Leaderboard

Working on the Underground Railway by Inku Hime The apartment had been built with inbetweeners in mind, so at a little over four feet tall Michelle Rork had few problems keeping house. She needed a small step ladder for the higher cupboards in the kitchen, and for dusting, and had a step stool near the door so she could look out the security peephole. She was standing on the step stool right that moment, peering out at the woman in front of her apartment. Stepping down she unlocked the door and pulled it open. “Come in,” Michelle said. Her guest was an inbetweener woman. Michelle closed the door behind her then locked it. She turned towards her guest, looking up at the woman who was probably at least two feet taller than her. It was not just height that differentiated the two. Michelle’s brown hair was more delicate than the other woman’s curly blonde, and Michelle’s features were softer, less defined, making her look much younger than her guest, though both were probably close in age. “Do you have everything Claire?” Michelle asked, looking at the small, pink bag the other woman carried. “I do,” Claire said. “Can I have a seat?” “Please.” Claire walked over to the couch and took a seat, putting the bag on the coffee table. Michelle took a seat next to her. Unzipping a small pocket on the bag, Claire brought out a passport, a thick envelope and several plane tickets. “Your travel documents.” Michelle reached out and gathered them up, looking through the documents. She then opened the envelope, eyes widening as she saw all the cash within. “Oh, my.” Claire unzipped the bag while Michelle was looking over the passport. When she dumped the contents on the table, the little looked over. “What’s that?” “Your travel clothing.” She reached forward, sorting out the clothing, frowning. Then she found the thick disposable pull up. “I am not wearing these!” she snapped at Claire. She was surprised when Claire shrugged her shoulders. “I don’t care what you wear.” “Then why…” “Because my employer, the person who is paying me to help you, does think you should wear them.” “That’s ridiculous.” “Is it? Listen, I am not going to pretend to understand what goes on between littles and bigs. I’m not going to tell you I understand your issues. Let’s face it, I don’t, and to be honest, I think most of you littles are terrible at being adults.” Michelle sat back, making a noise of disgust. Claire shrugged her shoulders again. “To me, it looks like you’re pouting, throwing a tantrum.” “I am not throwing a tantrum,” Michelle snapped and wondered if maybe she did sound like she was throwing a tantrum. “Well, you look like you are to me, and you are going to really look like you are to a big, and for the first leg of your journey, you are going to be on a plane surrounded by bigs. Do you really want them to be thinking you are throwing a tantrum, being a naughty little?” Michelle sat up, suddenly feeling a little embarrassed. “No.” “So let me explain things to you, the way they were explained to me. If you put on those clothes, you will look like a well cared for little. If you smile and say, ‘yes sir’, ‘no sir’, yes ma’am’, ‘no ma’am’, ‘mommy works hard to take care of me’, ‘I’m going to grandmas’, ‘thank you sir’, ‘thank you, ma’am’ then you sound like a well behaved little. And if you are wearing disposable training panties, just a step above diapers, you don’t need to be put into diapers.” Claire leaned back. “Apparently bigs don’t often bird dog other bigs’ littles.” Michelle had to think about what that meant for a few seconds before she bobbed her head. “I understand.” Claire only nodded. “I’m going to go and put these on.” Claire nodded again, seeming uninterested. Gathering up the contents she went into her room for some privacy. She stripped off her jeans and blouse, then her panties and the bra she really did not need. She had a suspicion from what Claire had said that wearing a bra might not be a good idea. It was not easy to dress without it. It had always seemed like an adult piece of clothing. She pulled on the soft pink slip first. Then she grabbed one pair of training pants and with trepidation pulled them on. They were so thick, covered in babyish prints, crinkling softly. Would they really offer her the protection that Claire said? Or was this a trap? Would Claire lead her to Mr Orin, John, and hand her over. The childish outfit and the training pants there to prove that she was just a baby. Michelle shook her head. “Don’t be so stupid and paranoid.” Quickly she finished dressing, white sundress with an empire waist and a skirt that came about halfway up her thighs. White socks, black maryjanes and a pink cardigan that was suitable for the weather. Reluctantly she looked in the mirror. Any hopes that she would see a small adult dressed in a ridiculous outfit were dashed. “No wonder John wants me as his little girl.” But if she got away she would never have to wear anything like this ever again. So she’d do it right. She found a set of hair elastics and ribbons among the remaining clothing. She put her hair up in pigtails, tied the ribbons in big, stupid bows. There. No big on that flight would think she was not being taken care of. She shoved the remaining pieces of clothing and the extra training pants back into the bag. Then she walked out of the room, trying not to look as embarrassed as she felt. Claire’s head was leaned back against the top of the couch. She looked like she was asleep. Michelle coughed softly. Claire straightened and looked towards the small woman. “Ready to go?” “Yes. Can you help me with the rest of my luggage.” She looked towards the bags packed up in the corner of the room. “No.” “Pardon?” “I’m not going to help you with them. And you should just leave all of it.” “But,” she paused, knew that she looked confused. “Why?” “They’ll slow you down if you need to run. And a little with that much luggage? Do you really want some big offering to help you carry them, to stick close to you?” Michelle shook her head but still looked towards the luggage that held the most important things she owned. Claire sighed. “How long is rent paid on this place?” “Three months,” Michelle said, still confused. “Once you are settled, get someone to mail it to someplace you can pick it up and have them sell the rest.” She nodded with determination after a moment. “Right. Thank you.” Michelle paused on the threshold, looking back at her apartment. She hated being chased out of it. She would have hated being John’s little baby girl more she supposed. She reached up and turned off the light, locking the door behind her. Out on the street, Claire waved down a taxi and helped Michelle up into the booster seat in the back. The ride to the airport was quiet and the closer they got to it the more Michelle was rethinking her decision. She was giving up a lot. Her apartment, her things, her job… maybe she should just stay. If she only avoided John he might leave her alone. The taxi stopped a red light. Michelle saw an Amazon, holding the hand of a child… no, a little. The little’s tight shorts showed off the thick diaper underneath, which also peaked out from the leg and waist openings of the shorts. No. She would not stay. When they arrived at the airport, Claire walked with her up to the ticket and baggage check. Michelle presented her ticket and passport. The tall inbetweener took them and looked over the documents. “Are you travelling alone sweetie?” Michelle bit back the first reply she thought of and instead said, “Yes sir. Mommy works hard all the time, so I am going to my grandma.” “Isn’t that sweet,” the man said as he entered some information into a computer. “Any luggage sweetie?” “Just this,” she said, holding up her pink bag. “Well, that’s small enough to go as check-on, so you just keep that with you and show it to security.” “Yes sir.” He gave her back her ticket and passport, and Michelle walked, a soft crinkle coming from under her skirt, towards the security checkpoint. Claire watched the small woman head deeper into the airport, and soon she was lost from sight. She thought that Michelle, as long as she remembered what she had been told, would probably make it clear. She turned and headed towards the exit. Of course, she figured that most littles needed to be taken care of, and she was really not doing Michelle any favours, but she was being paid to help her. And Claire made a point of doing what her employers asked, as long as it was not entirely illegal. And at the moment helping littles get away from bigs was perfectly legal, but not something you wanted to put on your CV. She got into one of the long line of waiting taxis outside of the airport and told the driver to take her back into the city. Her office and apartment were in the same building, a modest six-story apartment building, in a block of similar structures. Her small office was on the ground floor, a frosted glass door proclaiming to the world ‘Claire Edgerson - PI’ that opened up into a single room large enough for a desk, some chairs for visitors and several filing cabinets. She went to that office first, just to make sure nothing had been pushed through the mail slot that needed her attention and then, after locking up, out to the alley around back to have a cigarette. Leaning against the brick wall, looking up at the stars between the roof lines above her, she blew smoke into the air. Her job was nothing like she had dreamed as a girl when she had been reading Sherlock Holmes and Nancy Drew. Little excitement, no smugglers in secluded coves, just a lot of sneaking around. Finally, she ground out the half-smoked cigarette against the wall and then returned to the front of the building, tossing the crushed cigarette into a receptacle. One learned early in life not to litter; it was considered immature. The small apartment she lived in was on the second floor. One bedroom, comfortable; like all the apartments in the building, it was scaled to inbetweeners. Her computer sat on a small desk near the windows. Sitting down she logged on and brought up her email reader. Sorting through the email threads, she found the one she wanted and replied to it. ‘Michelle Rork delivered to the airport. I think she will make it.’ She paused and then added, ‘Please let me know if she does.’ Claire did not always ask to know how the littles she helped did. She did not want to find out they had failed. She only asked if she thought they had a decent chance. There were several other emails threads she replied to, for the most part with a simple, ‘job done’, sometimes with a few more details. Then she read through the new emails. Some she answered with, ‘I’ll take the job’ and others with a ‘not interested’. One email asked if she was willing to help a little named Daniel Kine get out of the area, a job very similar to the one she had just finished with Michelle. She thought about it for a moment. It paid well. However, in the last few months, she had met too many littles who were beyond her ability to help. Whining children who thought they were adults. It was too depressing to deal with them. ‘Would like to meet Daniel first, will make the decision after that,’ she typed and then hit reply. Work done Claire got up, went and poured herself a glass of beer, then turned on her TV. A few hours spent making notes for the next days work, and then, exhausted after a long day, she went to clean up before going to bed. Claire started most mornings with a jog, she ran about three miles, stopped halfway at a park to use some outdoor exercise equipment, then a faster run back home. Shower, a good breakfast, she dressed before checking her phone messages and email. She got a reply from her employer, telling her she could meet with Daniel after he finished work at about 5:30 that evening, and provided an address. Working out her schedule, a few quick emails, checking her map software and about 9 in the morning she was ready to go. First stop was a rental place to pick up a panel van, then another stop where two men, friends of hers, got into the vehicle. They also picked up some boxes before their final stop, which was a fancy looking six-story building, closer to the more affluent part of town, as it were. “Just give me a few minutes,” Claire told them. The two men, Roger and Pete, nodded. Roger taking a pack of cigarettes out of his pocket. “Sure,” Roger said. Claire put her hands in the pockets of her leather jacket and walked up to the front of the building. It was one of those places that struck a medium between inbetweeners and bigs. Littles likely would be at a loss in