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The Reading ImprobableLemon Have you ever felt an inexplicable urge to go somewhere? A tickle in your brain directing you to do something? I’m getting that right now. All for a plain looking building. With a generic name to match. Tarot Readings. First reading was free if the window ad was to be believed. I chew on my lip as I stand aside the entrance. Eyeballing the door as I try to push away the urge. I’m not interested in tarot. It’s a crock of shit. Like hotline psychics they read suckers and spin stories for desperate people to cling to. That is to say- I don’t believe it. With a sigh I throw a glance around the empty street. I’d much rather die than let anyone see me go in. With the coast clear I enter. A bell attached to the door ringing sharply. Seated at an antique table of dark wood is exactly who I would expect. A dark-haired beauty in her early 30’s with a beauty mark on her right cheek. My eyes are drawn to the studs and rings that dot her ears in an asymmetrical pattern. Medallions dangle from the nest of chains around her neck. She’s in a fishnet shirt covered by a black leather tank top. I can make out the dark ink of tattoos under the fishnet. Something about the confident smug look on her face… The way she’s seated… Some people you’re just predisposed to dislike. She’s that for me. I can feel it. “Welcome, welcome. I’ve been expecting you. Please have a seat.” She gestures to the seat across from her. The only unoccupied seat in the room. I take it. “Uh huh. You were expecting me?” Despite rolling my eyes and a bit of a snarky tone, I take the offered seat. She grins. “Yes.” “I never come to places like this? I could’ve very easily kept moving.” “And yet…” She gestures to me. Seated before her, very much in a place like this. I grumble, unable to retort. Her smile widens as if taking victory from the short exchange. She pulls a deck of cards from under the table. Their backs decorated in a series of black lines on a white background that means nothing to me. They dance in her hands as she shuffles the cards with long practiced mastery. My eyes widening at a level of skill even my skeptical ass can appreciate. Drawing a single card, she places the deck before herself and speaks. “You may call me Reader. It is as much my profession as it is my name. The cards know all and I know the cards. Now let us begin with the past… Emily Maude.” Small hairs on my arm and back of my neck raise as she places the card between us. My name is printed, not written on the card, in Times New Roman font. The spooky sensation is quickly replaced with a flood of indignant anger. “Hey now, did you have someone following me? Is this planned? You trying to con me?” Reflexively my hand brushes my back pocket to make sure my wallet is still on my person. The Reader’s eyes alight and seem to dance, the grin twisting into a smirk. She speaks as she draws three cards and arranges them between us. “Calm down, I’m just setting the stage for you to take this seriously. Before we get to the part you really want to know about.” The woman continues to rub me the wrong way with patronizing tone and look. “And what’s that?” “We’ll get there. Now, these cards represent your past. Please flip the first one.” Against my better judgement I go ahead. It’s a weirdly dressed guy surrounded by cups. The Reader nods her head. “Six of cups. You’re nostalgic for the past.” “Who isn’t? And don’t these cards have multiple meanings?” “Next card, please.” She ignores my question, exuding confidence. Next card is a cloaked man surrounded by cups; half of the cups are tipped over. “Five of cups. Emotional turmoil.” My eyes narrow at her. Emotional turmoil and nostalgia for the past? I have a feeling I know where this is headed. But how would the Reader know? Neither of us have an online presence, and only close friends know or care. Without prompting, I flip the third card. Last card is a wise looking man with a heard. Holding a staff and a lantern. “Hermit. Looks like you’ve been through a period of solitude.” My left eye twitches. I open my mouth to speak but shut it, not sure where to start. After a pause I get the words out. “How did you do that.” Not a question, a statement. The Reader leans back in her chair, offering an innocent look. “The same way I knew your name. But I haven’t said anything yet, Emily. Don’t ruin my fun.” “Well, you don’t have. I’m not stupid. We both know. I know you know. How though? Did I look sad or something? Bags under my eyes? A friend trying to prank me?” “Nothing of the sort. The cards