willnotwill

The airport here in Charlotte has an electric height adjusting changing table in the A terminal. Hopefully they'll expand this. I know Baltimore, Orlando, and Boston also have them now. The Kansas City zoo has adult changing provisions.

I was a regular at Walgreens because it was next to my house and they seemed responsive (I had to do a special deal where a prescription for my mother was faxed to mine and I had to pick it up and FedEx it to her in Canada). Now the local grocery store (Publix) is closest and I just go there for most things.

My dentist never had me get undressed. My wife kidded me about wearing a full up diaper to the ENT. I said if he looks down there, he's looking in the wrong place. Unless he's like Dr. Kim from Scrubs.

The whole movie is a horrible stereotype.

No, they end up with a spell that makes them older. Julie Benz's character ends up incontinent in a stereotype of old age.

https://www.thisiswhyimbroke.com/bean-bag-onesies/

Wow, now we know who Mike Pence really is!

https://www.essentiallysports.com/nba-basketball-news-latest-health-concern-is-forcing-shaquille-oneal-to-sell-diapers/

It was called Summer School (at least on my computer). I can't find it on DD, probably eaten in one of the crashes. Unfortunately bulk pasting seems to be now hosed (keeps changing things into images for some reason), so here's it as a PDF Summer School.pdf

Well, for the longest time, I also thought I was alone. Then I tripped across the CompuServe HumanSexuality forums in about 1986 or so. Then I learned about the (preInternet) DPF guys as well. Even before the internet proper was a thing, there was alt.sex.fetish.diapers on the USENET and I spent a lot of time there posting stories and the like. '

Many of the store branded diapers are the same company. You can tell as the styles change in lock step.

Story posted:

