Trading Post

Camila was overjoyed to hear her call her mommy, she knew this was the first small step in getting Emily to be her new baby, but it was a step. When they got into the dining room Camilla said, "Ana look who I have with me, two adorable but naughty little angels who have very grumbly tummies." Camilla put Emily and Alice in their high chairs before putting bibs around their neck she saw that Madison had already left likely she was in the living room with Becca.

Does he get regressed or not in this story 

Chapter 24 the day began with the rhythmic click of the car door and the oppressive silence of the suburbs. Mrs. Gable steered the sedan toward the sprawling complex of the Silver Oaks Rehabilitation Center, her gaze fixed forward, though she was acutely aware of the trembling man in the passenger seat. Leo sat stiffly, the tailored grey fabric of his trousers masking the absorbent bulk that now defined his silhouette. He felt the absence of his underwear—the stark, open vulnerability of the jock strap—as a cold draft against his skin, a constant reminder that he was now an open book, and she was the only one with the key. As the car slid to a halt before the towering glass doors of the main entrance, Mrs. Gable didn’t immediately unlock the doors. She turned to him, her eyes scanning his pale face with a look of possessive pride. "Remember the protocol, Leo. No striving. No pretending. Just the quiet acceptance of your needs." She reached over, her hand grazing his thigh just inches from the zipper of those specially engineered trousers, a silent promise of the accessibility she had demanded. When the lock finally clicked, she didn't tell him to go; she practically exhaled him out of the vehicle. As Leo stepped onto the concrete, the sudden openness of the plaza felt like a stage where he was the only actor without a script. He turned back to the car, his movement sluggish, his gut already humming with the artificial urgency of the slurry. Mrs. Gable remained in the driver's seat, the engine idling with a low, predatory thrum. She didn't wave. She didn't smile. She simply watched him, her expression one of absolute ownership. "See you inside, Leo," she said. The words weren't a farewell; they were a summons. The phrase carried a heavy, double-meaning that echoed in the void of his stomach—a reminder that no matter how many corridors he navigated or how many people he assisted, he was merely venturing into a larger room where she remained the sole administrator. “Keep your chin up, Leo. You look like you’re walking to a gallows, not a career,” his uncle, Arthur, boomed, clapping a heavy hand onto Leo’s shoulder. Arthur was a man of loud suits and louder convictions, a political operative who viewed the world as a series of rooms to be conquered. He led Leo away from the sterile reception of the center and into the cramped, frantic ecosystem of the district office. It was a place of mahogany desks buried under mountains of manila folders and the constant, rhythmic clatter of old keyboards. The air was thick with the scent of ozone from a dying photocopier and the stale aroma of lukewarm coffee. “This is the engine room, Leo. The real work happens here, not in the press releases,” Arthur explained, gesturing wildly toward a cluster of aides who looked as though they hadn't slept since the previous election cycle. He steered Leo through the narrow aisles, the oversized rear of Leo’s tailored trousers occasionally brushing against the edges of filing cabinets. Every time Leo shifted his weight, he felt the heavy, absorbent bulk of his padding shifting against his skin, a secret, sodden anchor that kept him tethered to the reality of his dependency while his uncle spoke of ambition and legacy. “And here,” Arthur announced, his voice booming with a misplaced sense of triumph, “is the woman who actually keeps this ship from sinking. The indispensable, the formidable Mrs. Gable.” Leo stopped dead. The name alone acted like a physical blow, but the sight of her was a total eclipse of his confidence. She was perched behind a desk of polished oak, looking less like a coworker and more like a sovereign in her own private court. She didn't stand up; she simply looked at him, her eyes scanning the line of his tailored grey trousers with a slow, proprietary precision that made Leo feel as though he were naked in the middle of the office. “Mrs. Gable?” Leo’s voice cracked, the sound barely audible over the hum of the office. He looked from his uncle’s beaming face to the woman behind the desk, his mind racing to bridge the gap between the clinical silence of her home and the bureaucratic chaos of the district office. “How... how did you get a job here?” The question hung in the air, momentarily stalling Arthur’s enthusiastic introductions. Arthur let out a booming laugh, the sound echoing off the mahogany walls and momentarily drowning out the frantic clicking of keyboards. He looked at Leo with an expression of genuine amusement, as if his nephew had just asked why the sky was blue. “How did she get a job?” Arthur repeated, his voice rich with admiration. “Leo, this woman is a force of nature. She didn’t apply; she didn’t wait for a posting. She cold-called me—directly on my private line—and demanded a position. Not a request for an interview, mind you, but a demand. She laid out exactly how she could streamline my operations before I could even ask her name. I loved her assertiveness; it’s a rare quality in this town. She told me