Baby Talk

Part 37: THE NIGHTMARE WITHIN THE NIGHTMARE What is it like to carry a secret that no one can ever find out about? Many people know that feeling; they’ve been there. But what is it like when you are actually "wearing" that secret? Like, when you literally have it on? The secret that Tom is a bedwetter weighs heavily on him. Having to sleep in diaper pants is an even more "dangerous" secret. Slipping back into the bedroom right now, wearing these diaper pants like a baby, and walking right into the middle of the other kids—the full weight of it is almost too much for him to grasp. It feels surreal. A nightmare within a nightmare. If he gets caught, both secrets are out. For a bedwetter, an entire night looms ahead in a situation like this. The fact that others in the room are facing the same thing only offers surface-level comfort. Any one of them, lying there anxiously in bed, could make a mistake—a careless word, a rustle, a wet diaper. The danger is always there that it could blow everyone's cover, because the others would recognize the pattern in themselves. No one can imagine the kind of pressure Tom is under as he walks through that door right now. With this added burden, expecting him not to "fail" would be an impossible feat.       Why me?   Mike’s mother stopped in front of the door to the room I had left just ten minutes ago. I took those last few steps behind her, wearing a thick diaper. Mrs. Winter stood there completely calm, waiting for me with an indulgent smile. In that moment, the rustling of my padding was loud and clear. I could easily picture how ridiculous my Superman pajamas must look to 17-year-old Karin, who was walking in right behind me. A thick baby butt and a heavily padded crotch—and here was "Superman" being led to his bed... Now I really was a toddler. The strange thing was, at that exact same moment, I knew it was the better solution. I mean, the decision to put me in a diaper. Because it was pretty obvious that I was going to wet myself tonight, too. Through the door, you could hear the noise inside the room starting up again. Mrs. Winter stood with her hand on the doorknob, waiting for us. I pressed myself right behind her. I didn’t want anyone to see me as I slipped inside. Behind me, Karin placed a reassuring hand on my shoulder. The door opened. Mike’s mother stepped inside, and the light cut through the crack of the door, revealing a scene that made me freeze for a second. But right then, I felt Karin’s hand on my diapered bottom, quickly pushing me inside and toward my bed, which was right next to the door. Now I also understood why I hadn’t been given a mattress right in the middle of the room like the other kids. She held the blanket up, and I slipped under it. At that exact moment, Mrs. Winter raised her voice, drawing attention away from us. A nod from Karin signaled to her that "Superman was in position." Mrs. Winter turned on the lights. Paul had apparently pulled his waterproof pad out from under the sheet and was hitting Mike with it, laughing out loud. Mike had pulled his protective mat out too, and Ashley had gotten up and was inspecting her mattress, where an identical mat was placed underneath. Only Pia was lying stiffly on her back, the blanket pulled all the way up to her nose, gripping it tight with both hands. "All right, boys, what is going on here?" Ashley jumped into her bed and pulled the covers over herself. Paul and Mike froze mid-motion. "What do you think you're doing?!" Mike’s mother scolded. Paul was the first to find his words. "I don’t need a stupid bedwetter mat," he justified himself, looking offended. At the same time, he let it drop onto the bed. "That may be, Paul, but I’ve had a few unpleasant surprises after parties like this. So slide your mat back under the sheet, and then it’s time for bed." Paul was sulking, but he obeyed, muttering a few comments under his breath. Mike stood around looking a bit embarrassed. "You especially, Michael," his mother warned him, too. "Put that mat back where it belongs!" Both boys were now busy getting to work. Karin walked over to Pia. "Everything okay, sweetie?" Pia nodded shyly. "Here, this belongs to you." She discreetly slid the pink underwear under the blanket. Pia blushed. "Alright Paul, Michael—into bed. I’m turning off the lights now, but I’ll check in on you again later. I want you to stay in bed. Lights out, and sleep tight." "Good night, Mrs. Winter. Good night, Karin," Paul whispered back. One by one, the rest of us murmured a "Good night..." The lights went out. Quiet giggling could be heard from Mike and Paul. Ashley joined in, too. I lay silently on my back. More than anything, I wanted to be invisible right now. With every breath I took, I imagined I could hear the rustling of the diaper. "Can the others hear it too?" was my biggest fear. Instinctively, my hands found their way to the thick bulge under my pajama pants. "I’m the diaper baby here now." Despair washed over me. "Why me?" I rolled onto my side. A quiet rustle cut through the air. "I am not wetting myself tonight," I firmly resolved. Even if I managed to hide a wet diaper from everyone tomorrow morning, I wouldn't be able to look Karin in the eye ever again if I...   "...I just can't fall asleep," I resolved. Moving carefully so nothing would rustle, I tossed and turned from one side to the other. I kept my legs slightly apart, feeling my thick baby butt. Slowly, the conversations between Paul, Mike, and Ashley died down. Pia was already asleep, and soon the steady breathing of the others could be heard as well. Through the door came the familiar sounds of clattering dishes—probably being put away—and laughter. Karin’s bright voice, in particular, kept standing out. Meanwhile, I lay there with both hands on my diaper and my knees pulled up, feeling incredibly small and helpless.     quick, back to bed   It grew quiet outside. It had to be past midnight by now. I heard soft footsteps. The door opened. A brief flash of light cut into the room. The door closed again. Karin and her mother stood still for a moment in the moonlight filtering through the window, letting their eyes adjust to the darkness. Then Mrs. Winter walked through the room, knelt by Mike’s bed, reached under his blanket, and felt around the bed. "All dry," she whispered back toward the doorway to Karin. By then, Karin was kneeling next to my sofa. She lifted my blanket, too. Suddenly, I felt her hand on my pants. I froze, pretending to be asleep. She reached inside, pulled the training pants back a little, and used her other hand to squeeze and check the diaper in my crotch. "Tommy is dry, too," she whispered to her mother, who was standing by Pia. She gently let go of the terry cloth pants and pulled my pajama bottoms back up. "Same here. Everyone's being very good," her mother replied in a tiny whisper. "Let's hope it stays that way," Karin added as she adjusted my blanket. "Tommy is so ashamed, the poor thing..." she explained to her mother in a whisper. "I’ll check in again early in the morning..." Mike’s mother whispered, and with that, they both slipped quietly back out of the room. Slowly, I relaxed from my frozen state. We had just been checked on like babies. It wasn't that I didn't experience this at home. But at home, I’m asleep and wake up later. Experiencing it like this while fully awake was deeply humiliating. Lost in these thoughts, I must have fallen asleep for a little while. I woke up again when Mike came back into the room. The bright hallway light fell directly onto my face through the open door. His mother was also in the room, smoothing out his bed. As he stood next to her, she lovingly and reassuringly ran her hand through his hair. She lifted the blanket. "Alright, quick, back to bed. We'll talk tomorrow." She gave him a kiss, closed the window—which she had apparently opened wide—and quietly left the room. At dawn, with the room cast in twilight, I heard Pia talking softly. Then Karin whispered, "Everything's fine. Very, very good. I'm almost done. Shh!" I panicked. No! I felt my diaper, swollen and thick between my legs. I was so ashamed. And right then, Karin was already standing by my sofa. She knelt beside the bed and carefully pulled back the blanket. Before I knew it, I felt her hands on my pajamas. I still pretended to be fast asleep. Of course, she noticed right away what had happened and initially tried, unsuccessfully, to pull my pants down. Or at least slide them down far enough to reach my diaper. But that didn't work with me curled up like that. "Tom!" she whispered into my ear. "Tom!" She shook my shoulder gently. The shaking got stronger. I would have had to be dead not to feel that. Sounding half-asleep, I answered in a tiny voice, "Yeees?" "Thomas. I’m taking your diaper off. Unfortunately, it's wet. Please turn over and lift your bottom." Tears came to my eyes, and I sobbed. "Shh, it's okay. Let the others sleep. It’s no big deal. That’s what you’re wearing it for. Good! There's a good boy. A little more. Alright, now the training pants..." She had pulled both down to my knees. Rip, rip—she opened the tape tabs. She folded the diaper down from between my legs. I felt the cool air on my damp skin. "Bottom up again." She pulled the diaper out from under me. I lowered my hips, and she rolled up that "banner of shame." She placed the rolled-up bundle on the floor next to her. Then she grabbed my plastic-lined terry cloth pants with both hands and pulled them up. Instinctively, I reacted and lifted my bottom again. As I did, I looked to the side. My eyes met Pia's, who was lying across from me on the other side of the room. Startled and embarrassed, we both quickly looked away. I sobbed one more time.     "Shh! Quiet! Everything is fine. I'm almost done. You're being very good." She picked up two fresh pads from the floor and lifted my pants once more. "We're putting these in 'just to be safe.' My mother is letting you guys sleep in today. We don't want any more accidents." Again, I sobbed quietly. She stroked my hair. "It's alright. I promise I’ll take them out before everyone wakes up. Now go back to sleep." She pulled my Superman pajama pants over the now much thinner diaper pants and tucked me in.   "Did Pia hear all of that?" I thought to myself. I hoped not. Karin had been very quiet, only whispering, but it still wasn't out of the question. Karin reached down to the floor one more time. There was a rustling sound. As she stood up, I saw that she was taking my rolled-up wet diaper and a second, open, seemingly dry one outside with her. It was already broad daylight when I heard Mike’s mother. "Wake up, sleepyheads! It's already 9 o'clock. Breakfast is waiting for you," she said, clapping her hands. "Wake up!" Slowly, our group started to move. Ashley was the first to pop out from under her blanket, while I was just waking up. The night felt like a nightmare in my memory. It quickly hit me that I was no longer wearing the thick diaper pants Karin had put me in before bed. For a brief second, a wave of hope washed over me that it had all just been a bad dream. A quick check of my pajamas confirmed it: I didn't have the two pads in my pants anymore, either. So maybe it really had just been a bad dream. But the pajamas still felt different. And I knew why right away. It was the thick underpants—the padded "training pants" toddlers usually wear when they’re learning to use the potty. Reaching into my pajama pants gave me absolute certainty. Of course I still had them on. Protective plastic on the outside. Several layers of terry cloth on the inside. I reached in. They were dry. Thank goodness! Ashley yelled, "Come on! First one to breakfast gets..." Barefoot, she dashed through the open door, making Mike's mother laugh. Paul was already running right behind her. As he did, he ripped my blanket to the side. "Come on, let's go! We have to catch up to them." I lay there stiffly. "Can you see anything?" was my first thought. Pia glanced over for a second. She stood there hesitantly in her baggy nightgown. Her eyes lingered on my "Superman pants" for a brief moment, but she quickly looked away shyly. Lying on the bed was her pink underwear from yesterday. I think she was just about to slip it on under her nightgown. But right then, Mike was already standing next to her and gave her a firm swat on her bottom. It made a dull thudding sound. Maybe because of the loose nightgown? I didn't know. "Come on! Otherwise, they’re gonna eat everything. There's still cake left." He grabbed her hand and pulled her along behind him. I was already sitting on the edge of the sofa, keeping my legs pressed tightly together. It felt like you could barely see anything. As he ran past, he grabbed my hand, too. "Come on, you too." Just like Pia's, my regular underwear—the pair Karin had tucked away for me yesterday—was left behind on the bed... As we followed Mike down the hallway toward the dining room, I noticed he was wearing light blue pajamas. "Wasn't it dark blue last night?" I thought. Mrs. Winter followed behind me. I could swear I felt her eyes on my backside. Desperately, I tried to figure out again if anyone could notice "something." I imagined I could hear a tiny, faint crinkling from the plastic on the training pants.   Breakfast We walked into the dining room. Ashley and Paul were already sitting down, cutting themselves huge slices of cake. Karin had already poured herself some coffee and greeted us. "Well, finally! Good morning. Did you all sleep well?" she asked, looking at each of us in turn. I turned bright red and looked away instantly when she smiled at me. Our answers were short and one-worded. I avoided making eye contact with Karin entirely. Pia took the first empty chair and quickly sat down. Mike ran fast around the table over to Paul, sitting down right between him and Ashley. No one seemed to notice that he had changed his pajamas. Now, I was the only one left standing there. Ashley said in a teasing tone, "Morning, Superman! Look who's finally awake. Do you always sleep with two pairs of underwear under your suit?" Everyone laughed. I turned beet red. Yes, my special training pants were showing through. I desperately hoped nobody guessed what I was actually wearing under my pajamas. Quickly and without thinking much, I sat down on the closest empty chair. That put me right across from Karin. "Would you like some hot cocoa?" she began, starting a conversation with me. She was already pouring it. I nodded, and when our eyes met again, she smiled at me, acting as if nothing at all had happened last night... Mrs. Winter had cut me a slice of cake and handed it to me across the table. "Here you go, Tommy, this is for you." I had to stand up and lean forward to reach it. Pia, who was sitting next to me, turned her head, and I saw her gaze linger questioningly on my pants again. I quickly sat back down, my face burning up. As I did, I thought I heard the plastic in my training pants. Karin had noticed my embarrassed behavior and looked at me with a questioning expression.   "Oh Tom, that reminds me—your mother mentioned she might pick you up early. She said you should be ready. Don't you think it’s better to go change right now?" I felt a wave of relief at this "rescue attempt," even though it meant I had to stand up in front of everyone all over again. Karin stood up with me. "Come on, let's go gather your things." I was a bit confused when she guided me toward Mike’s room. I was just about to say something when it hit me that she probably wanted to make my "special pants" disappear. She closed the door behind us. "There, you'll be back in your own clothes in no time," she said, laying out my t-shirt, pants, and socks. I took off my pajama top. When it came to the bottoms, I hesitated. If I pulled them down, I’d be standing in front of Karin in nothing but those training pants again. Luckily, she walked over to one of the closets and seemed to