Baby Talk

TOY STORY By Hal. Melissa looked up from her desk at the sound of the diffident knock on her office door. "Ms. Duncan," said a burly man from the plant floor, "we have the doll mock-up just outside. May we bring it in?..." Melissa looked up and adjusted her expensive designer glasses. She gave a curt nod and rose from her desk. She caught a glance of herself in the mirror on the wall. A petite young woman in an expensive business pant suit looked back at her. Her styled blond hair was pulled back from her face, and held up in a professional bun. She looked every inch the rising young executive. She frowned as the men brought the life sized mock-up of the "Brandy" doll into her office. Supposedly, this doll was the next big project for the company. Certainly, the board of directors had high hopes. It was all part of the "retro" phase the country was going through. "Back to the Fifties" was the popular slogan. Little girls were supposedly tired of playing with toy trucks and action figures and wanted their traditional dolls back. Or so said the polling data. To that end, the company had developed the doll and was now busily engaged in rolling out the new product. Melissa sighed. It had been a busy week. She looked at the doll with distaste. It was dressed in a frilly little girl outfit consisting of a ridiculously short pale blue dress that flared dramatically at the crotch, allowing a generous view of the plain white cotton panties. It also had white ankle socks and black patent mary jane shoes. This was so offensive, she thought. It re-enforced every negative stereotype about young girls. How could a young girl be expected to compete with a young boy when she had to be concerned about her underpants showing with every step?. It was a testament to Melissa's mind set that she never considered the possibility that perhaps young girls SHOULDN'T compete with boys. What really made her angry was the fact that the company was having a contest to recruit a child actor to appear with the doll in a planned series of commercials. At this very moment, the company reception hall was filled with hundreds of little girls ages 6 to 10 dressed like Shirley Temple. And all of them hoping to snag the contract and launch a show business career. She had seen them on her way up to the office this morning. Why, even her 10 year old cousin was there somewhere with her Aunt. Melissa had to grin. While she disapproved of the doll and the contest on the grounds that it was sexist, her little cousin was a brat. It would do her good to be humiliated by being forced to dress up like a little girl. She was looking forward to seeing young Suzy in her short dress and mary janes. But first things first, she thought. As an Assistant Product Manager, she had to do an inspection report before the doll could go down to the hall. The men set the doll down and then carried in a large box. Melissa could see that it contained the accessories for the product, including the make-up. She almost did a double take as she noticed that the box contained what could only be adult sized disposable diapers. That's right, she thought. There's going to be a baby version of this doll. She shuddered at the thought of being encased tightly in a disposable diaper. Melissa shook her head as if to clear it. What an odd thought, she told herself. As if SHE would ever wear a diaper again. Preposterous! As the men finished their task and left, Melissa walked over to her office door and locked it. She didn't want to be disturbed. She stopped halfway back to her desk and glanced at the mirror on the wall and took stock of herself. She looked young, but the conservative make-up, dark suit, and glasses gave her an air of quiet authority. Melissa stood there and silently reflected on the circumstances that had brought her to this juncture in her career-- one short step away from being a full Product Manager for a major, multi-national toy corporation. She had started hanging around at the plant at age eight, helping her father who was an executive with the company. At 10, she was running errands and helping to deliver the corporate mail. At 13, she started her first job, working after school in the accounting department. She had graduated high school early, and went on to finish college in the same manner. Obtaining her degree in business at 20, she had already been an intern for two years. Her first official position after college had been as a marketing assistant. By then, however, she had over 10 years experience working in the toy industry. That, combined with family connections, had allowed her to rise rapidly in the company hierarchy. She adjusted her expensive blazer. Her creme silk blouse peeked seductively out, and Melissa once again congratulated herself on her fashion sense. Being and looking young in the toy industry was not a handicap, she thought. However, she had to be taken seriously by the other executives. She was short, standing only 5'2" in her stocking feet. She weighed in at a trim 106 pounds. Her breasts were small, but her push-up bra made the most of this shortcoming. People were always describing her as "elvish" looking, with her small, delicate features giving her an innocent, child like quality. Expensive business suits, heels for height, a proper hairstyle, and stylish glasses for a more mature look had corrected these perceptions, and Melissa was smugly satisfied. From her tailored jacket to her pumps, from her push-up bra to her expensive pantyhose, she looked every inch the powerful young corporate executive. Turning away from the mirror, she looked at the doll. She frowned again at the ridiculous dress, the childish underpants. The little voice inside her head that served as her muse woke and said, What's the matter miss corporate executive, never seen how a proper little girl is dressed? Melissa looked at the doll again. It seemed as if it were the doll who spoke. She knew she was projecting, but these types of mental arguments sometimes helped her sort things out. They allowed her to make sound decisions, business and otherwise. Looking the doll in the eyes, holding silent discourse with herself, Melissa could