IGHT DEFENDER First Lieutenant Jimmy Ossa stood up with pride. He had finished the last phase of his flight training. Eight weeks of basic training followed by six months of heavy class work, flight training in single-engine turboprops, high-altitude training, and all the regular military stuff. Still, he had come through with distinction. They’d even promoted him from second looey to first. The last few days had been a bunch of testing, written aptitude tests, interviews, and flight checks. The whole goal was to figure out where he would be assigned next. Of course, he had his preferences. He wanted to do his advanced training on the fighter track. That would put him in line for one of the fighter squadrons. He’d like F-16s, it was watching those as a kid made him want to join the Air Force or maybe the F-22, but he’d take any of the fighters. Then, he could end up in bombers, transports, or tankers. He held his breath when the orders were finally handed out. 1LT JAMES E. OSSA WILL REPORT ON OR BEFORE FEBRUARY 15 TO THE 714TH TACTICAL SQUADRON BOYD AFB He stood with a start. This wasn’t advanced training. It was an assignment directly to a squadron. What was the 714TH? It must be a training squadron or something. He got on a computer. What did they fly? He didn’t find too much on the squadron other than that they were at Boyd AFB and flew F/A-69s. What on earth was that? He’d never heard of that. February 15? That’s tomorrow. He ran back to the barracks, stuffed his stuff in a duffle, and headed to the MAC desk. “You’re lucky, sir,” the Sergeant said. Jimmy still wasn’t used to being called “sir,” especially not by enlisted men a dozen years older than him. “C-130 departing for Boyd in about thirty minutes. The next one won’t be for two days.” Jimmy checked in for the flight, and someone took his bag, and eventually, he and a couple of others were led out to the C130. Now, these planes are workhorses and not designed to be airliners. But after takeoff, he wandered up to the cockpit. The flight engineer let him sit in his jump seat between the two pilots. He talked with the pilots who were receptive to him after they found he’d just completed primary. He asked if they knew anything about the 714th. “Secret stuff going there. Nobody talks about what happens at Boyd.” Soon it was time to land, and he returned to his seat. He was so excited. He still didn’t know where Boyd AFB was. He hadn’t had a chance to ask. The 130 landed, the large rear cargo door dropped, and he walked down. A corporal walked up to him and saluted. “Lieutenant Ossa.” Jimmy returned the salute and was led to a car. “The colonel said he’d like to see you once you’ve been processed. I’m to take you to the supply depot to get your things, and then we’ll drop them in your room, and I’ll take you to his office. Don’t worry about your gear. We’ll have it sent over to your quarters.” Jimmy nodded. This was like so many things in the Air Force, but at least it was hurry-up without the waiting. Finally, they got to the depot. A bored corporal at the desk asked, “Name?” without looking up from his papers. “Ossa, James,” Jimmy said. “You have a callsign you want to use?” He had been given a callsign in primary. He thought it was OK but hoped he’d get something classier. “Boneman,” he stated. He had been given that because ‘Ossa’ meant bone. He was shuffled through to the supply room. The clerk handed him a lot of stuff that he placed in a box they had provided. One was going to be a flight suit. There was other stuff he couldn’t identify. He was shuffled down the hall. “One last thing,” the corporal said. You get your Tango-Bravo, and I’ll take you to your quarters. He walked into a room and got the shock of his life. The corporal was talking to a tech sarge in the room. “First Loot Ossa, James” the corporal announced. The sergeant looked through the collection of Tango Bravos and brought the seemingly right one over. Not that Jimmy could see any difference. The entire room was filled with what appeared to be Teddy Bears. "These are not toys, son.” He held up the bear in front of him. “This is a TB-1000 pilot support unit. It is the most advanced artificial intelligence pilot tool in this or any other Air Force. Now, please, squeeze its paw.” Jimmy was leery. They had got to be kidding. He had never heard of such a thing, but it was becoming apparent that there were a lot of stuff at Boyd he hadn’t heard of. He squeezed the paw and stood back, not knowing what was about to happen. “Greetings, Boneman. TB-1000 ready for operation, “ the bear said as it came to life. “What do I do with this teddy bear?” Jimmy said to the sergeant. “I’m equipped to handle any number of support activities for you. Would you like to hear your to-do list for today?” the bear replied. “Umm, OK,” said an astonished Jimmy. “You need to check into the barracks and meet your crew chief. The CO would like to see you after you’ve done that. You also have the first section of the F/A-69 instruction course to review for tomorrow.” Jimmy was amazed at this device, but still couldn’t they have given him an iPad or something. Why a bear? “If you’ll follow me,” the corporal continued. Jimmy threw the bear on top of the other supplies and followed the enlisted man out of the building. They moved across a tidy complex to a barracks. There were several people sitting in the office, and the corporal strode up to one and said, “This is Lieutenant Ossa.” “I’ll take him from here,” a young woman in uniform stated. “Boneman, I’m Sergeant Rosen. I’m your crew chief. I’ll show you to our quarters. Let me take the box. You hold on to the bear.” Well, this is interesting. He’d seen a couple of female crew chiefs back in primary training but didn’t think he’d be assigned one. She was older than him, though not by much. He followed her down the hall and up the stairs, and she stopped in front of the door bearing both their names. Her first name was Ruth according to the name plaque. “Here’s home for the duration.” “Thank you, Sergeant.” “Boneman, let me prepare you. Things are different in the Defenders. “ “OK, Sergeant, or do I call you Rosen or Ruth or what?” “Most pilots call their crew chiefs, Mommy or Daddy, as appropriate.” “Mommy?” he thought. She pushed open the door. There was a small room with two desks, each