be looking for something. I seized the opportunity, quickly pulled down my Superman pants, and was just about to get rid of those stupid terry cloth underpants with the telltale plastic crotch. That was when I realized my regular underwear wasn't anywhere near the clothes Karin had just set out for me. I stood there frozen in indecision, my thumbs hooked into the waistband of the white underpants. Karin had apparently found what she was looking for and walked back over to me. I flushed hot with shame. I scrambled to grab my corduroy pants off the bed, holding them up in front of me to shield the "baby pants." Karin placed something on the bed next to me. "What's wrong, Tom? You're still just standing around," she laughed, picking up my t-shirt and holding it open so I could slip into it. Embarrassed, I had to let go of my protective pants and drop them back onto the bed. I just wanted this to be over as fast as possible. She pulled the shirt over my arms, which I had raised straight up. I could easily picture what I looked like at that moment. Naked except for a thick, white, "special" pair of underpants featuring a milky-yellow plastic panel right over the crotch, obediently holding my arms up over my head. Exactly like a three-year-old being dressed for preschool in the morning. "By the way, your mother coming early was just a little white lie," she whispered conspiratorially, pulling the shirt down to the waistband of my underpants. "...It might actually take a bit longer. That way you can still play with the others for a while." Now she really sounded like she was talking to a toddler. She grabbed the waistband of the terry cloth pants and carefully pulled them back up over my hips. "We're going to leave these pants on. You can take them home with you," she informed me "carefully." "I'd rather put my own underwear on," I tried to counter, aiming for a confident tone. The only problem was, I couldn't find them anywhere. "Tom, these are underwear. Just step into your pants, put on your socks, and we can head back to the others." That was the breaking point for me. "No, I don't want these stupid pants. I don’t need them." "Tom, your mother just bought two pairs of these exact pants from our shop. She told us that sometimes, when you get really distracted, you have accidents during the day, too. I think it’s much better if we leave them on." I was completely caught off guard. I had no idea how to respond. "Besides, my mother already talked it over with yours," she added, her tone growing a bit more firm. She reached down to the bed and picked up one of the pads she had just set there earlier. "Look, we'll put these in, and then nothing can go wrong." Her voice returned to being kind and understanding. As she spoke, she pulled the front of the terry cloth pants wide open, tucked the pad inside, and pulled them back up. Before I could even utter a word, I felt her hand at the back of the wide elastic waistband. She slipped a thin paper diaper pad in there, too. In the next second, she was holding my corduroy pants out in front of me. "Here, step in quick." Powerless to fight back any longer, I did exactly what she expected. I just didn't want to stand around looking so naked anymore. She glanced at me briefly, adjusting the waistband of my pants. "See? You can’t see a thing. Much better than before with those thin pajamas, right? Pull your socks on quick, and let's go join the others. I'll put your regular underpants in your jacket pocket out in the hallway closet." They had been lying on the other side of the sofa, where Karin now picked them up. I sat on the bed and pulled my socks on. Karin stood beside me, smiling down at me. While she waited and watched me, she slowly and carefully folded my underwear. Her movements carried an unspoken message: You won't be needing these anymore... I felt exactly like a preschooler wearing his "just in case" training pants under his clothes because "the boy can't quite be trusted yet..." Karin took my hand and led me out of the room. She let go of my hand right outside the dining room and headed toward the hallway closet with my regular underwear—the pair I no longer needed. Before she walked off, she gave my bottom a gentle nudge to push me into the room with the other kids, where I had been standing hesitantly. Moments later, I found myself awkwardly sitting back down at the breakfast table. Mrs. Winter smiled at me. It was a gentle, indulgent smile. It seemed to say, "See? It's really not that bad. You're such a good boy. You'll feel much safer now that your pants won't get wet." Her eyes scanned my waistband. She seemed satisfied. I scrambled onto my chair next to Pia. She glanced at me. "Got everything securely packed away?" I stared at her, completely horrified. "You know, your overnight things. Did you guys find everything? Do you have all your stuff with you again?"   I wondered when this nightmare would finally be over for me...   Karin had made her way back to us by then. "Pia, sweetie, don't you want to go change, too? At the very least, we should gather your things. Where is your bag anyway? We still need to pack a few items into it."   She whispered to me as she walked out with Pia. "If you need to use the bathroom, let me know and I'll help you get dressed. And please tell me if you’re wet, too."

