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IAN AND VICKIE JOIN FORCES WITH A HARD BOILED PRIVATE EYE TO FOIL A GANG OF DESPERATE DIAPER THIEVES! SPATS BELMONDO Holidays are bad for business, and Thanksgiving and Christmas are the worst of them all. Especially here in the Twin Cities. It's not enough that the serial adulterers who are the mainstay of our business, cursed with the occasional twinge of conscience, opt to stay home with their families over the holidays. No, at this time of the year we also have to contend with blizzards and snowdrifts, which really ruin a wayward doctor's day, not to mention his nights. I ask you … how is the jerk supposed to interview the cream of the latest nursing school crop at a sleazy airport hotel down on the 494 Strip if the road's impassable? And even if by some miracle the highway department deigns to roll with the plows, where's he supposed to park? Leave the Volvo on a city street during a snow emergency, and you get towed. Put the BMW in the motel parking lot, and there's a fighting chance it'll still be there when the snow starts to melt sometime in March, or maybe April. Minnesota winters are not exactly predictable. No, there's no doubt about it: holidays are bad for business. Year after year, Twinkletoes and her trusty Olympus 35mm camera with its handy dandy collection of lenses and filters go their separate ways in mid-November, not to be reunited again until New Year's Eve, when things will finally start to get back to normal around here. Come early January, aggrieved wives will be storming through the door, eager to get the goods on their wayward spouses en route to a big payday in divorce court. Our paydays are somewhat more modest. Twinkletoes will cost you seventy five bucks an hour, plus expenses. Pat and I charge three hundred an hour, and we bill in six minute increments. Get the picture? Anyway, on the plus side the two of us have six weeks a year to catch up on our reading. Pat favors Playboy and Hustler. My taste runs to crossword puzzles. Anybody know a five letter Zulu word for an eland? Oh, and as for Julia? What can I say? The week before Thanksgiving is when she renews her acquaintance with the kitchen. It's an annual tradition. For six weeks, she cooks up a storm, and we all loosen our belts another notch (it's the Minnesota way). In any event, Twinkletoes is married to this really nice guy, so we'll overlook the fact that Herb Canon is a cop with more than twenty years on the force. Alas, it's impossible to overlook their winsome daughter, Priscilla. Pris is also a cop, of the campus variety, and she packs a mean right. A guy in a bar up nordeast recently called her Prissy, and she laid him out with one punch. No one paid much attention, this being a cop bar and all, and to his credit the guy got up, rubbed his jaw, apologized, and then offered to buy her a drink. She accepted graciously, and all was forgiven. He was lucky that Pris didn't break a cue stick over his skull. So here we were, Thanksgiving looming on the horizon, and nary a client in sight. Still, there were pluses, and the three of us did have reasons to be thankful. For one thing, we didn't have to worry about paying the rent because we owned the building. Our office was on the top floor-- all right, already … a second floor walk-up-- and there was a very good delicatessen down below. We shared Two with a guy selling insurance, and he had a dry cleaner's underfoot. We all did well because we were directly across the street from one of the largest hospitals in the state. Desperate nurses made periodic forays to the deli, the weekly pastrami on rye an antidote to what passed for food in the hospital cafeteria. The dry cleaners specialized in blood, vomit and assorted gore. The insurance guy did a booming business writing policies for the boats tied up along the St. Croix, including the houseboats that a small troop of physicians used for extracurricular activities all year round. And of course the soon to be ex-wives, most of them nurses past and present, were the mainstay of our own thriving concern. Julia got the goods with her trusty Olympus, and we nailed the cheaters to the proverbial courthouse wall. Over the years, from Stillwater to Prescott, many a houseboat title had changed hands thanks to our diligent efforts. In our experience, long suffering wives definitely had a thing for houseboats. To make a long story short, we were just marking time when the door opened and the Incredible Hulk filled our line of sight. It took the Hulk a few moments to figure out that he needed to do the sideways