swear she heard the doll answer her back. Yeah, sound business decisions. Whatever. It comes down to jealousy, doesn't it? Oh you can pat yourself on the back about your accomplishments, but YOU never had a dress like this. You never had the time for childhood. Always acting the little adult. Never played with dolls. Never had a carefree moment... That's not true!, Melissa silently told the doll. I didn't miss out on anything! I never had time for those stupid frilly little dresses and those childish tea parties. I never wanted to be some helpless little girl. I wanted to be in control, respected--and I've achieved that! On a whim, she slipped off her blazer and draped it over the back of her chair. Crossing the room to the mirror, she gazed with satisfaction at her trim form. She worked hard at staying in shape, and enjoyed flaunting her hard work. Which was why the pants of her suit were slighter tighter than what current fashions dictated. She placed her hands on her ass, feeling the expensive wool material stretched tauntly across her curves. As her hands traveled across the expanse of firm behind, she turned to one side to get a better view. She frowned as she noticed the lines of her underpants marring her smooth look. "Damn it!", she cursed out loud. Typical. That's what happens when a child gets into her mother's things and tries to wear them. HAH! The always fashionable Melissa has panty lines! Just a little girl walking around with her underwear showing, despite wearing a grown up pant suit! some things never change! Melissa ignored the inner voice. She hated panty lines! aside from being a major fashion faux pas, they indicated to the watching world the nature of her underwear. From these vital clues, any stranger might deduce the nature and type of her underpants. Along with seeing her pantyhosed ankles peeking out from under her pants, any geek might get a good mental picture of her most intimate apparel-- something that only she was supposed to know! Melissa bit her lip. It was her own fault for being so careless. Fashion dictated that she wear panties with less defined edges, or perhaps even a thong. However, she despised thongs, even more than pantylines. Too, she had another reason for wearing fuller cut panties. Her ass, while firm, was slightly flat and boyish. She therefore wore a shaping panty that "lifted and defined" her bottom to a more aesthetically pleasing shape. The effect was dramatic, and no one looking at the panties could ever tell they were a shaping garment. It was the same with her bra, which was slightly padded to make her breasts appear marginally fuller. While the underwear served its purpose, Melissa didn't like to be reminded that her slightly under- developed figure needed a little help. After all, current ideology stated that a young, modern women needed no enhancements-- that she was happy with the figure nature had given her. Of course, Melissa reflected, that view was for the talk shows and armchair psychologists. In private, the young modern women wanted every advantage she could get. Melissa frowned. No matter how she tried to rationalize it, she was still forced to wear "figure control" garments-- she would be humiliated if anyone found out! why, it would fall into the same class as wearing an ugly girdle under her sleek suits. Fat chance of that, said the doll. You need a girdle only if you have curves. You're flat chested and flat assed, and without your special underwear you have the figure of a little girl. Oh, they look like a regular bra and panty set, but we know different, don't we? "Oh, shut up", said Melissa aloud, slightly flushing. She frowned again at her pantylines. She would have do something about them. It wouldn't do to go running around with her underpants showing, even in so indirect a fashion. She glanced around and spied the package of disposable diapers. How horrible they looked. She tried to imagine what it would feel like to wear them-- how would she look with her ass in diapers? she was used to silk and satin next to her most private places. To be taped up in a paper and plastic diaper was almost inconceivable. Yet she was curious. To actually wear it was unthinkable, but might there be a way to experience it all the same? With a grin she kicked off her shoes and stood barefoot in stockings on the plush carpet. She opened the package. Unfolding a diaper, she sat her tight panted bottom down in the center and brought it up between her legs. She fastened one side and then the other. Trembling with excitement, she stood up and looked in the mirror to admire her handiwork. She was in diapers! Well, not really, she thought. She was wearing a diaper over her tight pants. She felt the snugness and pressure between her legs but her ass was still encased by her silken panties, pantyhose, and the expensive fine wool cashmere of her tailored pants. She turned sideways and looked at herself. The diaper was bulky, and her bottom looked huge with the additional padding. "No need for additional padding now," she said aloud. She placed both hands on her bottom, feeling the thick plastic shell. It was strange, Melissa thought. It almost felt like the diaper was molding itself to her ass, trying to get through the thin layers of adult material and grip her bare flesh in its hot and sticky plastic embrace. That's just what it should do, said the doll. Why don't you just get it over with and end your adult charade. Take of those silly, adult clothes that you have no business wearing. Look how ridiculous you are-- standing there in your grown up powersuit with a diaper taped on over your pants. Then again, even without the diaper, you still look ridiculous Typical Melissa. No sense of adventure or fun. Always doing both in half measures. You can't even try on a diaper without hedging your bets. Melissa frowned. What was she doing?. How could she be standing her wearing a diaper in her own office? She unfastened the tapes and threw the diaper off to the side. She stepped back into her pumps. She smoothed her slacks down, touching her taunt and now un-diapered ass once again. She was furious at herself. The inner voice was right. She was a little up-tight. On the heels of this thought came another, NO!