" Mr. Waddler clicked his tongue. "So, it turns out that you're a little bit more absorbent than we expected, so we're going to have to figure out a way to fill you up faster to turn you back... We thought that maybe if we got some more testers to help out..." "NO!" Ollie let out a cry of dismay that made everyone jump. "What's wrong, dearest Ollie?" asked Klaus, immediately on high alert. "I can sense sadness in your pee." "I don't wanna!" whined Ollie. "Don't want to what, dear Ollie?" "I don't want you to turn back! You're the bestest diaper ever!" The pain in Ollie's voice was heart-wrenching. Klaus remained silent for several seconds. "Now, Ollie,” said Mr. Waddler, “be reasonable. You know that Klaus can't just stay a diaper forever." "Why not?" asked Klaus, taking on a look of determination. "W-wha?" sniffled Ollie. "What are you saying?" asked Mr. Waddler. "Maybe... maybe I'm saying I don't want to turn back. Maybe I want to be Ollie's diaper forever." Everyone in the room gasped. "Duh... Duh... Do you really mean it?" asked Ollie. "I do," said Klaus, gently, yet with complete certainty, his cheeks taking a slightly pink tinge. There was a loud thud on the floor nearby. "Code nine!" called Dr. Dinkle into his handheld radio. "Mr. Krinkler has fainted from the shock of witnessing an oversaturated diaper expressing unexpected emotions!" Several Crinkle Winkles dragged the dazed dad to the nearby fainting couch and set about trying to revive him. "They have a code for that?" asked Grandpa Joe. "How often does this happen here?" "Klaus, how are you feeling?" asked Mr. Waddler, crouching down so he was eye level with Ollie’s crotch. "I feel a bit funny... but very good. Nice and full...” “And do you enjoy being a diaper?” “It... it’s nice being Ollie’s diaper... I can feel him inside me and... erm... it feels nice to protect him and soak up all his pee pee..." A look of pleasure and embarrassment crossed Klaus's flat face as he shared his feelings. "I see..." said Mr. Waddler, straightening up. "Ollie... How about you? Are you comfortable? Is Klaus protecting you?" "Klaus is the bestest diaper ever!" said the dimwitted diaper tester. "It feels so good to pee in him, and he makes me feel good! I love Klaus!" "Y-you love me?!" squeaked Klaus in surprise, blushing as hard as a diaper ever blushed. "Yuhhuh!" said Ollie, with a happy nod. Mr. Waddler rubbed his chin. "I see, I see... How do you feel about that, Klaus?" "Um, well... it feels... pretty good. No one’s ever... complimented me like that..." "And is there anything you want to say to Ollie, Klaus?" "Um... well... I..." After a moment's hesitation, Klaus finally blurted out his truth. "I love you too, Ollie! And I love being your diaper!” "Yay!!" Ollie bellowed. He immediately began rubbing the front of his Klaus diaper. *CRINK CRINK CRINK* "You make me feel good, Klaus! I want to make you feel good too!" "Ooh Ollie," cried Klaus, "not here in front of everyone!" "W-what is this? What are you doing with my son?!" asked Mr. Krinkler, finally coming around. "It would appear that Klaus and Ollie are in love," said Mr. Waddler, "and they are doing what lovebirds do..." "Oh, Papa! Don't look!" moaned Klaus. "Oh dear," said Dr. Dinkle, adjusting his glasses, "Herr Krinkler has fainted again!" "Why don’t we give these two some privacy to explore their newfound feelings?" said Mr. Waddler, ushering the ogling outsiders away. The tour group was now down to just five people: Russell Butts, the nonstop streamer now stymied without his phone; Charlie and Grandpa Joe, who were glowing like kids in a candy store; and Princess Paddington, the spoiled aristocrat with her long-suffering royal attendant, Jeeves. The group piled into the crinkle kart, leaving the R&D department behind. On they crinkled down long halls and corridors until they reached a massive room with all sorts of automated equipment for diaper inspections and testing. "This is the quality control department," said Mr. Waddler, with a confident smile. "We pride ourselves on having a one-hundred-percent catch rate for manufacturing errors! Whether it be poorly placed padding or muddled misprints, defective diapers are never to leave this factory." Mr. Waddler pointed his cane at a conveyor line where Crinkle Winkles in jeweler's glasses inspected diapers with the speed and grace of a choreographed dance. "Each diaper on the line is opened up and inspected visually. If a Crinkle Winkle detects the slightest imperfection, the diaper is placed on the conveyor belt to the left and that whole run is pulled. If there is no error, the diaper goes off to the right to go to the next stage of quality testing. Come on, everyone, let's