shuffle, or remain forever condemned to stand in the hallway. The sharpest stick in the bunch the Hulk definitely was not, and his jacket was at least two sizes too small. Still, the cannon that he was packing in a shoulder holster looked like a good fit for his hulk like hands. The second guy through the door was a celebrity, although not one whom we had had the honor of representing in court. In fairness, though, Spats Belmondo tended to favor extralegal solutions for his more pressing problems. You could buy a lot of lead for three hundred bucks an hour. “You want I should frisk them, Boss? Maybe look for a wire?” “Fuhgeddaboudit, Walley; deese guys ain't wearing no wires … not in their own office. Besides, dey didn't know we was comin'.” “Right on both counts, Spats … right on both counts. But what gives with the muscle?” I was nodding at the Hulk; a third fellow was now standing just inside the door. Short and wiry, wearing a fedora with the brow too low, he was sporting a mustache that looked like an oil slick. The black shirt and white tie were straight out of Hollywood. The guy couldn't pull off Bogart, but maybe he was going for Alan Ladd. “I mean, seriously. You've got a walleye on the payroll? Since when did the gorillas get shoved to the curb?” “Ha, ha; very funny, shamus. I like your sense of humor.” Spats settled into a chair on the opposite side of the desk and crossed his right leg. He studied the shine on his shoe, pulled a handkerchief out of his breast pocket, and flicked an imaginary piece of dust aside. “Julia's the shamus, Spats; I'm a mouthpiece, and my esteemed associate here is a legal eagle.” Pat had set the latest issue of Hustler aside, reluctantly joining the conversation. “It speaks,” Spats laughed. “For a moment dere, I thought yous was a potted plant!” The two bodyguards laughed politely. “Twinkletoes I get,” Spats continued, “but what's with Aardvark and Platypus? Those your real names?” “Andrew Jones and Pat Smith at your service,” I said. “Aardvark puts us first in the phone book, and I have absolutely no idea how Platypus came about. Pat, you remember?” “I was drunk at the time. I don't remember a damned thing.” “Smith and Jones? Jeez … yous was right to scratch 'em off the list. Smith and Wesson? Yeah, now that I could see.” The Hulk and his oily friend once again laughed politely. “To business,” Spats announced as he slapped his hands firmly on my desk. “I wanna hire da Twinkie to help me out with a lidda problem.” “Seventy-five dollars an hour, plus expenses, with a retainer of five hundred samolies, payable in advance and in cash.” I was not big on beating around the bush. Spats snapped his fingers, and the oil can stepped forward. He pulled an envelope out of his jacket pocket, and handed it to the mobster. Spats casually threw it on the desk. “Dere's a G in dere; if the Twinkster needs more, have her call this number ...” Spats slid a business card across the desk. “Lullaby Adult Diaper Service?” I stared at him blankly. “One of my more profitable enterprises,” Spats smirked. “We supply all dah nursing homes in the Cities, and we even got regular joes as customers. Why, we even got us a university guy, a regular war hero who got shot to pieces over there.” Spats nodded vaguely in the general direction of the Pacific coast. “Makes us look real classy.” “You mean Viet Nam?” “Yeah … maybe … hell, I don't know. We're fightin' so many wars in so many places … who can keep track?” “You have a point. And with whom at your diaper service are we supposed to speak?” “My niece, Harriet. Nicolo's little girl, only she's all grown up now. She fronts dah whole operation, and she runs a real tight ship.” “Ah,” I said, the truth dawning as I looked more closely at the card. “Miss Harriet Belmondo.” Fingering the card, I leaned forward, just a fellow conspirator trying to get an update. “So, what's the play, Spats? How can we help?” “Somebody's stealing my diapers,” Spats growled. . . . . “No, Ian, really … there's no need to apologize. Many of our individual customers suspend service for a week or two, especially during the holidays. If you're going out of town for a family gathering, you can't very well carry a diaper pail on the plane with you.” Sitting at an adjoining desk, Francine Sullivan could hear the young professor's voice through the phone, but she could not make out what he was saying. Still, it was easy enough to fill in the blanks. “No, no, there's no inconvenience. Your service is on Wednesday; giving us notice two days in advance is more than enough time. Can you call Monday next to confirm