such a structure, and the tallest of bigs would find it uncomfortable to always be ducking under door frames and having the tops of the heads close to the ceiling. She looked at the call buttons just inside the vestibule and then pressed one. It took several seconds before there was an answer. “Yes?” a small, high voice asked. “Miss Trent?” “Yes?” “My name is Claire. I think my employer told you to expect me.” “Oh yes.” Excitement in the tone. “Please come up.” The door buzzed. Claire entered the building, took the elevator up to the third floor. Not long after she was knocking on a door marked with 3C. Within seconds she heard the door bolt slide back and then the door was opened by a little standing on a chair. Lisa Trent wore her black hair in a ponytail, all her hair pulled away from the rounded features of her face, and wore a pink, party like dress with a too short skirt. “Thank you,” were the first words out of her mouth. Claire nodded, stepped in and closed the door behind her. Lisa stepped down from the chair. “You’re alone here?” “Yes,” she nodded, “Miss…. My roommate, Cheryl, she’s gone for the day.” Claire did a quick circuit of the apartment, looking for nanny cams or the like. “Okay,” she said once she was done, “let’s get you out of here.” She pulled her phone from her jacket and called Roger. “Get up here, I’ll buzz you in.” Roger and Pete were soon in the apartment, with a cart and the boxes they had picked up earlier. The two men began packing up all of the things Lisa indicated. “No, leave all those,” Lisa said when they had started to clear out a wardrobe. “Cheryl bought them, and I don’t want them.” They were done in a surprisingly short time, Lisa owning very few things. “I’m going to change,” Lisa said. She had been pulling at the hem of her skirt since Roger and Pete had entered as if that might hide the diaper she was wearing. “No,” Claire said. “Leave it on. You can change later.” “But…” Claire turned a hard gaze on Lisa, and after a moment Lisa nodded meekly. “Okay.” Claire felt bad for intimidating Lisa, but she did not want to waste any time. For all she knew Cheryl was on her way back. They left the apartment, all the boxes on the cart, Pete and Roger pushing it. They were on the first floor, making their way towards the exit when the door to 1A opened, and an Amazon woman stepped out. Her gaze swept all of them, locking on Lisa for a few seconds before she asked the inbetweeners. “What do you think you are doing?” Lisa looked nervous, eyes wide, and Roger and Pete looked a little uncomfortable, presented with a woman who had about two feet of height on either of them. Claire, relaxed, said, “We’ve been asked by Cheryl to take all of this one’s,” she looked down at Lisa, “stuff to storage, or to be donated to charity. All the things that are too adult, if you get my meaning.” The woman’s demeanour changed instantly; she actually smiled. “Well it is about time,” she said, looking at Lisa. “That one needed this.” Claire shrugged her shoulders. “I suppose. We’re supposed to take her with us so she can see all her stuff go. Seems a little cruel to me, think you could watch her for me?” Lisa let out a small squeak. “Oh no dear,” the woman said to Claire. “This is good for her. You take her with you just like Cheryl asked. Make sure you do your job young lady.” Claire sighed as if she was being put out. The woman gave her a hard stare. Claire pretended a little concern and said, “Yes ma’am.” And so they left, with the woman from 1A actually helping them carry some stuff out to the van. The woman lifted Lisa up and put her in the child seat Claire had been sure to get in the van. Once they had driven away, Lisa asked, “How did you do that?” “Just gave her an immature inbetweener to turn her suspicion on,” Claire said. “Give people what they want to see and they’ll let you do what you want. Now let’s get you to your new apartment.” After getting Lisa settled into a small, bachelors apartment, then dropping off Roger and Pete, and returning the van to the rental agency, Claire was on to her next job. It was a building, near the centre of the town, a large condo designed for the bigger members of the population. It was a little daunting as the place was designed with people much taller than she. Likely this was how Lisa had felt in her old building. How would Lisa or any little feel in a place like this? Insignificant maybe? She shook off the moment of empathy. There was a job to do. Fortunately, her destination was not the top floors, which might have necessitated her jumping up to hit the buttons, and she only had to reach to eye height to press the button she wanted. She looked around the floor, wanting to be sure no one was around, then walked down the hall until she got to apartment 1109. Another look around, then she reached into her jacket, removing a set of lock picks. For the most part, she did not break laws, but she was willing to skirt them if required for a payday. She slid the pick and a tension bar into the lock and worked the tumblers. With a turn of her wrist, she popped the lock, heard the sound of the bolt sliding back. Taking one more look around, just to be sure no one was watching, she thumped the door three times, then turned and walked away, back to the elevators. She did not know what was going to happen next, whether a little was going to escape the room, or someone was going to enter to help the little. She did not know, and it really did not matter to her. Afterwards, she spent about an hour shopping. Next, she escorted a little from her apartment to a taxi. As simple as that, but apparently important. She stopped off at an apartment and persuaded the superintendent to rent an apartment to a little (convincing being a bribe and then a suggestion that going back on his word might be unwise). Then it was across town, into the suburbs. She walked along a strip of undeveloped property that about fifteen large houses backed onto. The fences were taller than she, so Claire did not have to duck down to go unseen. She counted the gates as she went. Twelve gates in she stopped and held her cell phone up above the wall, taking a picture. Bringing it down she looked at the image on the screen. She was in the right place. The gate looked like it had not been used in a few years. It was overgrown with ivy, probably would be pretty hard to open. She brought a folding knife out of her jeans pocket and slashed it through the vines, freeing up the gate so it would be easy to open. A locking mechanism was near the top of the gate. Almost out of her reach, and easily out of the reach of any little. She slipped a simple device into place, dropped a wire down the other side. Lastly, she took the bag she had brought with her (a bag filled with a change of clothing, some money, toiletries, some tools with which tracking devices could be removed) and hid it in some bushes beside the gate. Maybe the little would be able to get close to the gate. Maybe they would be able to pull the wire and unlock the gate. Maybe they would push it open and escape. And maybe not. Claire had been paid to make it possible, not to ensure it happened. That was all the work she had scheduled for the day, except for meeting with Daniel, and that was about two hours away. She went for an early dinner, eating at a place that would have been outside of her price range a few months before. Afterwards, she took a taxi to the address she had been given. It was a decent enough neighbourhood, similar to the one that Michelle had lived in. Set up mostly towards inbetweeners. She was soon standing in front of Daniel’s door, knocking. A moment later it opened. “Miss Edgerson?” an average sized little man asked her. His voice was deeper than she would have expected. “Call me Claire, may I come in.” “Please.” She stepped in as Daniel closed the door. The apartment was neat, clean. She could smell something spicy. “Would you like anything to drink? To eat?” Daniel asked her. “No thank you. Let’s get down to business. Daniel showed her to the living room. He was a very pretty little, the sort of delicate features that probably had people tell him he would make girls jealous. She also noticed that he was well muscled. Not the ridiculous muscles that some littles worked on as if that would stop a big from picking them up, but muscles that suggested he worked hard every day. “Tell me about your problem,” she said to him. “Ai yai yai,” he said, running his hands through short, brown hair. “I’m a mechanic,” he told her. “I work in a garage about ten minutes from here.” “A mechanic?” she could not keep a hint of incredulity from her voice. He must have heard it, but he did not seem insulted. In fact, he laughed. “You want to pull an engine out of a car almost every mechanic is going to press a button on a hoist.” “Yes, of course.” “Plus, with cars having less and less room under the hood, a small set of hands is pretty useful. People larger than me sometimes have to pull the engine just to get at something I can fix just by reaching in. My boss likes that. I get things done fast.” “I see. It sounds as if things are okay for you.” “They were, until about two months ago. I make it a habit to avoid customers, especially the bigger ones.” Claire nodded. “But I was getting something out of the storeroom when this Amazon came into my boss’ office. She saw me… I thought she was going to grab me right there and then.” “She didn’t I take it.” “No, but she asked my boss to introduce me, asked a bunch of questions. I got out of there just by reminding my boss I had a rush job I needed to finish. Once out of there I stayed out of there and in the repairs bays where the customers are not allowed.” “That wasn’t it though.” He shook his head. “Two days later she shows up with an old classic, a beater, rusted out. Ask my boss to restore it. He says it will take a few months, cost a lot, but she’s fine with it. Paying top dollar for it. Comes by every other day to take a look.” “So you think she is stalking you?” “Yeah. And last week it got pretty obvious. Heard her ask my boss if I take a lot of bathroom breaks. I know where that goes.” “So, what do you want?” “I want out of here.” “To go where?” “There’s a small town called Wespolin, middle of nowhere. Guy owns a garage there. He offered me a job a few years back. Says that the job is still there if I want it.” “And you need help with that?” “I need a passport, for one thing. I sent a rush application, but without a big co-signing it is going to take a month.” “Anything else?” “Plane tickets. And I need someone to go and check the job out.” “Pardon?” “This guy seems okay, but I want someone to make sure he is legit. What’s the point of running there if it turns out the job he offered is a lie, that he just wants to put me in a nursery, or maybe sell me.” “I don’t think he could sell you.” “Fine, take a generous finders fee.” Claire looked at Daniel for a few seconds. He seemed smart, Sounded like he had given it the right amount of thought. Likely was not going to do anything stupid. “I can help you Mr Kine.” He nodded, relaxing. “Thanks. I’ve been feeling pretty desperate.” “Keep going to work. The Amazon likely won’t make a move until she can get you to prove to everyone you are in need of her care. Especially true if your boss values you.” Daniel nodded. She asked him a few more questions, gave him her number in case of an emergency then finished their meeting telling him that she would contact him soon. Later, back at her apartment, she sent an email to her employer about the job. The next morning Claire received an email that informed her that Daniel’s passport would be delivered in the next few days. She also had booking reservations for flights, hotels and rental cars. She did not know who her employer was, but they had money, and they were very well organised. Claire packed quickly, just enough for a day. Her flight was leaving in a few hours, which gave her just enough time to run one fast job. She stopped off at a speciality store that sold quality clothing in all sizes, which was something of a code for mature clothing styles for littles. An Amazon woman was seated at a nearby cafe, watching the door suspiciously. Or maybe that was just Claire’s imagination. Working with littles was making her paranoid maybe. Inside she bought a suit and some other clothing and then left the store. The woman at the coffee shop started at her for a few seconds, then looked elsewhere. Apparently, Claire did not interest her. She dropped the suit off at a house in the suburbs, hanging it on the inside of the front gate before catching a cab to the airport. Then she boarded her flight, plenty of time to spare. The flight was uneventful, as was the drive into Wespolin. Wespolin itself was pretty much as Daniel had said. Out in the middle of nowhere. There were massive warehouses on the edge of the town because being in the middle of nowhere still meant you were in the middle of things and the town was something of a distribution centre. Still, it was not the sort of place the generally more cosmopolitan bigs would enjoy. By the time she left the next day, she knew everything she needed. It was late by the time she got back home, and she was feeling pretty tired, but she made a point of stopping off in her office. She was a little surprised to find a business card in her mailbox. It belonged to a police detective; Olive Quaint. A neat note written on the back said, ‘Please call me at your earliest convenience.’ What would a police detective want with her? It was too late to call, so she went back to her apartment, and after checking her email went to bed. She had almost nothing to do the next day. A meeting with Daniel after he got off work, but nothing else. She decided she would call detective Quaint. The woman who answered it had the deep, yet still feminine voice Claire associated with Amazons. “Detective Quaint.” “Detective, this is Claire Edgerson. You left your card at my office.” “Ah, Miss Edgerson. Thank you for getting back to me. I was hoping you’d speak to me, help me in a case I am looking into.” “Always happy to help the police. What is this about?” “Could you meet me this afternoon? I could come to your office about 2pm.” “That would be fine.” “See you then.” And she hung up. Claire sat back in her chair. She did not have quite a bad feeling about the call, but it was odd. Detective Olive Quaint was as Claire had pictured her; a tall Amazon. She had to duck down to get through the door of the office, and there was something slightly ridiculous when she took a seat in the visitor chair across from Claire. It was so obviously too small for her. Not that Claire showed her amusement. That would not be professional. It might also be unwise. The larger members of the population did not have a sense of humour about such things. “Can I get you anything Detective? Water, coffee?” “No thank you Miss Edgerson.” “So, why did you want to speak to me?” “Do you know a little named Wendy Laire?” “Yes,” Claire said immediately, not wanting the large detective to think that she was trying to hide anything. “Assuming we are talking about the same person, Wendy Laire hired me.” “What for?” Olive asked, leaning forward slightly, the chair she was sitting in creaking softly at the shift in weight. “Most of my work is confidential Detective Quaint.” Before the larger woman could say anything, Claire continued, “However, in this case, I don’t think there is any harm in telling you. She wanted me to check on an apartment, to see if the owner was discriminating against littles.” Olive sat back, the chair creaking again, a look of surprise on her face. After a moment she said, “Pardon?” “Wendy had been looking for a place. She was told that there were no vacant apartments. I asked and found out there were vacant apartments.” Olive frowned. “I don’t understand?” “You are not allowed to discriminate on size. I reminded the owner of that.” “Oh,” Olive said, her tone of voice conveying the message of ‘you’re one of those people.’ “That was the last contact I had with her.” A lie. “Why are you asking about her?” “Wendy disappeared about three weeks ago. Apparently, she just left her apartment, the one you helped her get.” An accusation, not of a legal failing, buy a societal one. “And the owner of the apartment has complained to the police?” “No. The disappearance was brought to us by a woman who was going to adopt Wendy. It was obvious that she was not able to take care of herself.” Claire nodded. “I hope you find her then.” “Oh, we found her. Wendy is safely in her new nursery with her new mommy.” Claire had been worried that Wendy’s ultimate fate was to end up in a nursery, but she had been hopeful. “So, why are you here?” “Wendy told her mommy, after a good, long spanking, that you helped her leave the city.” “Really?” Claire asked. “Why do you think she would say that?” “Because you helped her to leave the city.” Claire nodded. “Or a scared, spanked little told her mommy that someone helped her, perhaps in hopes of deflecting anger or just to avoid telling her mommy that she, Wendy, snuck away all on her own, and thus might do so again.” Olive nodded after a few seconds. “That may be possible as well.” “Even if I did help her, that is not against the law.” “No, it is not. At the moment.” Claire did not rise to it. “So I’m curious as to why you even needed to speak to me?” “I just wanted to meet you. To let you know that I’ve become interested in you.” Was that a threat? A warning? “How flattering,” Claire said. “You might choose to see it like that. Thank you for making time to speak with me.” She stood, towering over Claire who was still seated. Not quite as funny as it had been. “Good day Miss Edgerson.” “Goodbye Detective,” Claire said, not standing and letting Olive show herself out of the office. She would have to let her employer know that she had attracted such attention. She wondered who Wendy’s new mother was that she could get the police involved. Claire left her office, careful not to make it obvious that she was looking around as she looked around. She did not see Detective Quaint, but a large car, in which a large man sat, was parked across the street from her office. Flagging down a cab, she got in, told the driver to take her across town. The car followed her. She changed her destination twice, the cab driver muttering as he had to turn around. The big car was always behind her. The cab dropped her off at a clothing store. Claire spent about an hour trying on clothing. When she left the car was gone. “Must have bored him,” she said softly. Another taxi, a few more double backs and she was sure no one was following her. She took an early dinner before having a cab take her to the area that Daniel lived, but did not have the taxi drop her off right in front of his building. The next day Claire had a reply from her employer suggesting, in light of the police interest, that once she finished up with Daniel, she take a break. Claire was going to miss the extra money, but she saw the wisdom in it. She’d be back to taking pictures of people cheating and the occasional lost person or item case. Well, they all paid the bills. However for the moment, there was still the work with Daniel, and her employer had arranged for a rush on the passport. It had already been delivered to a post office box, ready for pick up. She grabbed her stuff, taking some time to make some special preparations. Just in case. She checked her messenger bag and then headed out. Outside her building, she waited a minute or two before she flagged down a taxi and climbed in. As she leaned back in the seat, her gaze shifting to the mirrors. After a few minutes, she knew she was being followed again. Another big car, always there behind her. And she knew who it probably was. Well, she had prepared for it after all. The cab dropped her off in front of the big post office near the centre of the city. It was busy, and no one really paid her much attention. She walked along the marble corridors until she reached an area full of post office boxes, thousands of them, forming hallways of little doors. Her’s was just another among many, a tree hidden in a forest. A turn of a key unlocked the door. She reached in and took the courier envelope from within in, a few seconds to slide it into her messenger bag. When she looked up, she saw detective Quaint standing at the end of the corridor. She closed and locked the post office box door and walked towards the Amazon. “Good morning Detective, what a pleasant surprised.” Olive nodded. “Morning. Don’t have your mail dropped off at your office?” “Some things you like to be anonymous,” Claire said with a smile. “May I see it?” She held out her hand. “Why detective, do you have a warrant?” Olive’s eyes widened. Her lips parted. “Just joking,” Claire said and reached into the bag. “Always hear that on TV and thought it would be funny to say just once.” Frowning, Olive reached out and took the envelope. “No one likes a comedian,” pause, “little girl.” Ouch, Claire thought, hoping she had not pushed the Amazon too far. However, Olive seemed content with the warning and tore open the envelope. Within was what looked like a magazine with a glossy black cover. Frowning again Olive opened it and flipped through the pages. Claire was careful not to smile when she saw a flush appear on the larger woman’s cheeks. It was a catalogue full of various depraved bondage gear. Olive shut the catalogue and held it out towards Claire as if it were something disgusting. “You’re a pervert.” “I’m just curious,” Claire said, not bothered by Olive’s condemnation. “It’s why I didn’t want it delivered to my office.” She took the catalogue back. Olive stared at her, lips pressed into a tight line. Claire was happy she was over six feet tall. Any shorter and she was pretty sure she would be over Detective Quaint’s knee. “Those things are for adults, don’t order anything,” Olive warned, and then turned and walked away. And how would you stop me, Claire thought but did not voice. After all, there was probably lots of ways the Amazon could stop her. She slipped the catalogue back into the envelope and put it back into her bag, beside the real envelope which she had removed from the post office box. It never hurt to make preparations. She knew what was in the envelope, but as Daniel would still be at work, there was no point in trying to deliver it at that moment. Instead, she made the rounds, visiting old contacts and looking for work. She would need the old kinds of jobs once she finished with Daniel. And it would bore anyone who might be following her. That night she met with Daniel, handing him the envelope. He tore it open, spilling out a passport as well as several tickets and a few sheets of paper. “This is amazing,” he said, looking at the passport. “Your benefactor, my employer, does good work.” He nodded, looking over the tickets and the papers he had been given. “Do you think I can make it?” Claire shrugged her shoulders. “As long as you follow the instructions you should.” “I want to leave now.” “Don’t blame you, but if you leave at the start of the weekend, it's at least a few days before you are missed.” “I’m getting more and more worried about that woman,” he said. “I don’t like to admit it, but,” he paused, swallowed, “I’m scared.” Claire recalled her own, recent interactions with an Amazon. She was not willing to say she understood, but she did say, “I know. That’s smart.” He laughed, snorted really, and nodded. “I guess it is.” “Keep your calm. Continue you like you have. Don’t change anything you do, and if you need help, give me a call. You won’t need help though.” “Right. Thanks.” He shuffled the envelope contents into a neat pile. “You’re welcome.” He nodded. “Thank you, thank you. I can’t say it enough.” “Maybe one day you can fix a car for me.” “Deal.” Claire excused herself and left the apartment. Outside, a little distance from the building, she lit up a cigarette, smoked it slowly, looking around, wondering how many other littles were in the apartments, how many others might need help getting away from some big. She stubbed out her cigarette and tossed it into the proper receptacle. In a few days, it would be back to the divorce cases, serving papers, tracking down deadbeats. She had to admit, helping littles escape had been, well, not really exciting, but it had been satisfying. Perhaps in a month or two Detective Quaint would find someone else to hassle and Claire could get back to it. She flagged down a cab and told the driver to take her home. In another city, in a port, another private investigator was helping another little get free of a would-be Amazon parent. Patricia Frost, six and a half feet inbetweener was leading Rachael Green, four and a quarter foot little, towards a ship. “All you have to do is behave,” Patricia said. “Just be a good girl, and no one will give you any trouble.” Rachel nodded, and then said, “Thank you, Miss Frost. I really appreciate it.” Patricia smiled down at her. “No problem. Now, remember, good girl.” She walked Rachel up to the boarding stairs and then left the little to handle the rest. Patricia did not look