follow those diapers to the next step in the process!" The guests followed the conveyor belt around the room as Mr. Waddler continued to narrate. "Once the Crinkle Winkles ensure that there are no glaring issues, the diapers must be tested. Wouldn’t want any loose leak guards or pin holes in the plastic to cause a leak, would we? First comes the stretch test..." The group watched as approved diapers were fed into big taffy machines to be stretched and pulled every which way. Next, the plastic was prodded and poked by massive mashers, clamping down on them with their metal teeth. Then came the flamethrowers. Charlie looked away, unable to bear the sight of such pitiless padded punishment. Russell and Princess Paddington both scoffed at Charlie’s childish sensitivity, but Mr. Waddler put an understanding arm around the young man's shoulders. "It’s all right," said Mr. Waddler. "I feel the same way, but it has to be done. And even if they rip, they can always be used as stuffers!" "I suppose so," said Charlie, "but what if they aren't used as stuffers? It just feels like they’re being wasted." "Not every diaper will be used," said Mr. Waddler with a tear in his eye, "not even the ones that make it to market. It's just something we have to live with as world-class diaper distributors." Charlie sighed and nodded, and Mr. Waddler respectfully gave him a few minutes to collect himself before they moved on to the next step in the process. "What a baby," muttered Russell. "Peasant problems," said the princess. "I could go through ten diapers just choosing my morning outfit!" Grandpa Joe gave them both dirty looks. "Ignore them, Charlie. Caring is a good thing, and don't let anyone tell you different!" Next came the wear test. Human and Crinkle Winkle testers used treadmills, ellipticals, stairmasters, stationary bikes, squat machines and other contraptions while soaking the diapers to their limits. Even the polite Charlie couldn't stifle his giggles when he spotted a tester hopping from foot to foot to stay on the treadmill while his ridiculously huge diaper bobbed and bounced. "It may look funny," said Mr. Waddler, holding up a finger, "but what we're doing here is dead serious. We have to test all aspects of how these diapers perform under pressure, so if a certain variety has a failure point, we will find it. But movement is just one part of it. The last test is where the rubber meets the road - or should I say, where the water meets the SAP? No, no, where the diaper meets the crinkle? Hmm, I'll have to work on that one. Follow me!" The group hurried after the fleet-footed factory owner past the motion machines to an area where dozens of testers were lined up with pacifier gags hooked up to giant tanks labeled 'Super Hydration Juice'. Many of the diapers had gone translucent, stretched taut like water balloons from the sheer volume of liquid within their crinkly confines. Charlie could barely believe his eyes; he had never seen diapers pushed to their absolute limit quite like these! "What in the actual sigma is happening here?" asked Russell, clearly unnerved. "This, my friends, is the Hydration Station where we test maximum diaper capacity," responded Mr. Waddler. "These testers are strapped into diapers that pass the wear test, and they don't get out until the diaper fails! Such a feat would normally take ages, but with the help of our super efficient hydration delivery system, anyone can become a diaper demolishing super soaker!" "Is this safe?" asked Charlie, slowly backing away from the splash zone. "Perfectly," said Mr. Waddler, "We design our diapers to hold at least double what we put on the package. When a diaper doesn't pass the double ironclad Willy Waddler capacity standard, we know it's time to retool our machines!" He paused and rubbed his chin. "Of course no diaper has ever failed the double ironclad Willy Waddler capacity standard, but that doesn't mean we can let our guard down!" Suddenly there was a commotion amongst the Crinkle Winkle workers as they crowded around a couple of chuggers whose diapers had ballooned to the size of the people wearing them. The Crinkle Winkles began pumping their fists and chanting, "Wet! Wet! Wet!" "What’s going on?" asked Charlie. "It's a leak-off!" said Mr. Waddler, grinning madly. "The most popular spectator sport in the factory. We're very lucky to witness this!" "A leak off?" asked Princess Paddington, perplexed. "That's right," said Willy Waddler. "When two or more diapers get close to leaking, everyone rushes over to see which one will give out first. Place your bets, everyone!" The first tester was wearing a Waddler Deluxe. He was swimming in SAP, squirming around as