informed me of the recent breakup you’ve yet to get over; the one you’re very nostalgic for despite the fact that Jane ripped your heart out.” Her matter-of-fact tone sent shivers up my spine. A similar feeling like when she’d revealed that card with my name. “Not true.” I lied. “Liar.” Her single word response contained the arrogant authority of someone that knows they are utterly correct. The smug look on her face makes me irrationally mad. “Fuck, what am I even doing here…?” “You came because you desire insight on your future. Even if it’s not something you knew you wanted.” That gave me pause. Gears began turning in my head. There’s no way… But what if…? The small part of my brain prepared to believe has grown given the circumstances. If this were an elaborate prank, they were about to get me good. “Let’s say hypothetically… That I bought into your song and dance. Could you answer my questions?” The Reader nods her head, stroking her chin in a thoughtful manner. “We could manage something like that. Hypothetically, of course. You get three questions- make them count.” She taps the deck with emphasis on ‘we’. I can only roll my eyes; a bit of tension I wasn’t aware of having leaving my body. “What is this genie bullshit.” “If you wish to lighten your wallet, we could finagle the number a bit…”  Her toying gaze turns gleefully predatory with the introduction of finances into the conversation. “If you didn’t mention my wallet, I’d think this was a ‘you pay with means beyond the monetary’ kind of deal.” “I’ll have you know I am a reputable business woman. Free sessions have led to me garnering quite a number of well-paying regulars.” “So- about those three questions. Do I just spill them all now or one at a time?” I’d only got a few words out before the Reader had already dealt three cards out, plucking them from random places in the deck with precision. “Going all at once before might keep you on track.” “Uh can you pick those cards so cavalier like that? You haven’t heard my questions.” “All present know what you’re to ask.” “And if I decided to be spontaneous or even lie?” She snorts dismissing me with a wave. “You’re not the type to waste precious insight on such frivolity.” She’s right, but that only annoys me. What’s she reading? Me or the Cards? “How’s my immediate future? Will I be happy long-term? Is another partner in my future?” “Was that so hard? All the setup we had to go through for those few words. Go ahead, flip the card on the left.” Hesitantly I lift a corner and flip the specified card. Unlike the previous cards this was obviously not a tarot card. Not that I’m some kind of tarot judge. This was a picture printed on the card, not art. Tearing my eyes away from the picture I glance down to confirm what I already knew. It’s me. In the same brown skirt, black cardigan, and white shirt. With the same brunette medium length haircut that’s left annoying bangs poking my eyes. Only difference is the large stain on the front of picture Emily’s skirt, and rivulets of liquid running down her legs. We share the same mortified expression. “What the hell is this?” The Reader looks on in amusement. “Not common, but not totally uncommon.” “It’s a picture of me pissing myself on 3 by 5 cardstock; what do you mean uncommon, are you fucked?” “2.75 by 4.75 actually. The other times didn’t have you in them, obviously.” “So what, Reader? Is this some cute way of saying my immediate future is full of unfortunate accidents…?” She pulls the card towards her, giving it a quick once over before sliding it to me. A delighted smirk colors her face and all the more irritates me. “Nothing of the sort, Emily. I’m afraid you’re going to be pissing your pants. A lot. Judging by your purse, anyway.” I pull the card closer, trying to see what the Reader had in her short peruse. The purse dangling from my shoulder is open in the picture. Notably a few bundles of cloth are peeking out. Those are panties, some I recognize as having bought just the other day. Unfortunately I reach the same conclusion. My hand massages my temple as I glare at the Reader who returns the look with mirth. “Fine, I’m triply sold now. I haven’t pissed myself as an adult so I know pictures like this aren’t floating out there. I can’t even fathom how you’d even shop the picture together and print it in such a short time… How likely is this to happen.” “I’ll give you the same friendly advice I gave to the last to draw a card like that. Invest in some spare undies.” “I don’t want to look at the rest.” As my arms fold in front of myself, the Reader laughs and tries to reassure