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Shotgun Diplomat

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About Shotgun Diplomat

  • Rank
    Strong like ox, smart like stump
  • Birthday 01/24/1991

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  • Diapers
    Diaper Lover
  • I Am a...
    Boy
  • Age Play Age
    Not my bag, sorry.

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  • Gender
    Male
  • Location
    Canada, British Columbia, Victoria
  • Real Age
    Refer to birth date above

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    https://fetlife.com/users/3818504

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  1. The feels... Man why you go and do that? I was really hoping that all was going to be sunshine, lollipops and rainbows for them from here on out, and you go and drop that on us. Damn. Well done, making me have the feels.
  2. That was great. It is really nice to see them actually develop as a couple. This is one of my favourite stories currently on this forum, thank-you for posting this.
  3. I am good, but not that good. Some of the antique models throw me for a loop. Barnburner has never found the limits to his poetic endeavours. Feels compelled to write in iambic pentameter.
  4. Barn Burner watches movies featuring arson and critiques their burning techniques. "Too much gad...Not enough Combustibles...etc."
  5. Thanks man. I am glad you like it thus far.
  6. ^ Once aided the cool-aid man in a break and enter. The result? Years of painful physical therapy. He ain't no cool-aid man.
  7. Well that blows for the SCI for you man, I am sorry to hear that. I have been reasonably lucky with my health for the last couple of years and pray to God that it stays that way. I hate hospitals. If I were to write what I knew it would involve only hunting, fishing, guns, classical literature, pipefitting, and forklifts. My knowledge base is somewhat limited in scope.
  8. ^ Will only sleep with airline pillows. Has a wide and varied collection for all the different carriers.
  9. Well that was excellent. I am really happy that things are going so well for the both of them, both personally and in their school/public lives. You have crafted some really lovable characters here, and I thank-you for it. I am curious, Maddy seems to be getting along better mobility wise, but is the cane going to turn into a psychological need more so than a physical one?
  10. Part VI I am standing alone in my living room, Emily having just left my place. Our first date? I think it went pretty good. I walk over to the liquor cabinet and pour myself a hefty drink. I sit-down on the couch and relax. Finishing my drink I stand, check my diaper (all good there), and go to bed. Saturday passes with nothing of any real interest happening, I wake up, etc. I do go back to the gym, if I am going to do this I am going to do this right. No sparring today, just cardio, weights and bag time. Tony, is there and acts as trainer. It takes a real sadist to be a boxing trainer. Finishing up at the gym, I change and hit the town. I need some new outfits for work and play, and having just got paid, I can afford them. I cruise about the boutique shops, and see nothing that I like or can afford. So, I go to The Bay. This is more fitting me. I pick up some nice trousers, and skirts. A few more tops. I avoid the lingerie section, not really my scene. Getting home, I pack away all my new clothes, I needed to bulk out my closet. My phone rings. “Hello?” “Hi Ais, it’s Gillian. A couple of the girls from around the school are going out to a movie and drinks tonight. Interested?” I had nothing else to do and getting to know my co-workers on a more social level would be good, so I agree. “Perfect! Pick you up at 1815. Sound good?” “Sure thing, sounds like a plan; see you then.” I hang-up the phone and try to find someway to occupy the rest of my afternoon. I do. Soon enough it is time to get ready for the show. I go to my room and start prepping my new diaper. I take a booster out and lay it in the diaper, making sure that it is contained within the leak guards. I remove my used diaper, give myself a thorough wiping off and re-cream, re-powder, and re-tape. My most dangerous parts are once again safely contained. I go to the sink and wash my hands. Getting dressed, I decide to try out one my new outfits. It works well I think. My diaper bulge is noticeable, but not overly so. Besides, that hardly bothers me. I put on my shoes, and await the call. It comes, and I go downstairs. Gillian is at the door. I exit the building and walk with her to her car. “That is a nice top you have on there. Is it new?” “Yeah, I just got it today. I was running short on combinations, and work clothes are kinda drab and boring. So, I decided to splurge.” “Well you have good taste.” “Thanks” We got to her car, it was a nice sporty Benz. I don’t know much about cars, but what I did know, just from looking at it, is that it was fast. I was not