his diaper sagged to the floor. The second tester was wearing Wading Waddlers. She was floating at least six inches off the ground thanks to her swollen seat which bulged in all directions. The group could make out the super absorbent polymer, swollen like Orbeez under the taut, translucent plastic of the diapers. "You might want these," said Mr. Waddler, passing out ponchos and safety goggles to the onlookers. "Isn't this a bit unnecessary?" said Charlie. "I mean we have to be way past double capacity..." "Where's your sense of fun, Charlie?" asked Grandpa Joe. "Put me down for ten on the Wading Waddlers!" The diapers expanded wider and wider with everyone chanting, "Wet! Wet! Wet!" until finally, the Waddler Deluxe burst followed shortly by the swim diapers deluging their legs and the floor below in a big yellow waterfall. "It's a photo finish!" called Willy Waddler, as globs of yellow SAP splattered his poncho. Grandpa Joe did a little jig. "I called it Charlie!" he shouted over the cheering Crinkle Winkles. "My gambler's intuition never fails! Just don't tell Grandma." "And that's how we test our diapers," said Mr. Waddler, pulling off his goggles. "Speaking of diaper checks, you may be wondering how we manage all the diaper changes in this fun-filled factory. Follow me!" Mr. Waddler led them on a long jog until they reached the walls of the room, where changing stations abounded, many of them occupied. "I present to you the Willy Waddler Automated Diaper Changing Machine! Observe!" The group watched as a Crinkle Winkle waddled up to one of the stations, which lit up and beeped as he drew near. "Needs changing!" came the voice of the machine. Two mechanical arms with gloved hands shot out of the machine and picked up the padded purple piddler. "The machine identifies when something needs to be changed, removes it, and sends it to the dirty diaper pail. Isn't it fantastic?" As soon as the wet worker hit the changing pad, straps went across his chest, comfortably holding him in place while another hand popped a pacifier in his mouth. Two gloved hands tugged open the diaper tapes and another one swooped in to wipe him down while a fourth hand held baby powder at the ready. Charlie felt an instant pang of jealousy as he watched the Crinkle Winkle smile in contentment, sucking away at his binky as the machine did all the work. "There goes the old diaper!" said Mr. Waddler as the hands tossed the diaper into a big chute. "Say bye bye everyone!" The diaper changing machine finished up with a nice, snug, thick diaper. "And there you have it, folks. It's full service from start to finish!" "Where do all the diapers go?" asked Charlie. "Why, into the big diaper pail, of course!" said Mr. Waddler, pulling out his phone to reveal a CCTV image of an enormous diaper pit. The Crinkle Winkle's diaper rolled down the big sloped floor into a giant pit of diapers. "Jeeves! I want one!" yelled Princess Paddington. "Very good, your Highness," sighed Jeeves. "I’m afraid these machines are not for sale," said Mr. Waddler. "They're far too sensitive for human-" "I need one! I need one!" screamed Princess Paddington, stomping on the ground and puffing her cheeks. "Holy crashout!" said Russell as the princess continued her tiresome tirade. "Is this NPC still in beta mode? Somebody give her a reboot!" Jeeves sighed. "Don’t worry, she'll run out of steam eventually... it's not very often she hears 'no'." "Now, now." said Willy Waddler, wagging his finger, "You’ll have your chance to try one once we can calibrate them for ordinary human use. Until then, you'll just have to be patient." "You want me to wait?! Like some commoner?" shouted Princess Paddington. "I'm not ordinary. I'm exceptional in every way! Even a machine can see that." Princess Paddington hiked up her skirts and stomped over to the nearest open machine. "Please don’t do that," said Mr. Waddler, but it was too late. As she got closer, the machine beeped. "Needs changing!" Several robot hands lifted her onto the table. "Initiating Change!!" The hands went into action, releasing the straps and lifting Princess Paddington up. "What is the meaning of this? What’s going on?" cried the princess. "I thought this machine was supposed to change me!" "Oh, dear," said Mr. Waddler. "I was afraid this might happen." "Afraid what might happen?" asked Charlie. "Is it a malfunction?" "On the contrary, my boy. The machine has sensed that Princess Paddington is in need of a change. All of her. I’m afraid this happens to some people, particularly those with a foul attitude." "Of all the insolent nonsense!" squealed Princess Paddington. "This is treason! Off with your haaaaaands!" The cacophonous complaint