with a computer. Two doors led off that. She pointed at the left door. “This is my bedroom here.” Then, pushing open the other door she said, “And this one’s yours.” On one side was a cabinet or a dresser of some kind but the top was covered with some sort of padding. On the other side was the second shock of the day. Rather than your standard rack, there was what appeared to be a giant crib. “What’s this?” “That’s where you’ll sleep.” “I’ll take care of stowing your stuff. But we need to get you into your flight suit so you can meet the CO,” Rosen said. “I think I can dress myself,” Jimmy said. “May I speak freely,” Rosen said. “Yes.” “You’re the third pilot I’ve been crew chief for. I know what you think you know about how squadrons work, and you may even be right for most. However, the 714TH isn’t your average squadron. We have a specific mission, and we do things differently. It would be easier at this point if you just went along with what me and your Tango Bravo tell you.” He thought about it. He was about to protest that he should be taking his lead from a non-com and a robotic teddy bear? But she was right. Nothing he had done or learned so far had prepared him for any of this. “What do you want me to do?” he asked. “Strip out of that uniform.” He paused to protest but then complied. She had him strip out of his underwear and then patted the padded top of the dresser. “Put your ass here.” He climbed up on the table, and she directed him to lie down. She reached into one of the drawers and pulled something out. Deftly she slid it under him and between his legs. WTF, he thought. This was a diaper. He started to protest, but she just held up a finger. Following that she slid plastic pants over the top of it. Finally, she shook out one of the packages that was in the box from the supply depot. It was a full-length flight suit, and she helped him into the bottom of it. It was different from the ones he had worn before in two ways. First, it was a soft material compared to what he had been used to. Certainly comfortable, but functional? Second, it had feet attached to it. He stood up as Rosen zipped him up. While it bore his name and insignia and squadron patches, looking in the mirror, it was clear. He was wearing pajamas. Specifically, a small child’s sleeper. The bear spoke “Boneman. The colonel would like to know if you can make it in ten minutes.” Jimmy looked at Rosen. She nodded. He told the bear we were on our way. “Take him with you,” she said. He swept up the bear and followed her lead. “You should give him a name,” she said. “It makes things easier.” “He sort of looks like one of my instructors from primary. His name was Buzz. I’ll call him Fuzz. Tango-Bravo,” he started. “You will now be known as Fuzz.” “Fuzz, ready for duty” the bear replied. Rosen smiled for the first time since Jimmy had met her. They passed others en route. Some in normal AF uniforms, some dressed like him. Finally, they were in the colonel’s office. He reached out to shake Jimmy’s hand. “Welcome to the 714th,” the commander said. “I know everything is a bit strange to you at this point but let me tell you that you have been hand chosen to be in one of the most select units in the force. Listen to Rosen here. She’s the best mommy we’ve ever had.” He called her a ‘mommy.’ “Anyway, we’ve got an hour before chow. Rosen, why don’t you take him out for an initial fam with his plane.” Now Jimmy was interested. He hadn’t learned anything about the plane he would be flying. His plane. Rosen led me out to a hangar, and we entered and walked down a row of planes until we came to one and stopped. “Here she is,” Rosen said. “I know the captain said, ‘your plane,’ but this is my plane. I just let you pilots fly it.” He walked around it. Reaching the front of the canopy, he found Jimmy ‘Boneman’ Ossa painted on the side. His plane. Rosen took Fuzz and installed him in the cockpit. She then motioned for Jimmy to climb into the cockpit. He slid into the seat. He knew this was an ejection seat. The primary trainers didn’t have them, but this was the real deal. She helped fasten him in. Frankly, it felt, for all purposes, like he was being strapped into a kid’s car seat. She handed him a helmet, and he put it on. “I’m going to close the canopy,” she yelled at him. “Ask Fuzz for a fam check.” The canopy slid into place, and he was closed into the aircraft. “Fuzz?” he spoke into my helmet. “Ready,” the bear responded over the intercom. “Fam Check.” “This is an F/A 69 Tactical Aircraft, the most advanced in the arsenal. It’s powered by two turbofan engines capable of 40,000 pounds of thrust. She is capable of Mach 2.5 on the high end but remains controllable down to 40 knots. Since the Defenders operate at night in low visibility, the aircraft operates primarily through synthetic vision.” Suddenly the cockpit sprung to life around him. A crosshatch appeared to float in front of me as well as a traditional HUD display and tapes. Fuzz proceeded to brief on the capability of the aircraft and its weaponry. It was a lot to take in. “Any questions,” Fuzz asked. “Yes, Fuzz. Do you have the service record of Sergeant Rosen?” “Affirmative,” he replied. “Brief me.” “Sergeant Rosen enlisted out of high school eight years ago. She was assigned to the 714th six years ago. The first crew pilot requested a transfer after the first mission. Her second pilot flew 22 missions before he was killed in the line of duty. She subsequently applied for a transfer, but it was denied. She remained a crew chief and was assigned a new pilot, you.” He let this sink in. She had a pilot she was chiefing for failed to come back from a mission. That must be rough. After a long pause, Fuzz broke the silence. “Chow is in fifteen minutes. We should terminate this session.” “Yes, sir.” “Open the canopy and shut down.” “Yes, sir.” The moment the canopy opened, Rosen was up helping him unstrap from the seat. He removed my helmet and dropped it back on the seat. She handed him Fuzz, and he climbed down. She closed the canopy and followed. “Chow’s this way,” she said. They got to the mess hall and moved to an area that was clearly for the flight crews. He surmised this not just because there were pilots in similar flight suits, accompanied by Tango Bravo units with crew chiefs fussing around them, but that