wrong. We arrived a concerningly short time later at the bar and I unclenched my hands from the fine suede seats. I must have had a look on my face. Gillian remarked that I looked tense. “You think? This is not Les Mans here Gill, it is a city street. We are just lucky that there were no speed traps about, or you would have been screwed.” “Oh, I don’t worry about that, my husband is a police detective. Any tickets I get for speeding or parking get taken care of by him. Not that I abuse the privilege at all. Wink wink.” It is good to know that there are somethings that don’t change the world over, cops do favours for other cops. Not fair, if I were to drive like that I would have been strung up by my heels and beaten. Well, not much I can do about it anyways. I am still looking for a beater to call my own. We walk into the restaurant and sit at the bar to await the arrival of the others. As we wait we make small talk. Gill asks the question that so far, she has refrained from asking. “So, the diapers?” “And?” “What is it like? I mean I understand the physics behind it, I am just curious to know how it feels to rely on an external object for protection. I mean I use pads for my periods, but what is it really like, to use them for everything?.” “You get used to it, I mean it has been so long for me now I can’t really remember any other way. It started when I was 12, and by 15 I was wearing these.” I make a general motion to my diaper area. “That’s over 10 years Gill, long time. I don’t love it (a lie), but I have gotten used to it, and I have grown to appreciate what they do for me.” “That was a very well put answer Ais, sort of like accepting that you need them, and living with that fact.” “Exactly” We cheers out drinks. I am a little curious what piqued the question, I mean she has had all week to ask me at work, why wait? As I am mulling this over the second group of girls arrives, seeing each other we stand, pay, and head towards the theatre. While we are walking, I feel my diaper warm slightly. I am nowhere near leaking, I ignore it. Arriving at the theatre, we get our tickets and take our seats. The movie is the sort of corny, Nicholas Sparks type stuff that we girls really go in for. As per the formula we are all misty eyed by the end. I hate how one man has made so many things to bring us to tears, bastard. He has a licence to print money with that power. We stand up after the show and leave the theatre. As we are walking I see a car parked outside the bar we were headed to. I feel my heart rate go through the roof. I start hyper-ventilating. I know that there is nothing wrong, or suspicious about that car in particular, but all the same I am freaking out over here. I stop walking. The rest of the group continues on. I am standing there on the sidewalk just staring at that car and having a panic attack. I thought I had this beat, fuck. After a couple of paces Gill starts looking around, spotting me behind the group she makes a ‘come on’ gesture. I just stand there. Looking confused, she yells. “Ais? You good?” What am I going to say? That I am having a serious meltdown back here. Play it cool. “Ye-yeah! Jus had to tie my shoe.” “Well come on then.” “Sure just give me a moment.” I kneel down and pretend to tie my shoe. Gill and the group are waiting on me. Time to force myself to move. I rise and start walking towards them, and the car. I stop again. Gill looks confused. “You sure you’re okay Ais?” “Gill, can I speak with you for a moment?” Gill starts walking towards me, with a somewhat annoyed look on her face. She gets up close to me, and sees the sweat pouring down my face. Her annoyance turns to concern. “You don’t look so hot Ais, are you sure you are okay?” “Gill, I am going to need your help with something, kind of embarrassing.” “What?” There is a note of cautious distaste in her voice. “I need you to hold my hand and help me get into the bar. That car is really giving me flashbacks. I know that there is nothing wrong with it, but you need to help me. Can you do that?” “Yeah, sure. Why are you having flashbacks? Acid scab fall off or something?” She says in a lighthearted manner. This is no time for humour. “Gillian. This is no time for humour, help me get into the bar, and I will tell you okay. Just help me.” I say it like an order, and she obeys. We get into the bar, and as son as we do I run to the loo. I am going to be sick. I am. Leaving the stall, I see Gill standing there at the sink. She looks really worried. “Okay, so what the hell was that about? Flashbacks, nausea?” “I have some minor mental health issues, I am working through them.” “Oh? Care to share them?” I don’t really want to. Talking about them always makes me feel worse, it is easier to bury them deep. Deal with the consequences. I thought that Ben and I had gotten a handle on this one. I guess it slipped. “Okay.” That takes me by surprise, why did I say that? “Good. I am going to tell the girls that you are sick, and I am taking you home. Then