I love to wear diapers for more than 30 years now, not 24/7, but regularly. I prefer plastic-backed diapers, but sometimes, especially during the summer, I use cloth-backed diapers as well. Always with plastic pants, I prefer plastic pants button style, usally yellow. I got interested in diapers at the age of 12, in those days I managed to buy Mölny-Schwedenwindeln. I remember, as a baby I was put in Mölny-Schwedenhöschen plastic pants.  My first adult-diapers were Molicare Super Plus and Attends 10. Nowadays my prefered diapers are Critter Caboose, Omutsu Purrfection, Lunar Cub, Kiddo Xtreme, Crinklz, Bambino Red Bearon, Northschore MEGAMAX Pink, Tykables Waddler, Honey Tales and other thick and high absorbent diapers. I love really wet diapers. Sometimes, but not regularly I also mess them. I am married, my wife is not in diapers, but likes it, to put me in diapers. Sometimes we have some diaper punishment games. I also like diaper femdom. I am a DL, but like to be treated as an adultbaby as well. I am a member of SPANDI and WB Community. I live in the northern part of Germany, Spain and sometimes in France. There is nothing better than a thick and wet diaper and a plastic pant!

To try and get my creative juices flowing again, I've started writing a new story while travelling around the UK. I've written about a chapter every day so far this month, as well as getting in a fair amount of writing on The Littlest Spy.   The Little Girls Who Couldn’t Say No Meeting 0 - Gooseplumpton Station, Bebbingshire 0.1 - The Platform The chime of train doors opening can easily give the feeling of a story ready to start. Less so when it isn’t a new town, but that little ping always leaves a feeling of mystery that can hang in the air for a moment. Especially after a longer ride, with the scenery outside slowly transforming from quiet streets to a still vista of mist-shrouded cabbage fields. It’s like a transition, and the moment the air conditioned hum of the carriage changes to the chill mystery of a rural station platform always gives the feeling that a mystery is about to be revealed. Some places along the line could have been bustling with travellers. Half an hour before, for example, Guilderton station shared a pedestrianised town centre with a Copper Kettle, a kebab shop run by three brothers with impenetrable local accents, a museum, and even a Pizza Shack. The town had two hotels, and the district would have been bustling if it hadn’t been so early on a chill autumnal morning. In the other direction, two more stops would lead to Royston Airport. The gateway to the continent, which probably explained why half of the passengers on the train had stowed suitcases in garish colours on the seats beside them once the luggage racks were full to overflowing. Many of those people took the arrival at Gooseplumpton-on-the-water as a sign that they should make sure all their bags were easily reachable. They didn’t worry about getting in the way of anyone disembarking before the airport, because there was no reason anybody would want to stop here. It was one of those rural stops that only existed to mark time, or because the cartographers put some arbitrary limit on how many acres of farmland could stretch out before there needed to be words on the map. There was no reason to get off the train here. Nothing to see and almost nobody to visit. The station sign was faded by a sun not currently in evidence, and seemed to tell the world that the only people alighting here would be a handful of residents on their way back from somewhere more exciting. But the button had been pressed, and the doors were sliding open. That probably wasn’t a common occurrence, but if any of the other passengers noticed, they didn’t say anything. They were too busy thinking about their own destinations. This was the kind of place everybody forgot; where the young were desperate to get away and the only people moving in were retiring to the opposite of a bustling city life. But in a way, the worn concrete platform was a perfect welcome for someone indulging a secret pastime that they didn’t want anyone else to know about. Coming to a specialist venue in such a quiet village meant there was no chance of another passenger on the platform to guess where you might be going; and the mists which crept up at the tail end of the year could give a sense of secrecy and security to a visitor prone to overestimating other people’s interest in their affairs. A half-empty village was the perfect venue for the type of business that knew their clientele very well, and could greet every nervous guest in the rough gravel parking lot without another soul in sight. Two figures stepped out onto the platform at the same moment, from doors