back as she made her way off the docks. When she reached her parked car, she took out her cellphone and typed in a message. ‘Rachel safely onboard’. The acknowledgement came a short time later and was a simple ‘good work’. “Fool,” Patricia said softly. “Wasting all this money to help stupid littles who are just going to get caught anyway.” Putting the one phone away she fished a second phone from her pocket. The number she wanted was already in the phone’s memory, so a few swipes of the screen was all it took to dial. She listened to the other phone ring a few times before it was picked up. The voice on the other end replied with, “Peterson Residence.” “Let me talk to Amanda Peterson.” The person on the other end was silent for a moment and then asked, “Who shall I say is calling?” “Tell her it is about Rachael Green, getting farther and farther away from her.” “Just a moment please.” Patricia leaned against her car, waiting. Maybe she had overplayed her hand. Maybe she had been wrong about how much Amanda wanted Rachael. She never understood the desire of Amazons to claim littles. Then on the other end, “This is Amanda Peterson. What do you have to tell me about Rachael?” Snappy tone, a woman used to getting her way. “Rachael is going away. You’re never going to find her again. I’m not a kidnapper or anything. I just know where she is and where she is going. If you’d like to know the details, it will cost you twenty-five thousand dollars.” “Now listen here, whoever you are. I don’t know what you think you are doing but…” “Check her apartment. See if she is still there. Make it fast. You only got a few hours. Call me back when you made your decision. You got this number on your call display.” And then Patricia hung up. She had to admit, getting the last word with an Amazon was enjoyable. Patricia was about halfway home when her phone rang. She pulled off to the side of the road and answered it. “Where is Rachael?” was the demand as soon as the call was answered. “That information will cost you twenty-five thousand dollars.” “I can’t just give you…” “I’m not stupid Mrs Peterson. I don’t expect you to just give me the money. I will send the details for you to put the money in an escrow account, to be released to a numbered corporation as soon as you adopt Rachel. All nice and legal, and I don’t see a dollar until you have Rachel well and truly in your hands.” Silence for a moment. “And what if I choose not to adopt her?” Very sly, Patricia thought, but she said, “Then some other person could adopt her and take her, couldn’t they?” “Yes.” It sounded like she was speaking through gritted teeth. “I am sending you the information. As soon as I see the escrow account has been set up, I’ll let you know where Rachael is. Tick tock Mrs Peterson.” And then she hung up again. Patricia was parking her car when she got a message telling her the account was set up. She called Amanda again. As soon as the phone was picked up, she said, “Rachael is on a ship, and in two days she’ll be beyond your reach, but the ship makes one stop in a jurisdiction where you might take control of Rachael, and no one will say anything. Or maybe you can contact someone on the ship and have them claim her. For all, I know you’ll just charter a helicopter to fly you out there. I am sending you the details. Good luck.” Then she hung up and sent an email. She figured that she would have the money in a week at the most. She might even have it by tomorrow. Patrica locked her car and walked towards her apartment building, whistling a cheerful tune: ‘I’m in the money’. The sunny tune died on her lips when she stepped out of the elevator, seeing two men standing outside of her apartment. They were dressed in suits, with thin overcoats. One was a tall inbetweener, the other a giant. “Miss Frost,” the giant asked his voice deep, almost a boom. “Yes?” she asked as she heard the elevator doors close behind her. There was that avenue of retreat cut off. Why was she thinking of escape? “Miss Frost we would like to speak to you about your reported income and your taxes,” the inbetweener told her. “You’re with the tax department?” she asked, somewhat relieved. “Why did you come here? You could have called me. I would have come down to your office. I’m sure there is not a problem.” “You think tax evasion is not a problem,” the giant said, loudly. “No, not at all, it’s just…” “Paying taxes is the mature action of an adult,” he told her. Patricia felt her stomach fall. Words like that, from a big, were never good. The inbetweener took a step forward. “We’d like to talk to you about your finances, down at the office.” He looked as if he was going to try to put his hands on her. She ducked to the side. “Wait. There’s something. Someone is helping littles get away from bigs, helping them set up in new places. I can show you the details.” “Miss Frost,” the inbetweener said, sounding a little exhausted, “that really has nothing to do with us, now please…” “Just a moment,” the big interrupted his partner. “I want to see this.” The inbetweener looked like he might argue, then shrugged his shoulders. “Okay.” She would be able to cut some deals, she thought as she unlocked her door. She would pay the taxes she owed, and there would be no reason for anyone to consider her immature. She nearly ran to her computer, logging on. The computer’s desktop appeared. She brought up the mail reader. “Here, it is all…” Eyes widened. All the emails having to do with her work helping littles was gone. The records of months of work all just gone. How was the even possible? “I… I don’t understand.” The big, leaning over slightly to keep his head from brushing her ceiling, put a large hand on her shoulder. “What don’t you understand?” She swallowed. “The email records, they are gone…” “Lying is not very mature young lady,” he rumbled above her. Her phone vibrated. “Let’s go down to our office,” the inbetweener said. Patricia took her phone from her pocket. There was message. She opened it. It read, ‘Payback is a bitch.’ Then the message erased itself, taking so many other messages with it. “Look,” she said, holding the phone up, “someone is erasing all the proof.” Of course, by then it was too late, there was nothing to see. She argued with the two men as they escorted her from the apartment. She might have continued had not the big threatened to spank her if she kept telling lies. A silent Patricia was escorted from the building, wishing she had not gotten greedy, or at least had been greedy but still filed complete tax returns. In a three-story suite, in an old, tall, red brick apartment building, a group of Amazons were meeting for drinks, to talk. They were all well dressed, well presented, clothing and jewellery subtly speaking of money. “I just can’t believe that Annie disappeared like that,” Karen Past said. There was a bit of redness about her blue eyes, and her curly, black hair looked a little unkempt. “I had just gotten the nursery ready and as waiting for her to come to work so I could take her home with me.” “And her apartment was empty?” Evangeline Court asked her. Evangeline was the youngest of the women there, and the most fancily dressed. Trophy wife of an older man. “Just furniture left behind, a few other odds and ends.” “Did you go to the police?” the hostess asked. “I did, but they couldn’t help me. They said that there was no sign of foul play and that Annie was, at least when she disappeared, considered an adult.” “Ridiculous!” Yvonne Tanson said, before taking a large gulp of her red wine. She was the oldest woman there, brown hair gone mostly grey, a thicker build than the others. “How could anyone think a little is anything but a child? You should have told those police officers to get off their bottoms and get to work!” Karen nodded and took a sip of her wine. “I guess I should have made a bigger deal of it… You know, they say that Annie was not the only little who had apparently disappeared. They say it is like someone is helping them move to new places.” “Helping littles?” Yvonne said, scandalised. “That is criminal!” “Not yet,” the hostess said. “And perhaps some littles might be able to take care of themselves.” “That is easy for you to say,” Evangeline told her. “You have a pretty little all your own after all.” Chase Morgan smiled. “Guilty I suppose.” “It’s not like you ever thought tiny EmEm was able to take care of herself, and a good thing too,” Yvonne stated. “Pretty as she is stupid.” Chase was still smiling, taking a drink of her wine, perhaps hiding a laugh? “I suppose that is so,” she said, putting the wine down. “I don’t suppose,“ Karen said, “that you could let us look in on EmEm?” “I don’t know, she is asleep, I would hate to wake her.” Chase looked at the baby monitor on the table beside her. From it had come the occasional soft breathing sound or a tiny snore. “Nonsense,” Yvonne told her. Chase stared at the older woman, raising an eyebrow. Yvonne was quick to back down. “I just meant some littles are naughty and stay up when you think them asleep.” Chase seemed willing to accept the older woman’s retreat. “Yes, I have heard that,” she said, her tone suggesting that EmEm would never be so naughty. “But maybe I will look in on her, make sure she is still dry.” “…I will look in on her, make sure she is still dry.” Chase’s voice came from the baby monitor sitting close to Emily’s crib. Emily was seated in the crib, thick diaper spreading her thighs a little, dressed in a footed sleeper with a bunny ear hood. On her knees was her laptop. She looked towards the monitor. Probably it would be a few minutes at least before Chase ‘gave in’ to her guests and brought them up to show her off. The baby monitor, like everything that Chase had bought for the nursery, was of the highest quality, hooked into the wireless network so it could be controlled by a smartphone app. Emily had hacked it the first night, turning it into a ‘Chase’ monitor, and just letting Chase hear what she wanted her to. One ear on the monitor Emily finished off her work, doing what she could to help poor Rachael Green. There was not much Emily could manage for the betrayed Rachel, trapped on a ship as she was. She had turned in Patricia Frost for tax fraud, so there was at least some justice, but Rachael would not see it like that were she to be snapped up by Amanda Peterson. Emily had sent a telegram to the ship, for Rachael, warning her of what was happening. She had also purchased passage for a second, empty cabin, then hacked the ship’s reservation listing, making it seem that Rachael Green was now in the empty cabin and one Miss Smith was in Rachel’s cabin. If Rachel just stayed in her cabin and waited until the ship reached its ultimate destination, then she might just make it free. Without an agent on site, there was only so much she could do. “Well Rachael, if you end up getting caught I think I’ll tell Amanda about Patricia. If Amanda takes her in as a penitent ward, it might defect some of the crap from you.” It was not much, just like everything she did was not much. In truth, Emily was not really running her little escape system to help all the other littles. She was glad enough when she did help them get away, but what this really was about was learning. What escape plans worked. The best travel plans for going undetected. Places where a little might avoid bigs. Who could be trusted. Who could be trusted was the most important. Chase had power and money, and she could certainly offer a reward large enough that any of Emily’s agents (private detectives, bounty hunters, various independent specialists) might turn on her. Best to learn about people like Patricia Frost now. It, of course, made her feel a little guilty, but she was honestly trying to help them. She just was benefiting, whether the other littles got away or not. The conversation between Chase and her friends was coming to a point where Chase would agree to bring them up to the nursery, to look in on her. Emily turned off her computer and reached out of the crib to put it on a small table with other toys, nearly falling as she did so. Falling out of her crib was the last thing she wanted. She switched the baby monitor back to regular operation and slipped quietly under her sheets, pulling the rabbit-eared hood over her head. Now she had to decide if she was going to wet her diaper, and while that would result in being changed in front of the other women, at least she would be able to sleep in a dry diaper. Or she could hold it, and end up wetting it sometime in her sleep, spending the night in a wet diaper. Decisions decisions.