the pilots all were sitting in what appeared to be high chairs. “Hop up here,” Rosen said. He took in this entire view and with a resigned, “Yes, Sergeant,” She snapped a tray in front of him and then proceeded around the back of him and swung something around my neck. A bib! He looked at the other pilots. Yes, they were similarly attired. Rosen disappeared for a minute and came back with a tray. She set down a plate of food and some utensils and a sippy cup full of some liquid. The Captain arrived. The crew chiefs snapped to attention. The pilots did similarly to the extent they could, restrained in their chairs. “At ease,” the Captain said. “Before we get started, I’d like to welcome Boneman, our latest pilot assigned to the squadron. He’s just started his aircraft fam, but we expect to have him flying missions in the next few days. He talked about some administrative stuff which Boneman didn’t fully comprehend and then ran down the report times for the various missions to be run tonight. True to what Fuzz had told him, the missions started at various times, but no earlier than 2000 hours. Jimmy guessed that the squadron was largely on a nocturnal schedule. He was starving, so he started wolfing down the stuff in front of him. The chow wasn’t bad for military stuff. It clearly appeared to be breakfast, but that was understandable if most of the crews were just getting up for the night’s mission. He sipped at the cup. It appeared to be milk, but oddly sweet. The pilot in the next chair swung a hand toward him. “Boneman, is it?” He shook his hand, “Yes, Jimmy Ossa, Boneman.” “I’m Doggy,” he said giving his call sign. “Welcome to the squadron. I was the junior guy until you showed up.” “How long have you been here?” Jimmy asked. “Three weeks. You get used to it fast.” Conversation chattered among the pilots and some of the crew chiefs. Occasionally someone would say something to his tango bravo. Dinner broke up, and the crews headed off to the ready room. Jimmy snatched up Fuzz and followed Rosen back to their quarters. She snapped on my computer and typed a few things. “You’ll need to set a password. Also, this icon on the desktop brings up your training materials. You need to get the first few modules before we get to bed tonight. We’re going to work on adjusting your sleep cycle. This squadron works on a night schedule. Reveille is at 1800. Jimmy sat down at the computer and went through the modules. Mostly it was systems for the F/A-69. The airplane was quite sophisticated but didn’t look like it would be that hard to fly. As Fuzz said, almost all was done by a computer simulation of what he should be seeing on the HUD. Finishing the second module, he yawned. “Finished?” Rosen asked. “Yes.” “OK, let’s get you ready for bed.” “Boneman…there’s one in my room, but that’s off limits to you except when it’s bath time. You’re wearing your toilet.” “You mean, they expect me to…” “Yes.” Rosen led him into his room and directed him on the dresser again. A changing table he now knew. She helped me out of his flight suit and took a peek at his diaper. “Still dry?” He nodded. She helped him into an even softer sleeper than the flight suit was and led him over to the crib. She opened the side and he got in. She put the side back and then handed him Fuzz. “Pleasant dreams, Boneman. Busy day tomorrow.” “Goodnight, Sergeant,” he replied. She dimmed the light and then passed out of the room and closed the door. “Fuzz?” Jimmy said. “Yes, Boneman,” the bear replied. “Can you explain why the pilots in this squadron seem to be treated as if they were babies.” “It’s because you are babies. You were specially selected because of your suitability for this role. It’s essential to our mission.” He was going to ask what mission, but I wasn’t sure that he’d understand it. He was tired, and he hugged Fuzz and fell asleep. “Boneman…” “Boneman…” “Lieutenant Ossa…” He opened my eyes upon hearing his name. Bars. Was he in some sort of jail? He sat up. “Boneman, Sergeant Rosen will be here in five to get you up for the day.” Jimmy realized it was Fuzz, his highly sophisticated pilot computer teddy bear speaking. “Thank you, Fuzz.” He remembered where he was: his crib at Boyd AFB. “What’s on the schedule for today?” He asked Fuzz. “You have until 0600 to get ready. At 0600, you will meet for dinner with the squadron. You will have two hours in the simulator and then study until 1300. You’ll have lunch, and then fly for about an hour until you have your nap.” “My nap?” “Your schedule is designed to transition you to the squadron’s night mission schedule. You’ll nap until just before the squadron rises for their breakfast and mission briefing. After the squadron departs, you’ll have your first test operational flight.” “Wow,” he thought to himself. Things are going fast. He had to pee, so he figured he’d better do so before Rosen got in. He spent some time trying to get relaxed, but soon got the flow going. He felt the warmth of spread through his crotch. Soon she was there, and she had him up on the table and got the sleeper and diaper off. “I’ve got your bath ready.” His bath? OK, go with the flow. She lead him through her neat room to the bathroom and sat him down in the tub. After washing him well, she got a razor out and started to shave him. “I really can do some of this myself,” he suggested. “Nope, you pilots need to be taken care of.” “OK, Mommy,” he said with a small amount of sarcasm. He was dried off and rediapered and in his flight suit and they made our way to the mess. The crews looked tired but were in good spirits. “Trainee on deck,” someone stated, and the conversation shifted. There were some things he wasn’t supposed to know. After Rosen locked the tray on his highchair in place, he talked to Doggy. “How’d it go today?” “About the same. Was a good mission. Are you flying tonight?” “Yeah, they have me on a test mission.” “Good, you’ll find that fun, I hope.” Rosen returned with a steak and fries. She proceeded to cut up the steak for Jimmy but left him to eat it myself. Again, it was washed down with the milk in the sippy cup. He still hadn’t placed the taste. Maybe goat's milk or something, or it had something added to it. He spent the morning studying. The key to Night Defender missions seemed to be that they take place beyond some sort of