she’d take any job." “So, what exactly is her job?” Leo asked, the words feeling small and fragile in the vastness of the office. He felt a cold sweat prickling under the tailored grey fabric of his trousers, the absorbent bulk of his padding shifting as he shifted his weight. He was searching for a loophole, some administrative boundary that would separate the woman who managed his bowel movements from the woman who managed his uncle’s political career. Arthur didn't just answer; he beamed. “She’s the Director of Operations, Leo. The architect of the entire machine. She’ll be handling the granular details, the logistical nightmare of the campaign, and all the grunt work I’m simply much too busy to be doing. I need to be out in the field, shaking hands and kissing babies, as I should be. This office is her kingdom now.” Then came the blow that left Leo breathless. Arthur leaned in, his voice dropping to a tone of casual authority. “Which is why you’ll primarily report to her. Every memo, every schedule, every single update you produce goes through Mrs. Gable. She is your direct supervisor. If you need something, you ask her. If you make a mistake, she’s the one who will correct it.” The world seemed to tilt. The clinical precision Mrs. Gable applied to his hygiene was now being expanded to his professional life. He wasn't just her patient at home; he was her subordinate at work. He looked at her, and for the first time, he noticed the subtle, triumphant curve of her lips. She wasn't just an employee; she had successfully infiltrated his only remaining sanctuary. “So will I spend any time with you?” Leo asked, the question escaping him before he could filter it through the lens of his current terror. He looked at Arthur, desperate for a shred of familial mentorship, a sanctuary away from the woman currently cataloging his failures with a single glance. Arthur chuckled, a hearty, dismissive sound that echoed through the mahogany cavern of the office. He patted Leo’s shoulder with a force that nearly knocked him off balance, sending a jolt of awareness through the heavy padding of his trousers. “A little, aye,” Arthur conceded, his voice booming with a casualness that ignored Leo's internal crisis. “But you need to walk before you can run, Leo. You’re a novice in this world. You need to be molded, shaped by the discipline of the office. " Arthur stepped back, his expression shifting to one of professional detachment. “Mrs. Gable will teach you the pace of the machine. She’ll show you how to anticipate my needs before I even voice them. By the time you’re reporting directly to me, you’ll be a polished instrument of this campaign. Until then, you are hers.” With a final, decisive nod, Arthur turned and strode toward his inner sanctum, the heavy oak door swinging shut with a thud that sounded remarkably like a prison cell locking. The silence that followed was absolute, save for the distant, rhythmic clicking of the other aides' keyboards. Leo stood frozen, the air in the room suddenly feeling thin and clinical. He didn't dare move, afraid that any shift in his posture would betray the absorbent bulk of his garments or the fragility of his composure. “I’m off!” Arthur’s voice boomed from the doorway of his inner sanctum, the sound acting as a final, celebratory trumpet blast to the execution of Leo’s autonomy. He didn’t look back as he gathered his briefcase, his momentum carrying him toward the exit with the breezy confidence of a man who had just delegated a burden rather than a human being. The heavy thud of the outer office door closing behind him left a vacuum of silence, a sudden atmospheric shift that felt as though the oxygen had been sucked out of the room. In that silence, the only remaining sound was the soft, rhythmic clicking of Mrs. Gable’s nails against the mahogany surface of her desk. She didn't speak immediately; she simply watched Leo, her gaze drifting from his anxious eyes down to the grey fabric of his trousers, lingering on the subtle, rounded silhouette of his rear. The look was purely diagnostic, the way a mechanic might eye a faulty engine, assessing the current level of saturation and the stability of the padding. “Come here, Leo. Sit,” she commanded, her voice returning to that low, humming frequency that signaled the transition from professional colleague to absolute manager. She didn’t point to a guest chair; she pointed to a narrow, backless stool positioned precisely beside her desk, an arrangement that left his backside completely exposed to her line of sight. As he sat, the heavy padding of his trousers pressed firmly against the hard seat, and he felt the immediate, suffocating proximity of her presence. Mrs. Gable didn't hand him a folder or a briefing; instead, she pivoted a computer monitor toward him with a sharp, metallic click. On the screen was a vast, sterile grid of an Excel spreadsheet—thousands of empty cells waiting to be filled with the tedious minutiae of the campaign’s donor lists. “Now, let’s optimize your workspace,” Mrs. Gable murmured. Without breaking eye contact, she gripped the edge of a secondary, smaller desk and slid it with a heavy, grinding thud directly in front of her own. The movement was surgical, eliminating every inch of buffer between them.  She leaned back, her gaze dropping with clinical deliberation to the expansive grey fabric of his seat. “I’ll be keeping a close eye on your work, Leo,” she whispered, her voice humming with a predatory sweetness. “And your rear.”