I've read here for a long time, but never joined or posted. Today is the day! I have to share this with someone! I've always enjoyed wearing & wetting diapers, but haven't done it in years. This last week I picked up a package of depend pull up style diapers and tried them. What a waste of money! They leak so bad on the first wetting I just threw them out. I tried goodnights next which did better but are a little small for me. Yesterday I picked up the walgreens brand which is a step up from depend but still not what I want. I'm still trying to find something I like. Anyway. Today on the way home from work I had to poop. Although I'm interested in the idea of messing a diaper, I'm not a huge fan because of the clean up. Today I planned to put my diaper on, pee, then poop in the toilet and go back to my wet diaper. When I got home the house was cold so I started a fire and also laundry and at that point I had to poop and pee pretty bad so I went to get my diaper. As I was bending down to pull out a diaper I could feel my poop starting to poke out a little. It was a hard poop and this never happens to me! I can usually hold it for a long time, but not tonight. I've been experimenting a little with anal play so I wonder if that's the cause. So I pull my diaper on and try to pee..when my poop starts coming out! I grabbed the back of my diaper and tried to hold it in so I could pee, but every time I relaxed to pee it would come out a little more. When I wet my diaper I like to talk so I kept saying "Oh no, I'm having an accident in my diaper. My poop is starting to come out." I really didn't want to mess my diaper so I waddled to the bathroom but before I got there my big poop came out. I cried a little and said "Oh no oh no I can't hold my poopy, I'm having a big accident in my diaper!" It was a solid one and pushed the back of my diaper way out. I just stood there in shock wondering if I really just had an accident in my diaper or if I was subconsciously doing it on purpose. I started to pee a little by accident, but I held my hands over my diaper so I could try to hold it in. "Oh no now I'm going pee pee too! I'm a bad girl who needs diapers." I didn't want to make a bigger mess by wetting my diaper too. I took a few more steps to the bathroom but it was too late, I started peeing again. "I can't stop it, my pee pee keeps coming out. I'm making such a mess in my diapers." At that point I knew it was too late and I still had to poop so I pushed until the next one came out. My diaper was so full I could feel it squishing against my bottom and riding up the back of my diaper. I reached around and touched the back of my diaper and was so surprised by how warm and good it felt. I couldn't believe I had a accident. "I guess I really do need diapers if I can't hold my poopy anymore. I'm such a bad girl for making a mess in my diaper." I walked around in my mess for a little while. The walgreens diapers get really hard after they're wet for a while and I like that feeling because every time I move I'm reminded of how naughty I've been. After I cleaned up I put a new diaper on and now I feel like such a naughty little girl for having an accident. I kind of hope it happens again