barrier. He initially thought that this was the sound barrier, but the way things were worded it didn’t sound like what he knew of supersonic flight. Flight beyond the barrier was reputed to be visually disturbing, so pilots would black out their canopy and fly solely on the synthetic vision images. OK, he assumed this would make sense as we got on missions. He got to the simulator room, and the instructor pilot was named Red. Jimmy was seated in what appeared to be another F/A-69 cockpit. Fuzz was strapped in behind him. Red was always in his ear. Red ran through the procedures Jimmy had already studied, and they practiced a few simulated takeoffs and landings. “Use the bear to help you. He can run checklists and let you know where you are in your flight plan”, Red advised. “Thanks.” They then simulated crossing the barrier. Jimmy pushed a button, and the canopy when dark except for the projected heads-up displays. “Now, this ain’t nothing like the real thing,” Red advised. “But, you’ll get the basic procedure down.” They flew around a bit on the synthetic vision, and he blew some simulated targets up. Soon it was over, and Rosen placed him in a high chair for lunch. He was given a sandwich, but he wasn’t really hungry. He was going to fly for real next. Finally giving up, Rosen took him back to quarters for a diaper change. Then they went to the ready room. Red was there, and he told Jimmy that this afternoon was just basic airmanship practice. Takeoffs, recoveries, basic acro to get the feel of the plane. Fuzz would be loaded with the list of tasks. “He’ll tell you what to do, but he’s not an instructor, so you’re really on your own.” “Mount him up,” Red told Rosen, who had just returned to the ready room. Rosen wheeled over a chair. Well, call it a stroller. Jimmy understood and sat in it, and she pushed him out to his plane. She strapped him into the plane seat and put Fuzz in his spot behind him. He reached down and pushed the lever, and the canopy came down. Rosen was standing just ahead of the plane. “Fuzz, give me the starting checklist.” Fuzz read off the items, and Jimmy performed the tasks. We got down to “Area Clear.” He repeated that. Rosen gave a swirl of the hand, which meant OK for engine start. The aircraft roared to life. He called the tower “Defender 21…Ramp, Ready” “Defender 21 Taxi to and hold short of Runway 15.” Jimmy acknowledged it. He looked at Rosen, and she gave him a thumbs up as he started the plane to the runway. He got there and got takeoff clearance, and off he went. The thing launched twice as fast as anything he’d flown before. Fuzz gave him the next maneuver, and he did that. After what seemed like only 15 minutes, he was back taxiing in. No crossing the barrier but this plane was a hoot to fly. “Flight time, Fuzz?” he asked. “One hour, thirty-five minutes.” Just wow. Rosen recovered him and took him back to the ready room. Red was there, and he said he’d looked at the video from the flight, and everything looked good for tonight’s mission. Rosen took him back for a diaper change and to put him down for his nap. Rosen got Jimmy up and ready for the squadron breakfast. He tried to be cool, but he was excited. Even though this was a test mission, He’d be flying a profile like a real one. Depart at night, pass through the barrier, shoot a couple of targets and return. After breakfast, they hit the ready room. Pilots, crew chiefs, and bears all occupied successive chairs. Most of the briefing was pairing up crews and assigning departure times. Individual missions were given to the pilots and fed into the memory of the bears. Seeing how Jimmy’s was a short test mission, He’d have the last departure, and he’d likely be the first back. Pilots studied their missions. Rosen put a sippy cup on Jimmy’s armrest. “Thanks,” he said. He looked around, and most of the pilots either had cups or bottles with them. After a while, the commander said, “OK, mommies, let’s start getting them in the air.” Pilots got into their strollers clutching their bears and cup or bottle, and their mommies started pushing them to the planes. Being the last departure, Jimmy waited and got loaded up and pushed down the hall behind them all. Rosem got him out to the plane, and he climbed up and put Fuzz in his position. Rosen climbed up behind me and strapped him in, making extra sure everything was secure. “Everything secure?” she asked. “Affirmative.” “You ready for this?” “I was born ready,” he said with a smile. She fussed a bit more with some of the cockpit fittings. Finally, she reached down into her bag and pulled up a baby bottle. She removed the nipple cap and put it in a cup holder in the cockpit. “In case you get thirsty in flight.” She pushed a lever and lowered the canopy. Jimmy had Fuzz read the checklists and went over everything twice. No rush. He watched the other planes depart and finally called for his clearance. Night takeoff wasn’t anything different than what he was expecting. He followed the HUD indicators to the point where he’d cross the barrier. “Barrier crossing in two minutes,” Fuzz announced. “Thank you, Fuzz, give me a 15-second heads up.” “Roger.” He watched the instruments, all normal. He saw a red line appear on the display. This would be the barrier. “Fifteen seconds,” Fuzz announced. “Thanks.” He reached forward and pushed the button that blacked out the canopy. He pushed the condition lever forward to the barrier penetration position. “5…4…3…2…1,” Fuzz counted down. He wasn’t sure what to expect. What he got was quiet. He initially thought he’d had a flameout, but the instruments all showed normal. “Everything, OK, Fuzz?” “All systems normal, Boneman.” It was an eerie smoothness. Very calming. The barrier wasn’t so bad, he thought. “Estimated time to target six minutes forty seconds.” “Thanks, Fuzz. He had a few minutes to enjoy the relaxation. He pulled the bottle out of its holder and sucked at the nipple. He was never much of a milk drinker, but this stuff was getting addictive. “Thirty seconds.” He armed the weapons and watched the displays intently. Soon two red circles started to approach. The targets. One was slightly ahead of the rest. He placed the crosshairs on that. He soon got a beep that indicated that he was in range and aimed properly. He pulled the trigger and watched that target