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    • What she didn't know, was even if she was 23 and saying this, Larry wouldn't turn her out to the cold.  He would have had a harder time though figuring out where to put her to sleep, but since she was a child, he figured she could take the bed while he took the sofa, that was in the same room.  She had no privacy, but if she was a child, that wouldn't matter to her as much as being out in the cold.  That's what he reasoned. "Well, baby, if your parents didn't abandon you, I don't know how it is the school could have sent you out on the street like that without at least making sure you had money to get the bus home.  I don't have bus money for you, baby, but I do have a warm bed.  I mean, if you are okay with that.  We'll have to share the room, but you can take the bed and I'll sleep on the sofa.  I'll just take the warmer blanket since the sofa will be cooler than the bed, and don't worry, we'll turn the heat up a little." He saw the tear run down her face. "Baby, they don't turn children out on the streets," he told her thinking that was a strange tell.  "Now, what happened?  Did you pee yourself at school and get scared and run away?" he asked her.  After all, she did wet herself out in public, and he could imagine a young girl being scared to ask during class, and then having an accident maybe getting scared because of it.  The thing is, though, he didn't know of any private boarding schools in town.  That was kind of strange, too. "Here's the thing," he patted her lap as she sat in his.  "I cannot in good conscience, leave you out on the street, so the way I see my choices, is you need to agree to just call me Uncle for a while and stay with me, or I'll have to turn you over to social services because whatever reason your parents can't come and get you, the streets are not safe for you, baby." He smiled into her teary eyes. "You don't have to decide before we get you something to eat at least," Larry told her.  "I don't want you running away or deciding on an empty stomach.  That's not fair." He lifted her under her arms and put her on her feet and then went to get her coat, but it smelled from her wearing dirty clothes for so long and having peed her pants, maybe more than once.  "This coat needs washed, too," he told her.  "So, I don't think we are going anywhere to eat.  The best thing we can do, is order delivery.  Do you have anything you'd like?" He smiled. "Once we place the order over the phone, we can gather your dirty things together, and then figure out what to do after that.  I also hope you don't decide to leave without your phone charged, so you can call for help at least if you need it.  If you can't stay with me until Friday, at least tomorrow, we can see about going to get something that we can charge your phone with." Larry shook his head.  What could he do with a displaced 13 year old child that should be in school on Monday?  He didn't have anyone in town that he could leave her with yet.  But he was new to town.  Would the school district he was interviewing for believe she was his adopted daughter and let her attend school?  He'd have to think about that later on, but he was sure he'd have to ask by Tuesday because he couldn't leave a child home alone all day while he was at work.
    • She grinds her teeth trying to devise an answer that doesn't get her sent back to the streets, reasoning that the only reason he'd been so kind is because he thought she was a child. she timidly walks over and sits on his lap and looks in his eyes and notices they aren't blue any more they seem more like this welcoming brown in the light. she looks down she figured shed be honest but keep it vague. she looks down to her lap and bites her nails again. welcoming the hug she puts her hand down again. She stutters over her sentences, "no theres no one to call. i was here for col.... school(she corrects herself) but i just couldn't keep up and had to leave. My parents can't help since i'm so far away. I tried to get help. but they didn't have anything for me except telling me to make sure i got in line for the shelter early if i wanted to get a bed. I was fine for the first few days. But i guess because it was colder these last 3 days people lined up earlier. and the beds were full before i could get in. so i've just been roaming for 3 days." tears swell up in her eyes again but shes unable to hold them back and they flow down her face like rain
    • This week however has been insightful not through my own adventures but rather the adventures of somebody else.   I know quite a few people in this place have been quite absorbed by what might be the ABDL equivalent of a moon landing:  @Reddy, taking himself off to Guadalajara, Mexico having organised meticulously (and at considerable expense) surgery to make him permanently, totally and irreversibly urinary incontinent.  Compulsory nappies for the rest of his life: end of discussion. I realise that the “moon landing” metaphor breaks down under examination insofar as he isn’t the first “on the moon” so to speak but he’s probably the first who has televised the voyage (ok, it was a blog and not grainy black and white TV but metaphors aren’t perfect). I’m not interested in reigniting debate around his decision.  It’s done now and for the record, whilst I had some misgivings about him “buying before trying”, my principle of bodily autonomy trumps my own reservations and I support his right to make his decision 100%.  I sincerely hope it is everything he hopes it will be for him. I’m also not intending to paraphrase or editorialise his journey here: this is his story, not mine. Instead, I’ll address the question I’ve been asking myself: “Would I do it?” No, but it’s a curiously reluctant no.  