me. “Come now, I’ve Read for a long time. This was the low point. The rest’ll be better.” “God damn it.” It can’t be worse. With that thought I flip the middle card and immediately regret my decision. Before the card settles on the table, the Reader lets out a few strangled snorts before she can control herself and reapply a slightly off smile that could break at a moment. “It- It’s not so bad.” The Reader barely got the words out. Not believing her own words. “Yeah Reader? Tell me which part? Is it the giant diaper, the large bib covering my tits, or the playpen I’m in?” I ask pointedly, cold fury in my voice. Unable to look me in the eye without breaking she turns her head and takes a deep breath before continuing. “You look so happy.” True enough the relaxed smile on picture Emily’s face contrasts my own incensed expression. “Fuck you. Does tearing the cards up get me out of this?” The Reader looks at me aghast like I’d harmed a puppy. “No! Don’t shoot the messenger! You may not like what you see now but the roads you travel lead to this.” “To me, a grown ass woman, pissing my pants and wearing diapers in a giant nursery?” “To you, a grown ass woman, pissing your pants and wearing diapers in a giant nursery.” If a blood vessel were to pop in my forehead I wouldn’t be surprised. She’s beyond annoying and frustrating. This is a bad joke and she’s having the time of her life. “And this is literal. There’s no deeper meaning or something?” “Gotta say this is a first for me, congrats by the way, but yeah. Literal.” “Wonderful. This is where I’m headed and there’s nothing I can do?” “I wouldn’t say that. I’ll retract my previous advice about the panties and suggest you spring for something a little more absorbent.” “I’m out of here.” I stand up. In under 30 minutes a mystical clown has informed me that I’m destined to be a pissy pants overgrown toddler all the while having a laugh. “Emily-“ “Bullshit! You can’t pitch me that this last one is guaranteed to be good!” “I can though.” The Reader says confidently. “Oh yeah? This some sort of fate gacha with guaranteed pull rates?” “First of all, that’s good. But come ooon. How much worse could it get?” She makes a totally convincing argument. And yet… “Sunk coast fallacy.” “You’re just one card flip away from a big win.” “You sound like a casino spokesperson. See ya.” I turn away ready to walk out the door when the Reader gives a compelling response. “I’ll admit I’ve played around a bit. To be entirely serious, you’ll always look back and wonder what the last card had in store. It’s human nature. Billions of people exist out there and it’s a hell of a thing to be offered a glimpse of your soulmate and get a headstart on them.” Looking back to get a read on her, I see the toying and irritating expressions are gone. For the first time I’ve heard something genuine out of her mouth. Slowly I sit back down at the table. As if a switch were flipped, the corner of the Reader’s mouth lift irritatingly. Holding my breath, I flip the last card. Or at least I tried to. I had gripped the corner and just started raising it from the table when I caught a glimpse of the Reader’s face out the corner of my eye. Entertained curiosity became confusion became horror. All in the span of the few moments it took for her to lunge forward and rip the card from my fingers. “Excuse you. What gives?” “You were right, you don’t really want to see this.” She’s sweating. Quite literally. “What happened to all that shit about human nature and this being a once in a lifetime opportunity?” “How about we call it a day.” The Reader clutches the card to her chest. A defiant glint in her eye. She’s not going to give in. She’s pissed me off and played with me this whole time. I won’t give in either. I stand up. As does she. At 5’10 I have a good 4 inches on her. “You’re showing me what’s got you so rattled.” “Not on your life.” She responds with a sneer. I inch my way around the table. She goes in the same direction, keeping a matching distance. I switch directions. She does as well, losing a bit of ground she has to rush to make up. We won’t get anywhere like this. I can’t go too far away from the door or she could run away. I switch directions again. While the Reader focuses on switching, I lunge over the table. Her eyes grow wide as I enter her space. “Give me. The. Card!” My hands work to pry her arms and hands away from the card as I grunt out the demand. She responds with determined grunts of her own. “No! No! No!” Strength and height advantage goes to me if only slightly. For her part, the Reader is rather good at keeping the