disintegrate. He quickly swung the crosshairs to the second and got tone and pulled. Suddenly a third target appeared. This wasn’t planned, but he killed that one as well. “Very good, Boneman. Targets destroyed.” Apparently, Fuzz wasn’t surprised. “You keeping secrets from me?” “Red wanted to test you. He does that with all the new pilots.” “I guess I passed.” “You did well.” He swung the plane back towards base. Soon he dropped back through the barrier and was on approach to Boyd. He landed and taxied in, and Rosen was waiting. She hopped up and opened the canopy. “How was it?” “Fine,” he said. “Red wants to debrief as soon as we get your data downloaded. No comms occur through the barrier, but we started it as soon as you were back. Red said to wake him up when we’re ready.” “Wake him up?” Jimmy thought. Now there was a cool character. Taking a nap while one of his students was on his first mission. “You did well,” Red said. You handled the barrier transition and found your target without a problem. Did you have any problems? “No,” Jimmy said, “But it is a weird feeling. Almost too peaceful.” “Yes, I can’t quite get into it now, but it affects people differently. Further, not all missions are going to be the same in that way. He went over the flight in detail, but there was nothing much to discuss. “I’m going to release you to fly real missions. I’ll tell the commander. He probably will slot you into one tomorrow.” “That’s it?” Jimmy thought. One training flight, albeit after a lot of practice and simulation. He did feel ready though. Red left the room, and Rosen turned to him. “How are you really feeling?” “Good. I had to ask Fuzz to confirm everything was OK, but I feel ready for tomorrow. Gosh, I’m thirsty though. I finished that bottle you gave me in the plane. You wouldn’t happen to have any more?” “I’ve got plenty. I guess now that you’re pretty much an official squadron member, I can do it this way.” She unbuttoned the blouse of her uniform and then did something with her bra and presented Jimmy a nipple. It took him a second to comprehend. “That’s your milk I’ve been drinking?” No wonder it tasted different. “Yes, I’ve been pumping since you were assigned to me. Though it wasn’t long since I lost my last pilot.” What happened to him?” Jimmy asked. “I’d rather not discuss it.” She brought his head and her breast together, and he quietly sucked the warm, sweet milk from her. Jimmy pretty much had the first time off since he was assigned here. He went to the rec room and shot a little pool, and slowly the rest of the crews returned. The commander eventually came in and said, “Red cleared you. You’ll fly a mission tomorrow. I’ll pair you up with Doggy and give you something not too difficult.” “Thanks,” Jimmy said. Several of the other pilots and crew chiefs came by to congratulate him, but he was told it wasn’t official until after he flew the first real mission. Eventually, after dinner and a diaper change, he settled down in his crib. He would have a busy day the next day. He cuddled Fuzz. As usual, Fuzz warned him a few minutes before Rosen came to wake him. She got him up, bathed, diapered, and into his flight suit, and then we made their way to breakfast. He was so nervous he could hardly eat. Doggy was put into the high chair next to his. “Are you ready for this?” he asked. “I was born ready?” Jimmy said. Doggy chuckled. “You don’t know how true that is.” appeared after the first one was killed. Doggy would take the first one, and Jimmy would keep my eyes peeled for the next. They’d cycle until no more. After the briefing broke up, their Mommies got them into our strollers and pushed them out to the planes. As usual, Fuzz was loaded into his place behind Jimmy. Rosen took extra care strapping Jimmy down. She put a bottle in the holder and then kissed him on the forehead. “Good luck, baby.” “Thanks, mommy.” Jimmy gave her a thumbs up, and she closed the canopy. Jimmy had Fuzz run the checklists, and soon Doggy called me on the radio. “Ship to ship, Def 16, Def 21 how do you read?” “Loud and clear, Def 16.” “I’ll handle the radio work,” he said. This of course was standard procedure. Pretty soon Jimmy heard on the regular channel. “Def 16 flight of two, Ramp, Taxi.” Doggy got their clearance, and as he pulled out of his parking space, Jimmy pulled in behind him. They did a textbook takeoff with Doggy in the lead and Jimmy in echelon right. They didn’t say anything at this point. Soon Fuzz announced the imminent barrier penetration. Jimmy reached up and pushed the button to black out the canopy. It was the same as it felt the previous day. The radio crackles,” Def 21, you got your ears on?” “That’s a big 10-4, good buddy” Jimmy replied. "Real peaceful.” “It is likely to change when we get closer,” Jimmy sat back and followed Doggy’s lead. After a bit, he took some hits of his mommy’s milk. In no time at all Fuzz was announcing that we were ten minutes to target. Even before he did, Jimmy was getting a growing sense of anxiety. Nerves? It was getting particularly strong as the time ran down. “Boneman, primary target spotted. Keep your eyes out for the next one.” “Roger, Doggy” fired. Jimmy watched the computer image of it disintegrate. Then he saw a similar target shoot up from behind. He put my plane on its path, aligned the crosshairs, and fired. Two more appeared. “I’ll take the one on the left; you get the right,” Doggy called out. “Roger.” Jimmy swung around and, being careful not to get Doggy in the crossfire, blew the target up. One more appeared, but rather than heading for us like the others; this one seemed to be running away. His heart was still pounding. “Grab that straggler,” Doggy called. Jimmy started after it as it picked up speed away from him. He advanced the throttles and closed quickly. He then thought that he should know what he was shooting at. Jimmy reached up and pushed the button unblacking the canopy. “Holy crap,” Jimmy said. He was expecting the blackness of night, but he got a very surreal view of what appeared to be a giant room. The target that was running away from me was the biggest freaking spider he’d ever seen. It was as big as a house. He put the crosshairs on it and blew it into tiny bits while simultaneously blacking the canopy again. “What the hell was that?” Jimmy called. Doggy didn’t