became a distant echo as the machine pitched the petulant princess down the garbage chute. "Crinkle Winkle technicians will get right on it," called Mr. Waddler into the chute. "We really do need to get to installing that big red emergency stop button, don’t we?" "What's going to happen to her?" asked Charlie. "Let's see," said Mr. Waddler, holding up his phone. They watched as Princess Paddington tumbled out of the chute and landed on the sloped floor above the giant pit of diapers. Despite her desperate attempts to scrabble up the smooth surface, she continued sliding down, down, down, ultimately landing on the giant yellow pile of diapers and sinking down to her neck. Mr. Waddler pulled a handheld radio out of his vest and pressed the broadcast button. "Are you there, Princess Paddington? Can you hear me?" "Of course I can hear you, you dolt!" came the princess's angry voice through the speaker. "Get me out of here! This is highly undignified!" Everyone jumped when they heard a chuckle behind them. "Ha... hahaha! Oh dear!" It was Jeeves! "Did you... Did you just laugh, or did my ears deceive me?" asked Grandpa Joe. "I think this might be the first time I’ve seen you crack a smile!" The smiling steward fought to catch his breath. "Pardon the impropriety, sir, hee-hee, but I can't seem to control myself! Hahaha! It's high time Princess Paddington was *Chortle* put in her place!" "What's going on out there?" called Princess Paddington. "Hello?" "Ah, don't worry, Princess," said Mr. Waddler, pressing his mouth to his sleeve as he tried not to crack up himself. "The, uh, *SNRK* Crinkle Winkle technicians will be there soon to assess the situation." The group watched as two more diapers tumbled out of the chute and hit the defenseless Princess Paddington right in the face. "Eek! Hurry or I'll have your heads!" Mr. Waddler pulled out his flute and blew into it with a toot toot. Out came the Crinkle Winkles, who launched right into their Crinkle Winkle Tune. "Crinkle Winkle dinkity doo. Princess Paddington‘s in quite a stew. It’s no wonder she’s in the pail. Her attitude was totally stale. What do you do with a princess so spoiled, attitude like a diaper that's soiled? Can you teach an old princess new tricks, Or is she like her padding, much too thick? Crinkle Winkle dinkity doo, Let us hope she learns something new. Crinkle Winkle dinkity dee, So we can go and set her free!" The Crinkle Winkles, having already assessed the situation, whispered into Mr. Waddler's ear. His face became more serious and he let out a deep sigh. Everyone in the room was at the edge of their seats waiting to hear what he would say. "Well, don't leave us hanging!" said Grandpa Joe, "What is the prognosis for the royal pain in the butt?" "I’m afraid it’s too dangerous for them to go in directly," said Mr. Waddler, "so it's up to the diaper sensing machines to detect the error and pull her out." "What does that mean?" asked Charlie, fearing for the poor princess. "It means our automated changing machines could be offline for a very long time." With another exasperated sigh, Mr. Waddler spoke into the radio. "Princess Paddington, I'm afraid I have bad news..." "You tell that lowly machine to let me out right this instant by order of the princess!" "I don’t think the machine recognizes your royal status, your highness," said Mr. Waddler. "The only way out will be to learn some manners to prove to the machine that you're not trash. And since the machine is calibrated for Crinkle Winkles, who better to teach you? Worry not, Princess, we’re bringing in the finest Crinkle Winkle experts in etiquette to coach you to think like a Crinkle Winkle." Jeeves had broken out into full laughter now. "Yes, yes, some time in the diaper pail is just what she needs! She's been running rampant for far too long!" "Is she going to be all right?" asked Charlie as Mr. Waddler stuffed the two-way radio back into his vest. "Oh yes, absolutely fine, better than ever," said Mr. Waddler, waving off Charlie's worries. "The Crinkle Winkles are turning off the automated changing stations as we speak. It'll just take a minute because there are quite a few stations that lead to this pail. Hopefully she doesn't get too many more soggy surprises before they're finished. In the meantime, we still have a tour to finish! Let's get a move on, shall we?" "May I come along?" asked Jeeves. "You don’t want to stay with the princess?" asked Mr. Waddler. "Please don’t make me," begged Jeeves. Mr. Waddler, being a merciful man, allowed Jeeves to join the group. It was the first time Jeeves had been free of the princess for years. "On to the next stage of diaper development, everyone: Marketing!"