@DailyDi I can see where you allegiance is in supporting an advertiser on this site, but I think that some of the points you refer to in this post are incorrect and are propogating the missinformation of the adult diaper market. You state "For years, the incontinence category competed on one idea: thinner is better. "... but that is a disadvantage of a diaper sold as a gain where the gain is the cost to the consumer / care giver in increased count of changes and more disturbed sleep time of the user. The gain is to the supplier in selling more individual units and and increased profit margin. Similar has been sold with the 'cloth back' lie. Pull-ups were originally sold as a way to entice a baby / toddler to be 'more like mammy/daddy' and adapt to toilet training. Overnight wearing of pull-ups for a diaper dependent person is not an option to be considered. After all, who, while asleep, takes down undergarments to void. Therefore, the selling point you refer to in both customer reviews and company advertising where the garment is thick and absorbant enough to last with the required multiple night changes, the reason for an overnight product being pull-up is more and more mute. Now, we come to the demographic of those who would need a 3 wetting capable pullup during the day. Let's assume that the paitent floods - therefore requires a pullup capable of holding 1-1.5 wettings. The next step an adult takes is to go to a bathroom to change. After all, if they didn't flood, they would still need a bathroom at those time intervals, so why wear a pull-up that removes that requirement other than to train the paitent to get used to the bulk and size of a diaper, so they can easily be convinced to use, and therefore be dependant on diapers. Is that in the best interest of the paitent, or in the best interest of the supplier / maker? Therefore, the demographic gets smaller and smaller to be the group of ex long haul truck drivers or similar etc. who overexpanded their bladders to 2-3 times average capacity, who have a flooding issue. This key demographic is extremely small. We get back to common sence, where overnight, a full mat tape on diaper always offers better protection than a pull-up as one can get the diaper to fit better to the paitent. Daytime, a pull-up can be used, but when more protection capacity is needed due to voiding quantities at a time period, then one can chose a more absorbant product and/or shift to full mat diapers. Supplying and selling the extra high capacity pull-ups as one that does not need multiple changes is at a cost to the paitent and their skin care - and also inducing a level of laziness or lack of care of the relevant care taker. This, we seen in history were when high absorbant disposable baby diapers were first introduced, it also coincided with the increase in diaper rash and associated infection. Where it comes to a dependant adult, usually the frail and elderly, this increased infections can lead to death where the paitent has a 3-5% recovery reserve. In my humble opinion, the actual market for 3 wetting pull-ups are so small, that to produce said pull-up is insulting. Northshore, as a company, do supply decent functional adult diapers that suit some of the market for either daytime where the bulk can be disquised, and/or night time where the absorbancy enhances sleep time, and supply pull-ups for those people who prefer a pull-up daytime, but the 3 wetting pullup as a product being sold as a night time product is attempting to blur the probems assoiated with a pull-up / thicker non form fitting / loose underwear where in most, the underwear 'fall off' or work down the legs due to movement. This leads to a wet bed, wet underclothes, and a used, dry pull-up at ones feet in the bed and a disturbed nights sleep. Yes, there are some pull-ups that are marketed as bed wetter pants, but they are designed, and fitted to a childs frame, where physics work and the strength of the elastic is capable of holding the pull-up to the 600ml of urine a child is capable of producing. When it comes to adult levels of 400ml per voiding, where 3x400 is 1200ml, it is twice the weight of the 600ml child level, where the physics means that it exceeds the tensile capability of elastic unless the elastic is proportionally thicker. Secondly, the adult size range compared with the adult body frame differences, the ranges of the elastic and the pant has to contend with, means it physically exceeds the capability of the materials. As a test for those who wear underwear, since 1ml of urine weights approx. 1g, and 1200ml is slightly heaver that 1kg, place a 1kg bag of sugar (while still in its bag) in your underwear, and see if your underwear stays on, or does it slowly slip down your thighs. This problem is exagerated overnight where the pull-up is wet and expanded, where normal turning in bed will work it down the legs. A disposable adult diaper has 4 tapes as opposed to a baby diaper of 2 tapes. The 4 tapes allow the adult diaper to be form fitted around the adult frame, where the baby diaper 2 tapes does not need that. Nor does the baby diaper need the extra adheision due to pure physics. A baby voids 15ml at a time to a max of 500ml into its diaper before it is changed. This means that a baby diapers weight does not exceed approx. .5 kg, and therefore does not exceed the physics of the tensile strenght of the 2 tapes plus the elastic. In the same vein, a childs bed wetter pull-up at maximum capacity of 600-800ml although can run tight to the limits, does not exceed them. This is the simple reason why a baby diaper cannot be directly scaled up to adult proportions. Instead, the adult diaper is altered primarily based on physical limits of the fixings and the plastic backing. I doubt that the 'channels' as employed in current baby diapers will added to adult diapers. Northshore use a variation via the quilting of its padding plus multi-layer padding - the adult variation of the baby diaper channels concept. Some parents of babies / toddlers have walked into their childs room to find the diaper / pull-up they placed on their child the night before, lying somewhere in the bed and maybe the child, plus everything else coated in a brown smelly substance as their smart child has found a new toy! Apart from the stress and sterilising, that parent, the next evening, is using super glue and/or nails (more like sticky tape) to ensure that their child does not 'loose'; their overnight diaper ever again. When this, or similar, occurs with a dependant adult, the care giver is placed under the same stress level, but in that case, the difference and complication is size of paitent!