answer for a second. “Looks like we got ‘em all. Did you unblack your canopy.” “Yeah, that probably was a mistake.” “Yes, as you were told, it can be really disconcerting here. That’s why we always fly blacked out.” “What the hell was that.” “They’ll explain it in the post-flight briefing.” Their mommies unstrapped them from the cockpits, and soon Doggy and Jimmy along with Theo and Fuzz were being wheeled into a conference room to be debriefed by Red and the commander. “You did good, Boneman,” Red started. He followed by the analysis of the performance of our two planes during the attack. Everything was textbook on both Doggy’s and my part. “Except for unblacking the canopy,” the commander said. “But I guess it’s good you got that out of your system and you recovered. Some people have done that and not fared so well.” “So, is someone going to explain what I saw?” Jimmy asked. “We can tell you now. You’ve demonstrated your ability to be an ongoing asset to the squadron. Our mission is sensitive enough that we won’t disclose the particulars to those who will not fly with us regularly. No need to know.” The commander paused, “The following is beyond Top Secret. It should never be discussed outside the regular squadron members.” Jimmy nodded my assent. “In a nutshell, the area beyond the barrier takes place in someone’s dream.” “Huh?” was all Jimmy could muster. “Here’s a briefing book on the subject. Read through it; it should answer most of your questions.” The colonel slid a binder across the table. It was marked with all sorts of high-security warnings. Jimmy flipped past the warnings and other boilerplate to the introduction. In 1998, Captain John Somos was flying the experimental XF-69 when he entered an unexpected flight regime. He was unable to explain it, and frankly, people didn’t believe him. He succeeded in doing it again, and his cameras revealed unexpected visual images. The Air Force tried with other pilots to do more research into this but found that no other pilots could make it happen. Quite a few believed that Somos had somehow faked the whole thing. No actual live telemetry ever existed. Then they found one new pilot who also could enter the regime. Still, many others tried and not without loss of life. Finally, having gone through over thirty pilots, they started to examine the three who had managed to succeed. It became apparent that they had a psychological profile in common. It became clear that all three had an immature innocence to them. They were latent babies. It was also becoming apparent what the nature of the beyond-the-barrier regime was. They were entering into someone’s dreams. This became apparent when one of the base officers recognized the video as something he had dreamed. Again, people were skeptical, but he could describe aspects of the video he had not yet seen. More research was done, and they determined how to target specific people’s dreams and that they could affect what happened there. Of course, this was all kept very secret. Nobody would have believed it anyhow. It wasn’t until a key operative started having nightmares to the point of being debilitating that someone affiliated with the program and that operative came up with the idea that they could fix the problem. As time went on, they learned more and more about the barrier and how to manipulate it. They also found out how to select pilots and to preserve their abilities. It turned out that some pilots who previously could fly beyond the barrier lost the ability. More studies found techniques to avoid this. The outgrowth was a fully operational squadron to manipulate dreams. Crews were selected on their psychological profile, and the whole baby process was developed to maintain their abilities. The squadron crew chiefs took over the role of mommies. The pilots, always coddled in the past anyhow, were treated like babies, down to the diapers, teddy bears, sleeper-style flight suits, and food. Jimmy put the briefing down. He understood now, and he knew his role. He only had two questions. “The spiders?” One of our diplomats had a traumatic event. She’d been plagued with them ever since. She thinks she is at Boyd for special hypnosis, but it was just to put her in a controlled situation for your mission. “Yesterday’s balloons?” Red stood up and smiled. “That was me. I’ve learned to control my dreams. I take you guys on your initial training missions because it’s a nice, controlled test of your ability to operate beyond the barrier.” Now Jimmy understood why Red was sleeping during his mission. Doggy and his crew chief had excused themselves by this point. Rosen had left the room, saying she would be back, and the commander and Red left as well. Jimmy took the alone time to ask Fuzz a question. “Fuzz?” “Yes, Boneman?” “What happened to Rosen’s last pilot.” There was a protracted delay. Almost like the bear was thinking it over. “Fuzz?” “I’m checking for clearance to disclose that information, just a second…clearance approved. Sergeant Rosen’s last pilot was killed beyond the barrier on a mission three months ago.” “Fuzz. How did Mommy’s previous baby die?” This time without hesitation came the answer. “Lt. Frank “Bubba” Howard was flying his twenty-third barrier mission when he lost the ability to operate in the barrier. Normally this would not be fatal, but in the transition an explosion that was part of the dream he was operating in managed to destroy him and his aircraft. Sergeant Rosen blamed herself for some time for not doing enough to maintain Bubba’s abilities. She almost left the program.” Jimmy thought about it for a long time. This must have been hard for her. She felt she wasn’t a good enough mommy to keep her baby alive. Wow, no wonder she was still a little shaken up. The mommies were really attached to their pilot babies. It must have been traumatic that he didn’t come back. “Fuzz,” Jimmy spoke after a few minutes of reflection. “Yes, Boneman.” “From now on, call Sergeant Rosen ‘mommy.’” “Will do.” Soon Rosen returned and started to wheel him back to the squadron. He put his hand on hers. “Thank you, Mommy,” he said sincerely. She smiled and pushed him down to the day room, where a party in his honor was getting started. “Welcome to the Night Defenders, Boneman” the commander announced to a large round of applause. Quote