-- I'm as bold as the next girl. I wouldn't want to be anyone or anywhere else. I have real power now. OH please! you saw those little girls today at the competition. They were having fun. They had no responsibilities, no pressures, no deadlines. Admit it, some part of you was jealous. So what?, Melissa told herself silently. I'm a busy executive. Sometimes the job gets on my nerves. It's only natural to want to blow of some steam. Sure, Sure. besides, YOU could never pull this look off. You wouldn't even know how to walk properly. You couldn't compete with those young girls, they're much too innocent and young. Besides, they're prettier. I could to compete with them! Melissa told herself. What was she thinking? She was 23 years old, an adult with a responsible position. She was once again secure in her in fashionable business clothes. So why would she even consider having to compete with little girls? That's right. You keep telling yourself that. You're too prim and proper, to uptight to give in to a little harmless fun. You wouldn't know fun and adventure if it walked up and bit you. Besides, you're not cute enough to wear a dress like this... "Alright then," said Melissa aloud to the silently mocking doll, "I'll show you whose cute and adventuresome enough!". She kicked off her high heels and stood barefoot in stockings in her office. Her face was flushed. Her breathing fast. She was furious at herself, yet sexually charged. She rarely gave in to her sexual appetites, but what could it harm? She was alone in her office. The department was shut down, and everyone was at the festivities. She was tense, overtired by working long hours. An hour or so of fun, topped of by a pleasant orgasm couldn't hurt. She stalked barefoot in pantyhose around her office. Her door was locked, and she knew the outer office which was her secretary's was also locked. Making her decision, Melissa looked triumphantly at the silent doll. With a tight smile, she undid her snug trousers and let them fall to the floor. The overhead lights danced off her coffee colored pantyhose legs. Stepping out of her pants, she glanced in the mirror. Her silk blouse was short, and her delicate, lacy white underpants peeked out from under the smooth pantyhose. She let her hands trail over her nyloned lower form, caressing her sleekly nyloned ass and thighs. Her hands wandered to her tightly encased center, and she shuddered in pleasure. Not so fast, she told herself. She undid her blouse and added it to the growing collection of clothing on the floor. Pretty grown up undies for a girl your age, don't you think? You'll get a spanking by mom if she catches you... Melissa started at the inner voice, and turned in her big girl underwear towards the silently mocking doll. I'm a grown-up, she told herself. I'm allowed to wear pantyhose and silken underpants. Not if I have anything to say about it, child. Enjoy playing grown-up while you can, little girl. I'm going to take away mommy's grown up underwear from you. Little girls don't wear pantyhose and push up bra's young miss. If you haven't got the equipment for the garments, perhaps you shouldn't wear them... Melissa ignored the voice, and went towards the box with the cosmetics. The "Brandy" doll had a simple, wash in/out hair color shampoo, and she felt the effect of her playing dress up would be enhanced with a different hair color. She frequently worked out in her office on the stairmaster in the corner, and it was not unknown for her to leave the office with damp hair from a shower. She grabbed a tube of the brown shampoo and headed towards her office bathroom, one of the perks of her executive status. She spent several minutes removing her jewelry and then removed her light make-up. In the overhead light starring in the bathroom mirror, Melissa saw that she looked much younger without her glasses and tasteful make-up. Too, she was reduced to running around in her underwear, and didn't have her executive pant suit to hide behind. Standing in her pantyhose and silken underpants, the push up bra wearing young executive undid her blond hair and shook it out. She was proud of her shoulder length locks, and took great pains to care for it. She took a breath and plunged her head into the sink, fully wetting her hair. She applied the shampoo and was soon rinsing it out. She towled dried her hair as best she could and looked at her handiwork. The color was not very impressive, she thought. It was a dull, medium brown. The shine was gone, and her hair appeared lifeless. Well, she thought, it washes right out. I can have my own beautiful hair back in minutes. She next tied her damp locks into two pigtails, and let the front part in the middle, giving her bangs. This simple change in hairstyle reduced her appearance by many years.

Just treat the Police like you want to be treated.  I grew up around Police.  A few family members were in the Police department.  My Dad helped out with the FOPA. I just learned to respect them. Don't do anything stupid and you won't have an issue with them. If you get pulled over for speeding,  be respectful and follow their directions.  Get your license, registration and insurance card out and then keep your hands on the wheel.  Remember,  they don't know you and don't know what they're walking into when they walk up to your car. If you're polite with them and cooperative with them,  they may just let you off with a warning.  State boys won't,  but locals may. Act like an ass and they'll write you up for everything they can

Just changed out of my wet ABU DinoRawrZ disposable diaper and put on my last Adventure Puffs disposable diaper with a Northshore booster in it.  Now I'm sitting here in my recliner in just my diaper and a glass of Jim Beam before going to bed. I really love these diapers.  Price was right,  good absorbency,  fit good and concealable. I wish they would come back.  I really like the print too.

@dlsafrica No I do not allow them to put fear in me. we the people are their boss.  If we allow them to put fear in us then we are not in a good place.  

Hi and welcome from the UK 😊