card just out of reach just when I think I’ve pried it from her. This goes on for another minute before my thumb hooks and catches on her fishnet undershirt. Undercutting the quiet grunts as we struggle for the card is the sound of the shirt ripping as I leverage my hand. “Wait! WAIT! You’re tearing my shirt!” Sensing an end to the fight for the Card, I seize the moment. “It’s not my fault you have the damn thing pressed against your fishnet! Hand it over and we’ll untangle.” In close proximity I get a good view of her face as she mulls over the pros and cons. Her eyes shifting like a caged animal desperate for escape. Unable to hold an entirely still pose for long my hand shifts and the Reader tenses as the fabric stretches. She groans before shoving the card into my free palm. “Ugh just take it. I’ll untangle your hand before you do any more damage and we’ll do this again…” True to her word we do exactly that. Once more seated before one another. A triumphant smirk on my face as the Reader glowers. Without fanfare I flip the card face up. Laughter tickles the back of my throat. Holy shit was it worth struggling for the card. I can feel tears pricking the corner of my eyes as laughs burst forth. “Ha! Y-You’re such a bitch! Holy shi-it! You tried to keep this from me!” It’s a struggle to get the words out, I can’t breathe. The look on the Reader’s face sending me into fresh fits. “Yeah, yeah. Whatever.” She’s slumped forward in her chair, hands cupping each side of her face as she burns a hole in the card with her eyes. It’s her, the Reader. It would be funny in a cruel irony kinda way if that were it. But she’s leaning over me mid change as she wipes my most intimate parts with a baby wipe. A visibly wet diaper with faded flowery print balled up next to me; a fresh one already under my ass. “Ooh man… You were right, I can get a good Reading!” “Glad you’re happy, fucker. I’m stuck with permanent babysitting duty. Wiping the ass of the biggest baby in town.” She sullenly moans as I turn on her with a snarl. “You think I’m happy being the ‘biggest baby in town’? I’m happy you’re getting dragged down with me.” A seething silence of my own joins alongside the Reader’s as we stew in With a sense of morbid curiosity, I peek at picture Emily’s face. Content and happy with a little more… Her face is flushed and she’s biting her bottom lip. Clearly getting the most out of her change. The Reader is staring at picture Reader’s face, likely for similar reasons. Picture Reader looks much like the one before me, just in a slightly different fit. She looks happy as well, a red tint on her own face. For the first time since flipping the card we look up at each other. Both of us have an uneasy look. Deciding to break the silence, I speak up. “So… Uh… You never did a Reading about your future partners?” “I don’t Read for myself. If I had checked this before, I’d have run to the edge of Earth like Frankenstein escaping his monster.” That earned a chuckle from me. “Why not?” “My own brand of bullshit. It’s easier to believe I have free will so long as I don’t go poking fate with a stick, seeking answers.” Rather heavy. I’d rather not think too deeply on the implications these readings have about free will. That’s a panic attack better shelved for another time. “So… What now.” The Reader sighs. Eyeing the deck still sitting on the table. “I’m thinking another Reading for myself. We accidentally Read for myself, I’m curious what another one for me will say.” “Are you sure that’s a good idea? … And if you say ‘how much worse could it get’ I will dropkick you through a wall.” She grimaces, grabs from the top of the deck, and looks at it immediately without turning it around. “Ah.” “Is it… Bad?” I tentatively ask. She passes it over and I look. In shock I drop it to the table. No one’s prepared to be handed an image of themselves breastfeeding from another grown woman. The other woman’s hand caressing the back of your head while another hand is cupping your sagging diaper. “Maybe I should burn the deck… Start over as the president of an MLM or cult leader…” The Reader ponders aloud, sounding a mix of serious and joking. I place my hands on her shoulders, snapping her out of it. “I need a drink. Let’s get plastered.” ~~~ My how things change in a year. We were both curious what the cards saw in a potential relationship between us. So, we started casual. Drinks after work. Some dinners. A wild fuck. Sleepovers that don’t actually end and become permanent arrangements. It’s an opposites attract situation mixed with a touch of antagonism. The Reader pisses me