I redid my nursery...again. I think it will stay this way for a while this time. I love Winnie the Pooh so much. Can you tell?

Bloomington here

Yes, ABDLs are almost always very nice people. I think it is because we all (even pure DLs) work directly with our inner child. And that is source of kindness and happiness. :-)

Well I am glad that people donated since the 18th is my birthday so that would have been one horrible birthday present to have

Like I said, that employee would probably want to leave anyway at that point due to the amount of embarrassment they would get. But what if the employee was a muslim, and caused you to lose buisness because people believed the media's "terrorism" propaganda? What would you do then?

Don't take your fetish to work or school... Especially if you can't just wear discreetly and save the age play and stuff for home. The guy sounds like a real sick person and I hope he gets help before making his or other people's lives even worse.

I donated 50 yesterday, but I do not need a pin thank you.

I think Jilly Poo wrote that story.

I do not pay close attention to all that stuff which changes with the decades The health nuts who bitch about high fructose corn sugar in soda are the intellectual, spirtual and social descendants of the same ones who crybabied about sucrose in soda and recommended using fructose. I eat food, not agenda; agenda tastes like cardboard. The best thing you can do is have a widely varied diet. that ensures you get 1. a wide variety of nutrients and 2 not too much of anything. How many things look good on paper and when they hit the real world are a grand flopperooo? Save yourslef the stress, that will kill you before the others will

3.) I looked at Bridget through the glass and shook my head. Panic was rising up in my chest. I wasn't going to leave her. I couldn't just-- she slammed hard on the glass and pointed to the door. Bridget was always calm under stress. I wound up and exploded like a spring. If she says I needed to call the police, I needed to call the police... so I went back to Soren and helped her through the doors and into the lobby. All the while, she didn't say a word. Stay calm, stay calm... you just have to get those doors open, Ria... somehow... "Riiiuhhh" Soren giggled around the thumb in her mouth, as she obediently followed the girl she so faintly and vaguely recognized. She watched her intently as she tried to open the door. "Doesy open, nuhuh, doesy open, nuh for us, jus' for Trudie.” She nodded her head, apparently proud, and plopped down on the red carpet like a stumbling toddler, watching both intently and disinterestedly, as Ria tried to open the door, then tried to call with her phone, then tried to open the door again. This wasn't working. This wasn't getting me anywhere! I had no signal. The doors wouldn't budge. I slammed into them with my shoulder and used my nails to pick apart the cracks, but I just couldn't get a hold on the huge wooden doors. I was stuck in here. I couldn't get out. I couldn't leave, and... and I felt my chest rising and falling. I couldn't do this right now, if I had an anxiety attack... why couldn't Bridget be the one out here? Why wasn't I the one trapped in that room? “Tha' way,” Soren vaguely motioned behind her, to a set of doors on the other end of the foyer, although she didn't really give any indication as to what to expect in that direction, just that it was of interest to her and her dumbly muted mind right now. She didn't have any scars on her head, though, nothing to indicate physical damage, so it seemed like this state of being was purely psychological, however it might have happened. And she seemed entirely and strangely calm to be here. I looked at Soren blankly. At the girl who - six months ago - I was partners with in Child Development. And now... now she was acting like one of the kids were had to do a paper on. It was just... too much. But if she really had been here for six months... "That way?" I asked between uneven, labored breathing. "An exit? We can get out?" Soren pointed again. I didn't have a choice, did I? I helped her back to her feet and walked her through the other set of double doors. A way out. Don't panic, Ria. Soren knew a way out. Where they wound up wasn't exactly a way out, though; it was what looked like a library, with a ceiling now far too high to still be a part of any basement level, and a woman dressed like a maid, or more likely, a librarian. She was standing at a desk in the center, going through a pile of books that looked high enough to be dangerous. “’Trudie!" Soren announced, but only loud enough for her friend to hear and not loud enough to get the woman's attention. A name, perhaps. I slapped my hand over Soren's mouth and held her tight against my chest. I was seeing stars. This wasn't an exit. Or was this an exit and it was through one of the library doors? I didn't know. And I couldn't trust Soren. I didn't know what was wrong with her, but... I leaned against the wall and tried to catch my breath. Anxiety was filling me up. What if I never got out of here? What if some crazy man had kidnapped Soren? What if I stumbled into his hideout? He'd never let me go... "Are you here to check out a book, child, or are you content to stand agape and stare until supper time?" The woman didn't look up as she spoke, but she was very attractive in a 19th's century victorian maid-cum-librarian kind of way: hair up in a bun, uniform pressed, skin unblemished by so much as a kiss of the sun. Well, what could be seen of her face, anyway, because she was still looking down. “Tha’s Trudie, she berry nice yuhhuh,” Soren affirmed, quietly, apparently knowing enough to whisper hushedly to her friend. I wasn't handling this well. I was scared and I was lost and I just needed to get out of here and call the police! I had to get Bridget out of that cell! Soren wiggled out of my arms and ran across the library and up to the woman. Very nice. That's what Soren said. So I gave it my best shot, stepping out of the shadows and into view of the librarian. "I'm just... looking for a way out. I'm sorry, I... I thought there might be a way through here, since the doors won't open, and..." I was having trouble breathing. My anxiety was too much to handle. I just had to get out of here. I just had to get out... "Do you have somewhere to be, child? The Mistress and Master of the Hospital are predisposed at the moment.” The more she spoke, the more her accent became apparent, minor as it was, and she pulled Soren into her arms, looking down. "Come now, there's some peach pie and lemonade you're more than welcome to, and we can discuss your intentions." True to form, there was pie on her desk, opposite to the side where the books were, and it smelled oddly and potently enticing, even from across the room. Mistress and Master of the Hospital? What did that mean? I didn't understand. This place was shut down! This place had been shut down a century ago! But now Soren was here, and... and... "I... my friend is in the other room. She got locked in. Can you get her out? Bridget. Her name is Bridget. We really have to go. We really..." I leaned against the wall and closed my eyes. I couldn't breathe... "Come and have some pie, child, if your friend has locked herself in a room then she can't come to any harm, can she now? She'll be safe until the Master and Mistress are available, and I do say it seems as though you have some fretting of your own to handle. Now no more fun, come over here." She made some pretty good points, for a time displaced maid-librarian-of-undetermined-origin, and the pie did smell pretty wonderful. I shook my head but the librarian had taken my hand and shuffled me along to the check-out desk. The pie was sitting on a plate, waiting, almost expectantly. But I couldn't breathe. I was having a panic attack. How could I be expected to eat? But it smelled so good... and... well if I could eat, maybe I could calm down. I'd never tried to eat during a panic attack before, but I certainly had never wanted to try so badly. The woman put a bite on a fork and I took it into my mouth. Oh... wow... The pie, peach with cinnamon, tasted like nothing else that Ria would ever have tasted. So good, in-fact, that when the woman did look up, and her perfect face was mired by eyes as black as the pitch of night, she didn't even seem all that bothered by it. "You're making too much of a fuss over things too petty, child. Tell me your name. You said your friend was called Bridget, so what should we call you?" It was Soren who piqued up, with a mouthful of peaches and a toothy grin. "Riiiiuhh! tha's Riuhh!" "Uh..." The woman smiled down at me with her impossibly dark eyes. I felt like I was falling into them just with the way she was looking at me. "Ria," the librarian said, mirroring Soren. It wasn't lost on her that Soren and I knew each other. "It's Ria, then?" I wasn't sure why, but I nodded. I felt the panic in my chest ebbing away. I took another bite of pie. Wow... "And where is your friend, Ria? Has she come here for treatment, too? You must have come here for treatment, like Soren did." Soren looked like she didn't have any input on that matter. "You'll be well taken care of here, don't you fret. My name is Gertrude, but the children tend to call me Trudie. How is your pie? I'll cut you another slice. Lemonade, too, correct? Soren is so fond of her lemonade." "I... I can't. I have to be going... I need to... where's Bridget...?" I looked around the room like I'd forgotten where I was, then took another bite of pie. Whatever was left of my panic attack was well and truly gone. The pie was just so amazing, and I wasn't even a huge fan of pie. Bridget would love this pie... "Yes, that is the question I asked you, Ria. Is she already receiving treatment? I suppose she is, if she's not here. Do you know her illness? Is it hysteria? Precocious nature? A stern wit? No matter, she'll receive all the treatment she requires here. We've always taken very good care of our patients. Why it seems like only yesterday that Soren arrived, and look how far she's come." The woman, Trudie, managed to look beautiful despite her dark swirling eyes, and she put one hand on Ria's cheek. "You're quite a beauty, Ria. I suppose for your family to afford to send you here you must be of fine wealth.” I looked up into her swirling dark eyes and shook my head. Something was wrong here, I just knew it. But I couldn't figure out what. I got up from my place at the check-out desk and pushed past the librarian. The plate in front of me was empty - I'd eaten the whole slice without even realizing it. "I don't know what you're talking about. I'm... I don't need treatment. I just... we accidentally..." I shook my head. This was too hard to explain, even with the strange, unexpected calm. "I have to go," I told her, pushing my way to the double doors. "Please, you're suffering from hysteria, from confusion, Ria. Your parents must be dreadfully worried for you, and we're going to help you. Please at least have a drink and consider what I'm telling you, and if you think I have any reason to split from the honest truth of things." Her voice was calm. Her eyes were dark, and terrible, but also... soothing. And Soren seemed oh so happy. "It is not hysteria! You're absolutely insane. Now let me--" But trying to push past the librarian got me nowhere. She grabbed me by my hair and pulled me into her . Her eyes looked down at mine, warm and cold at the same time. And she was so close to me... I felt a blush on my cheeks. "You're safe here, safe and sound, and getting the help you need." She pushed something between the girls lips, something cold and strange in texture; and lemonade began to flow from the tip; a glass bottle with a teat that was clearly meant for children of a very young age. "Drink your lemonade, you're safe here, safe as can be. You have nowhere else you would rather be but here, getting well, getting better." I swatted at the woman's hand but she caught my wrist in midair. I felt my back hit one of the bookshelves. The bottle dripped sweet, bitter liquid onto my tongue. She pushed up against me, her eyes locked on mine. After a few soft sucks on the nipple - entirely unintentionally - I had to avert my gaze. I felt heavy all of a sudden. "Your friend is already being tended to, and you'll see her very soon. You'll be happy to see her, proud of her progress. She was afflicted with violent outburst, and perhaps further intervention will be needed to remove those feelings. For now, she's doing well. You're doing well, too, Ria." Trudie stroked her hair, and sat down on an easy-chair while she spoke, pulling the college-age girl into her lap with nothing but the whim of the baby bottle. Her smile was sweet and her eyes were dark and Soren was giggling in the background happily. It was going to be a very very long night.