at opposite ends of the carriage. Neither seemed to notice until they had checked their possessions to ensure nothing had been left on the train; but as the diesel-electric motors whined into life and set the steel box rattling away again, each turned their head towards the other and couldn’t look away for a moment. It would have been easy to panic. Coming to a facility that was kept far from civilisation precisely to let its more nervous visitors feel unseen, and being observed by a stranger, could be a nerve-wracking experience. It was too easy to wonder if the other person was waiting to ambush you somehow. Of course, it was probably just someone who lived in the village, but the event seemed more intimidating just because it had never happened on any previous trip. Both figures walked towards the north end of the platform, where rough concrete steps led down to a gravel patch where they could see nothing but a sea of mist. It was thick, and made the platform feel colder than it really was, but it wasn’t thick enough to conceal a car. Two figures sighed as if they had rehearsed the chorus, and trudged back to the single bench that sat in the middle of the platform, sandwiched between a ticket machine and a trashcan. They sat on opposite ends of the bench, thankfully neither seeming eager to discuss what business might bring a lone outsider to this island of solitude. A minute passed, the seconds seeming to stretch out for eternity. Even checking a watch felt like it might arouse suspicion here. “I’m Penny,” one figure spoke, cutting through the silence in a way that somehow made it more oppressive. “A friend was supposed to pick me up.” Her voice vanished into the mist. Penny was young, maybe a college student, and practically vibrating with energy as she shifted from one foot to the other. Her shoes caught the light as she bounced; they seemed to be some kind of flexible jelly thing which might have been fashionable now, covered in sequins. They were like the kind of thing a child might wear, which meant they matched the aesthetic of long, black hair tied in two narrow braids over each shoulder, and held in place with a forest of clips and plastic flowers. However, the whole outfit was black, including  a skirt that looked short enough to be the example of what wasn’t allowed on any school uniform pamphlet, tightly hugging her hips, and a top that looked almost like a PVC corset. She had the kind of figure that anyone on the train would surely have noticed, if they weren’t fully focused on their own business. “Maybe he’s stuck in traffic,” the other stranger suggested. Then he turned his head to the other end of the platform, where barriers were raised to let a complete absence of vehicles cross the single track railway. Although the fog masked everything at ground level, he could see all the way to a cluster of four or five stone buildings, which probably constituted the town centre. In the other direction there was a former blacksmith with an anvil outside pressed into service as a bench, and a sign declaring a single room to be the village store, grocer, post office, and tearoom. Feeling the need to say something more, or perhaps to draw attention away from a comment that immediately felt like an embarrassing blunder, he continued: “I’ve never seen anyone else get off the train before.” “It’s not hard,” Penny answered with a giggle. “I’ve done it dozens of times.” “I meant here,” he answered, but he couldn’t stifle a flash of a grin at the joke. “Hard to imagine why somebody would come here, if not coming home. Visiting friends, I guess? But our friends aren’t here.” He paused a little, and then realised that their introduction had been one-sided. “Lars,” he said, and then hesitated, old nerves coming back. “Is me. Lars Enfield. I mean… I’m Lars. Hi, pleased to meet you.” Lars wasn’t dressed as fashionably as Penny. He looked like a businessman on a casual day,  as if there would ever be an excuse to wear a sharp suit in the middle of nowhere like this. He looked smart and in control, in sharp contrast to his fumbled introduction. His hair was carefully combed back, with just the faintest hint of grey at the temples, but he wore the years like a medal more than a burden. His skin didn’t have the vitality of youth anymore, but that hadn’t stopped Penny catching a glimpse of him on the train, and fantasising that he could sweep her off her feet and drag her along on whichever plane he was catching. The quiet confidence and that jawline could have been enough to capture the interest of any girl he was interested in. She probably would have found an excuse to talk on the train, if she hadn’t already had such big plans for the day. But now she was consumed by