off. She enjoys fucking with me. In regard to the other stuff… Both of us have a bit of a stubborn streak. Perhaps me a little more so. I ruined quite a few pair of pants and all my panties struggling against my padded fate. A fact that the Reader brings up at every opportunity… The bitch. A week after our relationship stepped up the accidents started and wouldn’t stop. No clue why, doctors didn’t know shit. Said it could be stress. The first diaper I put on was some prescribed, shitty medical thing. I was pressed against the bathroom wall with it stuck between the wall and my ass trying to finagle the bulk between my legs and tape the damn thing on. It was uncomfortable, it sucked, and I leaked on the couch within the hour. The Reader wasn’t pleased. When she forced my leaky butt down on a changing mat, I immediately got it. Subby little feelings flooded my brain like fireworks. It triggered something in the Reader as well. Her touch was both gentle and like electricity when she touched my bare skin. She wiped much longer than necessary but stopped far too soon. It’d been done on purpose if her smirk was anything to go by. By the time she finished powdering me up and had the tapes expertly affixed I was a writhing mess. The Reader was not much better, all but drooling over me. Pushing all the right buttons I didn’t know I had. That was the turning point. Falling into the roles advertised by the cards was like discovering drugs. I was babied the fuck out that weekend, and she was mommy as hell. We ran to the store and pooled money to buy so much shit that night. Stuffies, coloring books, sippies, bottles- the works. Officially I moved into her place by the end of the month. Before I knew it, I was the owner of a fully stocked adult baby nursery. Yippee. Things settled down after the initial discovery. We incorporated the kinky lifestyle into our everyday lives. Over the explosive 24/7 weekend stints born of mutual desperation. Presently I’m chewing away on my paci, reading some sci-fi while I wait for the Reader to get back. Cozied up in my evening onesie, premium ABDL diaper, and plush thigh highs on the couch. Eventually I hear the front door open and close. But I refuse to look up from my book. I hear the Reader shuffling around the house before she sneaks up behind me and pats my head. I shudder and lean into her hand. “What a brat. Not even gonna say ‘hi beautiful, how was work’?” “Oh right. Ahem. Hewwo mommy, how was workies? I’m so sowwy I huwt youw feewings.” She blanches, looking to be in great physical pain. I smirk at her suffering. “Jesus, you know that kills me.” “I fight with the tools I have. You attacked my character with brat allegations.” “You retaliated with unnecessary force… Now if you don’t mind-“ The Reader leans forward, snaking a hand between my legs. Pretending like I don’t care I return my focus back to the book. She squeezes the front of my bulging diaper, long wet sap leaving indents that the taut onesie conforms to. Unnecessarily she slips a finger between the leg guards. Her cool finger against my inner thigh jolts me as I glare up at her, setting the book down. That damn grin on her face gives the appearance of someone happy to be a menace. I’d seen it wiped off her face one time so far- that being the day we met. “You wanna talk unnecessary force? I’m obviously soaked…” “Well, babygirl, you can have a say in how I check you when you change yourself like a big girl. But until then…” She gives another vengeful stroke before extracting her hand from my diaper with a smirk. “I’ll continue doing things my own way.” “Whatever, mommy. You gonna change me or what?” “I guess I’ve tormented you enough. Let’s get to the changing table.” “Ooh, someone’s feeling fancy tonight. I’ll take that over the pad any day of the week.” I jump up and lead the charge to the nursery. My gait an obvious waddle from the diaper between my legs. The onesie snapped shut doing wonders to keep my padding from breaking at the tapes. It doesn’t take being a Reader to guess that the Reader’s gaze is fixated on my padding enhanced ass. Once at the fully stocked table, I climb atop it. The Reader affixes the strap across my chest. A wholly unnecessary addition lacking in practicality while maximizing fun. My onesie gets unbuttoned and she pushes the flaps up and out of the way. Exposing my diaper to the room. She presses the sodden mass into me one last time, a parting treat for both of us. I shiver as cold air hits my so-called princess parts with the diaper’s untaping. Then I shiver for another reason as the Reader attacks my nethers with