Chapter 5: Lingering Echoes The cool liquid rushed through my veins. The room began to dissolve around the edges. The sharp beep… beep… beep… of the heart monitor slowed into a rhythmic, steady pulse, then faded entirely into the soft sound of wind howling through broken windowpanes and empty corridors. The heavy smell of hospital wax and antiseptic melted away, replaced once more by the damp, dusty odor of crumbling plaster and wet concrete. My eyelids fluttered, feeling light and clear. The blinding white glare of the hospital LEDs flickered above me and instantly condensed into a wobbling beam of yellow light slicing through the gloom. The beam of my flashlight cut across the peeling, sea-foam green paint of the subterranean corridor at St. Jude’s Sanatorium, watching the shadows recoil before slinking back into place. I was standing upright, my fingers locked around the cold aluminum handle of my heavy metal flashlight. The air was thick enough to choke on—damp concrete, rusted iron, the sweet rot of insulation that had been soaking up moisture for thirty years. My boots crunched through layers of debris: shattered safety glass, chunks of fallen plaster, the spongy remains of floorboards that had long ago surrendered to decay. My wife’s voice echoed in my memory. Faint. Distant. “Please don’t go back there. That place isn’t just abandoned—it’s wrong. People who go in don’t come back the same.” I’d kissed her forehead, promised I’d be careful, promised I’d text when I was inside and when I was out. She’d held my gaze a beat too long, her thumb tracing the line of my jaw. “Take care of yourself, my brave explorer. Just relax and come back to me.” Now, standing in the damp darkness, I wondered if she’d been right. Passing a rusted doorway labeled WARD 4B: CHILDREN & TEEN WARD. The words had faded to ghostly shadows, barely legible through the rust and grime. The paint was flaking, the metal corroded, but the shape was unmistakable. Something caught my eye. A fragment of something that didn’t belong in a place sealed for thirty years. Something smooth and green, catching the light of my flashlight. I knelt, my knees popping in the cold, and kicked away the debris. The object emerged slowly. The plaster crumbled under my boot, the lath splintering with a dry, brittle sound. It was a diaper. A vintage Tena from the 1990s. Smooth, crinkly, pale-green plastic backing. Thick white adhesive tapes that had yellowed with age. The familiar shape of it—the familiar weight—sent a shiver through me. I picked it up. The plastic was cold, the padding dry and light. There was something familiar about it, the way the surface rustled stiffly under my thumb, the way the tapes had yellowed. A ghost of a memory I couldn’t quite catch, like a word on the tip of my tongue. The plastic was perfectly flat. Pristine. Bone-dry. As if it had been waiting thirty years to be used. Waiting for someone to pick it up. Waiting for someone to put it on. I turned it over in my hands, studying the faded branding, the smooth plastic shell. The logo was worn, barely legible, but I recognized it. I had seen it before. And then I felt it—the familiar weight between my thighs. The modern diaper beneath my jeans, soft and discreet, but unmistakably wet. The padding was swollen, heavy, pressing against my skin with a warmth I couldn’t explain. I unbuttoned my trousers and pulled back the waistband. The modern Tena was fitted snugly to my frame, the padding swollen and heavy. The plastic was cloth-like, almost silent, but the bulk was undeniable. The vintage diaper in my hands was dry. The modern diaper on my body was wet. When did that happen? I dropped the vintage diaper. It landed on the floor with a soft crinkle, the sound loud and sharp in the dead silence. It lay there, pale-green and waiting, just as it had been waiting when I found it. Just as it would be waiting again. And then the ringing started. It wasn’t a sound, not really—it was a pressure, a sharp metallic vibration that seemed to originate from inside my own skull. It built and built, a rising tide of noise that drowned out everything else. The corridor began to blur at the edges. The shadows stretched and twisted. The air grew thick and hot, the damp rot of the ruins giving way to something else—something sterile and burning. The scent of bleach. The hum of fluorescent lights. The ringing grew louder. Sharper. More insistent. It was in my bones, in my blood, in the spaces between my thoughts. And somewhere, beneath it all, I could have sworn I heard the faint, distant sound of a lullaby. The tune was simple, repetitive, the notes slightly warped, like a music box mechanism wearing out. Soft. Steady. Waiting.

Me I am blushes hehe 

Amazing job