I’m not afraid of elective surgery.  I’ve worn that t-shirt.  Admittedly, the alternative to my “elective” surgery was an earlier-than-I-would-prefer death as opposed to dry underwear but my elective was still a complex procedure with a significantly greater-than-zero risk of what we’ll call, the “ultimate complication” and I took it for mid to long term lifestyle gain. I wouldn’t take the incontinence body hack not because of the risk to me but because of the risk to others.  For a start, it would seal the coffin lid on my beloved’s hope that one day I will come to my senses, head off to K-Mart and buy myself half a dozen pairs of boxer shorts.  I’m entirely aware that this isn’t a rational position for her to take after this long but let’s face it, neither is it rational for me to be choosing to pee in my pants for this long.  I still just don’t want to hurt her any more than I already have and I certainly don’t want to break the relationship. Secondly, there is the fiscal consideration.  I could afford it.  It would hurt but I could.  But does that entitle me to spend that kind of money?  In a kind of pre-retirement, fiscally treading water, earning-just-enough-to-stay-out-of-savings mode I could never replenish such a depletion of capital.  Whilst it was I that earned that capital, the unspoken pact is that it was for both of us for our retirement.   It’s only partly “my” money.  It’s bad enough that I will be dripping it away on nappies.  Fire-hosing a tanker-load of it on a highly unusual (and not entirely risk-free) Mexican vacation strikes me as being simply morally unacceptable in my circumstance (Reddy’s is very different). Then there would be the question of what if something went wrong, all the way over in Mexico?  I know for a fact that she would immolate our life savings in an instant to medivac me across the whole planet and how could I then live with myself? I doubt that the actual incontinence would pose any logistical issues or social prices I’m not already paying.  I haven’t been using urinary continence for around 5 years now so it’s not as though I don’t know what I’d be getting myself into. But for me, no.  So I guess his story just remains a fascinating glimpse into what would otherwise remain as a secret world.  But watching this adventure close-up, in slow-motion and analysing my own thoughts as I do is adding to the uncomfortable constellation of data points suggesting that I actually DO want incontinence, even if I started out thinking that I did NOT.  Perhaps my current position, that I could use incontinence as a tool to take my nappy use off the behavioural negotiating table by baking it in to my physiology, is just another layer of me attempting to rationalise the irrational.  Maybe I just WANT it.  I’m honestly not sure. There’s still some good news for me in Reddy’s story though.  For a start, his thread survived largely unmolested.  Historically speaking, poking one’s head above the ramparts of the body-hack-to-incontinence topic (even within the theoretically “safe space” of an entirely appropriate sub-group) appears to be an invitation have it shot off.  We’re not talking about simple challenges to ideas (I believe that NO idea should be above challenge).  Too often the responses however stray into simple ad hominem insults.  Sometimes these morph from clumsy-but-well-meaning attempts at warning, just as often from the righteous evangilising and occasionally, from the simply tin-eared-and-clueless.  The chilling effects of these historic internet-based flame campaigns have perhaps tended toward keeping these stories under a blanket. His tenacity in relating his account blow-by-blow is vanishingly rare on the searchable internet and I suspect a considerable number of others will use his example as a reason to pursue this strange dream to its conclusion.  I believe this can only be a good thing.  We may even learn if that itch has indeed been scratched for him  by all of this.  He has moved, and may yet move more metaphorical needles here. Perhaps one day, sufficient scale will exist for better recognition of the condition that drives it and the effectiveness of the remedy.  Perhaps one day this kind of surgery WOULD be legitimately available from local medical providers in a similar way to which sexual reassignment surgery is available today. That would be something to think about.
    • I keep a fresh supply of baby diapers in my urban trauma bag. Good for trauma and quick to apply.
    • When the baby girl came out and greeted him, he smiled and motioned for her to come and sit in the main room for a few minutes so he could talk to her. "Alright, baby, we need to talk.  What I'm doing right now is technically kidnapping if you ran away from home for some reason, or even if your parents kicked you out.  However, I'm going to do right by you.  So we need to talk about what is going on, baby." He reached his arms towards her in gesture.  "Come and sit on my lap for a minute so you don't get scared while we talk, sweetheart." "So, tell me how you found yourself on the streets for so long, and should I be sicking social services on someone that abandoned you here, baby?  Don't be scared.  You're not the one in trouble.  It's just really crappy for someone to throw a what, twelve?  thirteen?  however old a little girl you are on the street.  It's not safe, and it's not right." He patted her little lap. "Now, if you are scared of getting anyone in trouble, then we don't have to do that, sweetheart, but why didn't you go to the police?  They would have helped you get the right people to get you at least a safe home to be in instead of being on the street like you were." Larry hugged her.
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