wipes. With only a small amount of shame I can admit that I may have bucked my hips into her hands once or twice during this change. The Reader has plans of her own. As the last wipe is disposed of into the used diaper, she aggressively leans for a kiss. Obviously, I reciprocate. The damn strap around my chest keeping me from pouncing on the smaller girl and inevitably ruining her ‘fancy work dress’ with another unprotected accident. After a nice game of make out she breaks away, somewhat disheveled, to fluff a diaper with the same flowery design as the one on the card that set us down this path. The sight of which gets me thinking. “I still wonder… Whether the cards gave us this fetish or if the desire was always there.” “I keep telling you, Reading isn’t some magic reality bending kink factory.” “I’ve helplessly pissed my pants for just under a year, Reader. I could make some arguments to the contrary.” “The sample size between the two of us was fucked the moment we did the Reading. If we didn’t do the Reading and were still in this position, this conversation wouldn’t happen. From all my past experiences the cards are displaying, not guiding fate.” I lift my butt up as the new diaper is placed beneath me. High capacity, thick, and comfy. The Reader begins massaging powder into my loins. I try to focus on the conversation despite overwhelming odds. “Fair, I guess. Who’s to say the Cards aren’t operating in your blind spot? If the Cards are trying to get me to give up my potty training by telling me it’s no use holding onto it, that’s manipulation not guidance.” “I suppose you could make the argument in any given scenario that the cards are trying to directly interfere with fate by planting seeds. What do you suppose the cards get out our unconventional relationship?” “A sexy ass diaper girl for their favorite Reader.” I bat my eyes at her from the changing table. She laughs as she pulls the front panel up, working on getting the padding just right between the legs. “I always said you got the better end of the deal.” “Really, Reader? Not this again.” “You just gotta sit there, looking all cute and babie. Piss your pants or make big pushies and shake your padded butt at me for a change.” “Aw weh, it’s so hard being in charge and teasing my adult baby girl! I only have full control over her diapers, cummies, and unlimited access to big girl panties! Boo fucking hoo.” We both look at each other and giggle, which inevitably become full force laughs. By the time it winds down, the Reader has put the finishing touches on adjusting my tapes. “I’m inclined to believe we always had a hidden interest in this. I’d rather not think on the implications otherwise.” “Fair enough. Now you wanna hurry up and get me dressed, I’m hungry.” The Reader grumbles to herself as she unstraps me from the table. “And she says I’m in charge. I’m the one taking orders from the bossiest bottom…”

Aways down to click with some folks

now....... imagine being DL only since 1970s..... and find out you have Multiple Sclerosis at 59 and and cannot feel yourself having to urinate or knowing you have too - - or feeling you have to and can't ...... then find out minimal to huge floods in a grocery store, putting gas in your car  - - - Multiple Sclerosis plays tricks on you.

Just this very morning, after doffing my bedtime diaper and pjs, I found myself standing naked at the closet door. Like that proverbial donkey torn between food and water, about to die from thirst and starvation, I couldn't decide. Do I put on a fresh diaper, or take a break and get some underwear. Honestly, I stood there for almost two minutes. I'd come to grips with the idea that I'll never give up this fetish completely, but I've gotten to the point where I don't 'binge & purge' anymore. If I feel some shame and want to stop for a while, I stop. But I keep my things put away and just enjoy living. Then when I feel a 'tickle' in the back of my balls... I open up the box of things, take out a diaper and plastic pants and ....  well, you know. Enjoy being a little "mama's boy" For me, I let the pendulum swing back and forth a bit, but I don't let it fly off the clock into outer space any more. If I feel like wearing under my clothes in public, I do just that. Or not. I've resigned myself that this is who I am. Maybe life could be better, but it could always be worse. And I've learned that I just don't give a damn what others think. I'm a good person overall and enjoy myself. P.S. I'll leave it to your imagination what I decided this morning...  

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