you can talk to me.” She goes to the table and explains the situation to the others. I get some sympathetic waves, and Gill starts walking back over towards me. We leave the bar, and that car is still there. Curiously enough it is not bothering me anymore. I have no explanation for that one. We get to my flat and I let her in. It is nothing fancy, I mean it is a two bedroom flat. What more needs to be said? Either way she is in my place. I close the door. “Okay, spill. What the hell was all that about?” “Do you want a drink? I am getting one.” I walk over the liquor shelf and pour myself a heavy-handed Jamison’s. I get rocks. I take a deep drink. Gill is staring at me. I am just putting off the story. Well here is goes. “You know I am Irish right?” “Right.” “Do you know where in Ireland I am from?” “Dublin?” I assume given her answer she is unaware of any other large cities on the Irish Isle. “I am from Belfast.” “Okay.” “Well back when I was growing up there was and still is a lot of tension between social groups in my hometown. Have you ever heard of the Irish Republican Army?” “Yes, I have.” “Well they and their equally violent, but far lesser known counterparts the Ulster Volunteer Force. Used to detonate bombs that were placed in parked cars. Generally, they gave a warning phone call. To allow people to leave. Sometimes they didn’t. I was caught up in the latter when I was 18 years old.” “OhmyGod! That must have been terrible!” “Yes it was” I can feel the emotion rising in my chest, I am going to cry. Hold it together Aisling! “The concussion, threw me 20 feet. Broke my leg, and fractured my skull. It also left me with some rather interesting souvenirs in my abdomen.” I lift my shirt a bit, exposing the waistband of my diaper, as well as several of my scars. The scars are from shrapnel. Doctors removed most of what they could find. There is still some in there. I lower my shirt again, hiding them. “Oh Aisling. I am so sorry you had to go through that. That must have been terrible!” “It was. It left me broken, and scarred. The physical ones healed readily enough, the mental ones not so quickly. I saw a therapist for a couple of years after, he helped me. Gave me some coping strategies.” As a sick joke, I rattle the ice in my drink. Ben did not advocate self medicating with alcohol. That is my choosing. “But every now and then, something triggers it. Like a parked car, or smell, or a sound. The memories come right back to the front, and I freeze. I am okay now, just a little embarrassed.” “Wow, that sucks. You have a really good reason. I just don’t know what that must have been like for you. I mean wow, I am so sorry.” “Thanks Gill. Actually, it felt good to talk about it. You are the first person to whom I have told that story, other my Mum, and therapist. Thanks.” “You’re welcome Ais. I think I will take you up on that drink now. But first may I use your bathroom?” “Sure, it is the second door on your right.” She gets up from the couch, and walks over there. While she is doing whatever it is she is doing in there. I freshen up my drink, and pour her one. I hear the toilet flush. That is probably the first time since I moved into this flat that it has been used for its intended purpose. I mean I use the toilet, old soup, or bad noodles, they get the sewer treatment. I just don’t use it for that. I can’t. I check my diaper, pretty wet, but not too bad. Gill comes back and takes her seat. I give her the drink and we sit and enjoy. She takes and experimental sip, and I see her face contort. I had her pegged as a wine or cocktail girl, I think I am right. “Drink okay? I have some beer in the fridge if you would prefer.” “No thanks.” Cough “It is just that it has been a while since I drank whiskey. Normally I go for cosmos or wine” I knew it. Cosmos? Gross. The ultimate in Girley drinks. “Well, I can’t help you there I am afraid, what I can do is freshen that up for you.” Before she has time to refuse I top it up with some more raw spirit. I took away her evening with friends, the least I can do is get her somewhat liquored in payment. The drinks flow, and Gill is pretty far gone. I am still okay, I can drink. I mean Tony, might be able to outdrink me, but he has me on the body weight. That is an unfair advantage. Eventually Gill goes home, she has the presence of mind to use one of those designated driver services. I ma glad about that. After she is gone, I change and go to bed. Not the night I had planned. Sunday comes and goes, with nothing really of interest. I phone Emily, we plan another date for Saturday. We are going on a little trip to the woods. I am excited, I mean I have never been to the great Canadian forest, this is gong to be cool. I go back to the gym, do it right or don’t. More weights and cardio, and a small sparring session. Nobody getting carted off in an ambulance today. Johnny is back from furlough. Still not allowed to fight, but he is at least allowed to do bag work. I walk up to him. “Hey Johnny, feeling