curiosity about what this business traveller would be doing in a middle-of-nowhere village like this. “Nice to meet you too Lars,” she said, and offered a hand to shake. “And you’re right, I didn’t expect to run into anybody new today. Is that a Dutch name? You don’t look Dutch, or sound like it.” “I don’t think it’s Dutch,” he said, and then paused to reconsider. “Maybe it is, I don’t know. Could be German or Danish. But they tell me I was named after a musician, my Dad was a huge fan. Same for my brother, Cliff, but more people guess right when they’re talking to him.” “Oh, it must be interesting to know where your name came from. Are you into music, then? Share your Dad’s tastes?” “Not really. I’ll listen to whatever’s on, but I hardly know the names behind the voices.” “Same,” she answered with a shrug. “Piity, really. Music would give us something noncontroversial to talk about. Politics is too risky these days, and nothing on TV caught my interest lately. Just to chat while we wait for our friends, I mean. Maybe I should give her a call, see what’s up? I don’t think she normally leaves you waiting at the station, she was already here when the train arrived last time I was in town.” She stood up and took a few steps to the end of the platform, where she might not be so easily overheard. Then she tapped her phone screen a couple of times with growing impatience, and raised it to her ear. The disappointment creeping over her face was a clear message as she tried again. Lars could guess the problem easily enough; he’d probably been here more times than she had if she was surprised. As she walked back towards the bench, his eyes flicked briefly towards the phone still in her hand. There was a red banner across the top of the screen with exactly the message he had expected. “No signal here,” he said with a shrug. But he wanted to help her as well, so he raised one hand and jerked a thumb in direction of the village store. “If we go–” He’d been meaning to tell her that he thought there was more chance of getting through by standing just a hundred metres away. A few times in the past he’d had better luck over there, checking the Internet to see when the next train back to Guilderton would be. And it was easy to assume that the ability to make calls would be better over there as well. But his voice faded to nothing when his brain caught up with what his eyes had just seen. He hadn’t meant to pry; looking at the phone in her hand had been an automatic response, confirming that she was having the problem he suspected. He certainly hadn’t intended to see the name of the person she was calling. And in his surprise, after a brief moment of tongue-tied silence, the words tumbled out of his mouth without any conscious decision. “Nanny Esme?” Penny stepped back like she’d been stung. Lars wasn’t surprised; his own response would have been almost the same if the roles were reversed. “You can’t–” she stammered, the carefree, flirtatious demeanour shattering in an instant. She sounded terrified for a syllable, until the register shifted to anger. “Eavesdropping? It’s none of your business what I…” “Sorry,” he said. “I really am, I didn’t mean to look. It just jumped out at me. You’re meeting her today? You’re going to the daycare, but how…? I mean, I thought it was one person at a time, like she’d have a whole say for… I mean… I’m sorry, I’ve never seen anybody else there, and I thought… Am I early, or is there something…?” His voice trailed off into silence, as he tried to work out what else he could say, and how he could apologise.     Please let me know if you'd like to see more of this! And how you expect it to go; maybe you can give me some alternate ideas. Thank you! And if you're in the UK, let me know if you'd like to sit in a coffee shop somewhere along my travels and keep me motivated to write 😛 I'm going to be in Burton-on-Trent later today, but no idea where I'm going after that.

Oh there you go again. I am not going to continue this discussion, but please stop pretending to be an expert in this area. Leave that to people who actually studied it. Just reading your combined writings in this thread tells me immediately that you are not, which is fine. I am not an urologist either. Just dont pretend to be and give other people "lessons" in things you dont really know. You were telling me to get an "internal sphincterotomy" which is not a term you will find anywhere but in the anal surgery afaik. Now you attempt to rewrite what you wrote. Ask any real urologist to read your posts and mine, and judge if you should give lessons to others. I am done.

My morning pink Sunkiss diaper is very wet with a modest poopie getting compressed and squishy sitting here as I sip hot coffee. 🤗🫠🤫