Here is the latest update to the story. It has been available on my Patreon for the last week as all my story updates are. For $5 you can get early access to everything I write and for $10 you get the early access plus access to exclusive stories. There are other tiers and rewards to be found on my Patreon page: https://www.patreon.com/Elfy88 A big thank you to all who read my stories and comment on them. But an extra big thank you to everyone who supports me financially via Patreon: DannyDazzler, Daniel O, Lena S, Tsidt, Scy Tali, Britnee L, Sith, Trenton M, Geoffrey J, Robert J, Chris, Cameron, Cole T, Dorian G, LB Iceland, BabyBB, J Land, Tim F, Cvsflip105, P74_1986, Chris B, Ron N, Jerry J, Frank S, Charlie S, P, Orion F, John, Kevin H, Tom H, Sterling W, Ryan, Jens B, Zachary U, Thomas R S, Matthew S, Pierry L, Matthew John D, James B, A Random Patreon, Eric C, Ben R, C Dom, Lin J, Ben F, Emmanuel S, Henry C, Bob, Michelle G, Kent J, Scott S https://www.patreon.com/Elfy88 I also write commissions for anyone interested in one. --- Nick turned the radio up as he pulled away from Kirsty’s house. He smiled and nodded his head to the classic rock song that started blaring out of the car’s speakers. It felt good to be free of his responsibility, his burden even. Looking after Sarah was a much bigger chore than he thought it would be. Checking his phone, Nick fired off a quick text to Steven saying he was on his way and would meet them outside the stadium. There were four of them that went to the football matches together. Steven and Nick as well as two of their other friends would usually go to every home game, a tradition that had been broken recently by events outside of Nick’s control. He was looking forward to getting back to a normal routine after everything that happened. It was like a sense of closure to a difficult time of his life. As he drove through town, Nick thought back to what he had left behind at Kirsty’s house. He hoped that he could trust George, he had no reason to believe that he couldn’t but he knew what those two women were like. Traffic was pretty dense as expected on this Saturday afternoon. Not only was there a lot of traffic heading for the stadium but there were a lot of people that were going shopping too. It made the hot car rather unpleasant as Nick had to constantly wait for traffic ahead of him to clear. Nick had already got his cover story ready. He planned to tell his friends that he was unwell, he wouldn’t be more specific but if they asked where he had been he would just say he had an infection or something. He just prayed that none of them would notice the bulk between his legs. When Nick pulled up to the stadium car park he felt the first flutter of a different kind of nerves. This was an excited nervousness for an event that Nick was looking forward to. It had been too long since Nick had last been able to watch a football match yet alone hang out with his friends. Nick locked his car up and looked at the huge swathes of people walking towards the enormous stadium. There were thousands of people milling around excitedly looking forward to kick off. Most of the people were wearing the bright red shirt of the home team, the team that Nick supported but there were a fair few in the dark blue of their opponents for that evening. There was no trouble though, all of the crowds seemed to be having good natured fun. Nick made his way through the crowds towards the large stadium in the centre of the surrounding car parks. He leaned up against a lamp post close to the wall and took the opportunity to adjust his shirt and make sure his underwear was hidden still. “Nick? Mate, I nearly didn’t recognise you!” Steven appeared suddenly from the crowds and clapped his hand on Nick’s shoulder. “Hi Steven.” Nick replied. He was rather more subdued than his friend. He hadn’t seen Steven coming and it made him nervous that his friend could’ve seen something he shouldn’t have. “We thought you were dead!” Steven said with a laugh as he stood in front of Nick with a big warm smile on his face. “Heh… Nah, just not well.” Nick replied cautiously. He could feel the temperature in his face rising, he really hoped Steven wouldn’t ask any difficult questions. “Fair enough.” Steven replied, “You had anything to eat? Let me get you a burger, there’s a great food van just over here.” “No, it’s OK…” Nick trailed off as Steven walked away towards the truck without listening to Nick. Nick shook his head and rolled his eyes. Steven was always doing stuff like this, he wouldn’t listen to what the other person said. It could be worse though, at least Nick was getting a free burger out of it. As Nick stood near the turnstiles and watched people entering the stadium he felt a trickle of warmth exit his body and soak up in the padding between his legs. Nick jumped slightly as the unexpected stream stopped just as quickly as it started. He tried to assess his nappy situation inconspicuously but couldn’t really tell how wet it was. “Why didn’t I bring a change?” Nick muttered to himself. “What’s that, buddy?” Steven’s voice came from behind Nick again. He had an unfortunate habit of doing that. “Oh, erm, it’s just pretty hot. Sweating through this shirt!” Nick let out a nervous laugh. Steven smiled at him but it seemed a little forced. Did he guess that something was wrong? “We had better get in the ground, kick-off will be soon.” Steven said as he handed the burger to Nick. The pair of them walked to the turnstiles and passed through into the building. Just inside the gates were some security personnel who seemed to be searching bags and otherwise inspecting the attendees of the match. Nick suddenly felt more nervous as he saw someone in one of the other lines getting patted down. He remembered his nappy and knew that any pat down would find it, he prayed for no awkward questions in front of Steven. “Anything in your pockets?” The bored looking male security guard asked when Nick reached the front of the line. “Just my phone, wallet and keys.” Nick replied. He suddenly felt hyper aware of the wet padding between his legs. Nick saw Steven being talked to by another guard as he was searched in a similar way. “OK Sir. Could you spread your arms and legs for a quick pat down?” The guard asked. “Erm, why?” Nick replied. “Security, Sir.” The guard replied, “Just to protect people.” Nick’s heartbeat was going faster than a race car as he held his arms out to the side and opened his legs. With his legs open in a star position, Nick could feel the heavy and wet padding hanging between them. The bottom of the nappy was heavy with urine and without his trousers would no doubt be hanging much lower. The guard patted Nick’s shirt and quickly moved downwards. Nick could feel sweat on his brow as his friend collected his stuff and waited for Nick on the other side of the security barrier. The guard moved down Nick’s shirt to his pants, he patted the sides and Nick could see a slight frown on his face as he felt something a little odd. As the guard’s hands brushed the padding on Nick’s rear he felt the guard pause for a second before pulling away. “Thank you, Sir. Collect your stuff and enjoy the game.” The guard said as he stepped back. Nick didn’t wait for him to repeat himself. He grabbed his stuff and shoved them back in his pocket, Nick stole a glance at the guard to see that he was looking back at him with a strange look. Nick was blushing and felt the guard must know what he was wearing as he moved away from the checkpoint. “What kept you?” Steven asked before adding jokingly, “Smuggling a bomb in your pants?” Nick laughed a little awkwardly as he tried to bring his body back under control. His breathing slowed down and he was able to mop his forehead a little. “Come on, the guys are already in their seats.” Steven said as he checked his phone. The stadium was starting to fill up quickly and even in the concourse the noise of those already in their seats was getting loud. Everyone looking for to the match that was only a few minutes away, thousands of people ready to cheer their teams on. As Nick followed his friend up the steps and out into the stands he felt that match day feeling run through his body. A strange mixture of excitement and nerves flowed through his body from his fingertips to his toes. His hair stood on end as he walked up the steps and followed his friend to their seats. His worries disappeared as he got lost in the atmosphere, it was a beautiful day. Nick sidled his way along the row of seats towards his other friends. Some people had to stand up to let Nick and Steven through and Nick was very careful to make sure he didn’t accidentally brush past anyone. “Well, well, well… If it isn’t Nick!” Liam, one of Nick’s usual drinking buddies said, “I thought Steven was joking when he said you had popped up again.” “Hi, Liam.” Nick said with a smile as he sat down, “Hi Shane.” “Alright?” Shane greeted Nick casually. He had never been much of a talker unless he was drunk. When he had a few drinks he lost his inhibitions completely. Nick sat down and felt the bottom of his squishy diaper press up against him. He suppressed a shudder and took a bit of the burger that Steven had bought him, he hadn’t been lying, the burger was very nice. No sooner had Nick sat down than he had to jump back to his feet as a roar from the crowd indicated that the teams were coming out. There were few things as motivating to Nick as a stadium full of noisy fans and along with everyone else he smiled and cheered as his hometown heroes walked out on to the pitch. When the referee blew the whistle to start the game, Nick really felt like he was home. He had missed enjoying the football with his friends and enjoying this atmosphere. It didn’t take long for Nick to forget all about the last few weeks, everything felt normal again. For the next forty minutes Nick booed, cheered and chanted along with the thousands of others in the stadium. “It’s good to have you back Nick.” Steven said to his friend. “I’ve missed this.” Nick replied with a wistful smile, “I’m just glad I could come back.” “What kept you away?” Liam asked, “You weren’t online or anything. We left you messages but got no response. Even phoned your wife at one point, she just said you weren’t available.” “Yeah. I was, erm… I was ill.” Nick said carefully. “What was wrong?” Shane asked with suspicion. “Come on guys.” Steven said as he leant around Nick, “This isn’t an interrogation.” “Maybe it should be.” Shane said as he sipped on his drink. “What’s that supposed to mean?” Nick asked. None of the men were paying attention to the game now and Nick was starting to feel a little hot under the collar. “I just mean that you disappeared without trace and then reappear two weeks later and just say you were “ill” but that doesn’t explain why you weren’t in contact.” Shane said, “There’s something going on and I want to know what’s up.” “I… I…” Nick could feel redness appearing in his face. Even worse, he could feel his bladder draining into his diaper again. A distractingly warm stream of urine flowing into the padding. He was really soaked now but he wasn’t paying attention to that as his three friends all looked at him with suspicion. “What’s up, Steven? You know you can talk to us.” Steven said sympathetically. “Well… The truth is…” Nick felt his heartbeat quicken. Quite frankly he wasn’t sure he could trust any of these guys to keep things quiet. Was he really going to tell them what was happening in a stadium full of people? “COME ON!” A man in front of the four friends suddenly jumped up along with everyone around them. Nick and his friends looked towards the pitch where they saw their best striker running through on the opposition goal. A couple of moments later and the stadium erupted as the striker coolly slotted the ball into the bottom right corner of the net. Nick’s friends seemed to forget about their interrogation and started jumping up and down in celebration. Nick joined in the jumping as well until he suddenly felt something trickle down his inside thigh. He immediately stopped as his eyes flew wide open. He tried to look over his shoulder at the chair he had been sitting on and saw a wet patch. Nick’s nightmare was coming true, he was leaking. Without a second thought to how it might look to anyone, Nick started scrambling towards the stairs at the end of the row of seats. He pushed past people with no second thought for their well-being and he hoped the celebration had distracted his friends long enough that they wouldn’t notice the wet patch on the back of his trousers. “Where are you…” Steven noticed that Nick had slipped away and looked down the row to see him hurrying towards the exit in a frantic state. Steven could clearly see a trail of drips following him towards the stairs. Nick had no time to worry now, he had to leave immediately. He would find some way to explain it to the guys later. Nick took the stairs two at a time and turned into the concourse. It was virtually empty as most people were watching the game but there were a few early leavers who watched the man run past with confusion. With tears forming in his eyes he couldn’t believe he had let himself leak like this. Why wasn’t someone here to make sure he had a change of nappy with him? “God damn it.” Nick cursed as he ran down the steps towards the parking lot with heat rising in his face and trickling down his legs. This was all Sarah’s fault. She should have reminded him that he needed a change and that he would have to be careful. She was always the one that took care of his nappies and this was why. She had been slacking in her duties to her husband. “I can’t be expected to sort out my own nappies!” Nick thought, “I’m just a baby.” Nick suddenly stopped halfway down one of the many staircases. His face went even redder as he realised where his thoughts were going. He just admitted that he considered himself a baby… It must have been the stress of the situation, Nick decided, there was no way that he would think like that normally. He was an adult. A big strong man that didn’t need anyone taking care of him. Nick heard voices above and below him and realised that half time must be here and he needed to get to the car park before people started filling the stairs. He hurried down the rest of the stairs and showed his ticket to the car park attendant who let him through to the parking garage with a look of curiosity on his face. Nick thought he heard the parking attendant say something as he hurried away but he had no idea if he imagined it, he certainly wouldn’t stop to find out. Getting into his car, Nick finally paused and put his head on the steering wheel. He felt humiliated and knew that his presence would be missed soon. In fact, as soon as he had that thought he felt a vibration in his pocket. He pulled out his phone to see a text from Steven. Nick’s first thought was to chuck the phone on the passenger seat but instead he decided to look at what his best friend had to say. “I know what’s going on.” Nick blinked a couple of times as he stared at the words on his phone’s screen. Did Steven really know? Taking a deep breath, Nick threw the phone down and turned on the engine. He backed out of his parking space and drove towards the exit. Right now, he didn’t care who knew what, he just had to get to Sarah as soon as possible.