better?” “Huh? Yeah, thanks. Still got a little headache, but you gave me a wicked ring to the dome there. I am lucky I didn’t get short term memory loss. The changeup was really cool, put he zap on me in a hard way, I mean I couldn’t adjust to that.” “Thanks Johnny, you are a pretty decent fighter yourself. I was wondering why you threw that haymaker in the first though?” “Actually, it is because I was trying to get out of the ring as fast as possible, I thought you were going to be a less than challenging adversary so I was trying to take the easy way out. It didn’t work.” “Nope, it did not. Tell you what though. You got some good reach on you, if you had managed to keep me at a distance, and chip away at me, I think it may have been a different outcome. I am in shit shape, and I am an inside fighter. Keeping me at a distance is the only way to win. “Inside fighter you not, your cross is wicked, and your jabs are like trucks. What is your secret?” I show him my hands, they are brutal looking for a woman who is not a labourer or carpenter. Full of scars, and lumpy knuckles. I have broken my hands so often that they had to put metal plates in to keep me from recessing the knuckles any further. Give me a tonne of extra weight for throwing. It hasn’t ruined me from being a nurse, but let’s just say that fine needlework is not in my future. “Okay, I see how you throw so hard now.” “Yeah, bit of a double-edged sword, fucked up hands, but heavy. Anyhow, I got to go, glad you are feeling better Johnny!” I take off from the gym and start my walk home, stopping by the shops I get some light groceries. My theory is this, if I shop a day at a time, I don’t really need to worry about carting a whole tonne of stuff home. Many little trips, as opposed to one big one. By shopping small I am able to frequent the speciality deli’s and such that I love so much. Also, it lets me shop local, something I am a huge fan of, if people are going to assume all the risk and have a go at a business, especially a business I love, I will do what I can to help them out at it. Getting home, I put the groceries away. My diaper is done. I took a hell of risk not changing it after the gym, and going by the shops afterward. It was a serious gamble. I didn’t leak, but my diaper sort of exploded inside. You know that squishy stuff that actually does the absorbing. Well right now I am covered in it. Time for a shower. I get a new diaper out and prep it. Instead of taking my old one off I un-snap the panty and walk into the loo, stepping into the shower. It is only then I unstrap my diaper. I am covered in little beads, fuck I hate these things they are such a pain to get down the drain. I shower up and start trying to corral them down the drain. After finishing that I walk back to my diaper, and tape up. Feeling fresh, I start preparations for dinner. Not 5 minutes into making dinner I mess. Seriously? I just put this one. Fuck. One of the inconveniences of incontinence, total unpredictability. I mean it was not my large mess of the day, but it was a mess not withstanding. I stop what I am doing. One thing I cannot do is cook in a dirty diaper, that is just gross. Sitting in it, for a while fine. Cooking, not a chance. I change, as I do so I think to myself, what a waste of a diaper. I make dinner. Not bad, just some spaghetti and red-sauce. No meat this time, I couldn’t be bothered. I wash up and grab a smoke on the balcony. I fritter away the rest of the night, change again and go to sleep. Monday is coming.
  11. Not that I have any advice for you per say rather I just want to say that you are probably right about the reactions or lack there of. I mean when you first wrote a story people were all gung-ho. "A new writer on site, and his stuff is actually readable".Everybody who wanted to left a comment. Now as you have posted more, and more,and your writing has improved, people are used to it. They are just used to having your posts around, they read them, sometimes people comment but sometimes they don't. The way I would look at it is don't go by the quantity of comments you receive, but the quality. One comment giving thoughtful insight into the plot or making a valid point is worth ten that are just "Wow, good, moar plz". Just my two cents. By the way I love the 'Fifth Column' it is really good, moar plz.
  12. Not going anywhere. It was a one-shot. I just felt like writing something totally fucked. So I did. This is a re-edit of a story I posted on this forum earlier.
  13. I dare say that Danielson will be requiring that they stay padded as well. Seeing as they failed a remedial potty program and it would appear on their transcripts. I do hope so. Great update man, thanks a bunch.
  14. Glad you are enjoying it so far. Going to be a while before I update. Work is going to be a pain this week, so I doubt I will have anything substantial written up by the week-end.
  15. ^Thinks that Jar-jar Binks deserves far more screen time in the prequel trilogy.