Doesn't sound exactly like it, but I had a story called "The Device" where a guy gets such a device and his wife ends up with control over it. You can find it on my site (see below):

Give me a break. I don't know what country you are on, but the first three things you list are not "medical procedures." The para tasked with changing diapers, helping kids to the bathroom, etc... does not need any sort of certification. The rest of your comments don't seem to make much sense. What cost to the employee? The employee is getting paid and in most cases they are being paid for what they were hired to do. In most districts while teachers may be under contract (that is widely exploited), most of the paras are not. They're just at will employees. I'm not getting your alleged discrimination issues at all and anybody who Godwins a thraed has already lost what sliver of credibility they might have had.

I think it probably would have embarrassed her more than me.

My wife was a special ed assistant and then teachers. Neither those nor the school nurse are (in their district) tasked with getting kids into the bathrooms or changing diapers. They have specific paras for that. They do work on strategies to get kids functional. At one point they decided it was time to get this older kid into goodnites. The teacher is looking at one and thinking it's pretty small. My wife grabs it and starts pulling on it saying they look pretty stretchy. She was avoiding saying "They fit my husband, they should fit little Jeffy." (The teacher knew me, too).

I had a hard time raising ATC one day when flying. Eventually, they came on and said they had a controller change. I wanted to ask what brand of diaper he was wearing.

A couple of years back I went to a neighborhood ugly sweater party in a short white terry bathrobe, a hat with ear flaps, black socks and shoes carrying a.beer and a cigar and a piece of shopvac hose... the hostess for the party immediately recognized me as cousin Eddie... THE SHITTER'S FULL!

My previous house had a pumped septic system. When the pumps died (and they were waiting for the replacement) they pumped my tank and told me to be careful with how much went down the drain. I was home by myself and found it a good excuse to wear diapers. Saving my water use up for a quick shower once a day.

If I don't get the discount, sonny, nobody gets the discount.

My wife got real pissed at me about 15 years ago. HER: I don't know why I'm getting all this AARP stuff. ME: I signed you up for it. HER: What, why? ME: You turned 50. I'm not old enough to qualify but I can get the discounts on your membership. I don't remember much that happened after that.

Some places require prescriptions for catheters, some don't. You'll have to play around. If you PM me, I'll send you who I get them from.

Opera: People singing when they should be talking. Rap: People talking when they should be singing.

I had serious problems worrying about it and worse being embarrassed when the accidents happened when I was younger. Now I'm just of the, yeah it happens situation.