Why does it make a difference? I'm trans and I go to pride wearing diapers every year. Hell, I wear diapers every day 24/7. Pride is about who you are, not about what people perceive you to be. If you wear diapers, are LGBTQ, or whatever, enjoy it, and flip the bird to those that don't!!

That is exactly how some ABDLs feel. To them this isn't some sexual fetish or kink, it's a lifestyle and it's who they are.

I am assuming it must have had something due to allowing children in the forums. I was mysteriously banned a year or year and a half or so after the kids were banned. I was there during that time and it was well managed, and a lot of youngsters got support. Obviously it limited allowed discussions that we have here with nothing sexual. My guess is some parent found out there little darling wore diapers, went through the computer and found out they were hanging out with a bunch of sickos online and stirred up trouble. Leading to dropping minors. Can't imagine they had much legal trouble or they would have simply shut the site down rather then hassle with it. To be clear, the WORST thing a parent can do is over react over there childs sexuality. Wears diapers, Gay, has an older but appropriate young partner..what ever. I bet you money that is what happened.

So I'd originally tried to upload more pics on my last update and wasnt able to get them to load some of them still won't but I found one other that would. So here is pic of the DC Amor after just a couple of hours. Hopefully I'll get the tapes right on my next one so it's not so weird on my booty.

Given that I have been profoundly urinary incontinent since I turned 21, for me some kind of diaper is necessary 24/7! I reverted to bedwetting just after puberty in 1976. Our family still had a sturdy changing table so I used it when pinning my gauze diapers. I experimented putting a changing pad on beds, but found that frustrating. For me when a changing table was not available I prefer to put the changing pad on the floor. When I left home for university I knew I would have to learn to put on and sleep in Attends. That was 1981, before I ever saw any other brand of adult diapers. The nurse at my urologist showed me how to put on Attends while standing, using a wall to hold the back in place. Later in my dorm I learned to put on Attends in bed. Currently usually during the day I wear GoodNites Tru-Fit. For me they work better than classic GoodNites. An advantage is that if I soak the disposable liner I have learned to change those while standing without removing my shoes. At home our master bedroom features a custom-made adult changing table with a step stool. I recline on that either to self-change or have my gauze diapers pinned by my loving husband Don. Of course, just as when I was young, my gauze diapers are covered by soft pull-on vinyl panties. Of course my entire life, even after I was toilet trained, my bed has had a waterproof sheet.

Today is a Saturday, so I am at home with my loving husband/"Daddy" Don. I am wearing pinned DyDee gauze diapers inside Babykins soft pull-on vinyl panties.

Cloth diaper and a new plastic pant. Feels good, smells good and looks good.

Just a girl in her diaper