resumption of service?" More mumbling on the line. “That's a good idea. Give me a number next Monday, and I'll adjust your order. No sense in paying for three dozen if you will only need two. How's your car doing? Still down for the count?” Mumble, mumble. “It must be so hard for you, this being your first winter. And I got used to you driving out here on Wednesday afternoons to process your order in person. Do you realize that you are the only customer I've ever met? Everybody else is just a name, address and telephone number in the files.” Mumble. “No! I appreciate how embarrassing it was for you to leave two bags of dirty diapers sitting in the hallway all day long when you left for work, where your neighbors couldn't help but see them. And then there's our brightly colored delivery truck pulling into the parking lot of an adults only complex. None of this could have been easy for you, so I was happy to help.” Ian started to mumble yet again, but Harriet cut him off. “No, Ian, it's never been an inconvenience, and please, stop apologizing for the day you came in just as we were closing. It's not every day that a guy apologizes for something so trivial by taking a hungry gal out to dinner! And my offer still stands. I can drive down on Wednesday nights after you get home from work, and do the pick up and drop off in person. I would be barely going out of my way, so it would really be no trouble at all. So, will you at least think about it?” One last mumble. “You will? That's great! Enjoy Thanksgiving!” Harriet hung up the phone with a long sigh. “Not going out of your way?' Francine had a very knowing grin. “Harry, you live on Lake Minnetonka, and he's down in Bloomington, which, the last time I looked, is half way to Iowa! The two of you are barely in the same time zone!” “I know, I know, but what can I say? He told my uncle that the tagliatelle was to die for, and the gnocchi the best he's ever eaten. He praised the wine list, raved about the Valpolicella … and he did all this in Italian so polished that my uncle mistook him for an aristocrat from Milan or the lake district. He even tore up the bill-- and Rudy never comps anybody for anything! It was the best date I've ever had!” “Someone's got a crush … nah de nah de nah nah,” Francine teased. “But he's not Italian, he's not Catholic, and he not only wears diapers and pees in them … he poops in them! Sorry, Harry, but this guy is definitely a no-no. Your uncle would have a fit if he found out about your date, and you can count your lucky stars that Rudy chose to keep his lip zipped.” “I know, Francie; I know. But a girl's entitled to the odd fantasy, isn't she? And you don't know what it's like! Every, single Sunday after Mass, Ariana rubs it in … 'you're twenty-six and still no husband? My Francesca is your age, and she's expecting her third bambino any day now'. I am so sick of it!” “Shitty diapers,” Francine countered. She knew that Harriet needed to get out more, but being a Belmondo was a social curse as well as a financial blessing. No one wanted to date a notorious gangster's favorite niece-- at least, no one respectable. “True, and believe me … I've peeked into his dirty diapers. Yuk!!! But you forgot something. Ian's a professore! Uncle Vinnie would kill to have a professor in the family!” . . . . “I can't believe how easy it is to rip these people off,” Cindy crowed. “I mean … seriously? The driver drops off bags of clean diapers at the front door, picks up the used and walks off. He doesn't even bother to ring the bell. Who are these morons, anyway?” “The gift that keeps on giving,” Melanie laughed. “Just think. A week's worth of adult diapers for one of their customers is enough to keep one of our pigeons in diapers for a week as well, and the baby diapers make wonderful stuffers! The photographs should be enough to keep them in line, but if need be, we can always up the ante by threatening to send them to class with a dozen baby diapers stuffed inside their already bulging pants!” “And I can't wait to track them down in the laundromat,” she added as she checked the mirror, making sure that one of their sisters in a trailing car would be stopping to execute the snatch and grab. “I'll be there offering to help them fold their nice, clean diapees! God, how I love humiliating these jerks!” “A pigeon here and a pigeon there,” Cindy hummed, “means easy A's in physics, chemistry, astronomy, calculus … am I leaving anything out?” “Why stop there? Beg, borrow and steal the diapers … invest a little of our own cash in lovely, pink baby pants … seduce the brainiac with a blow job, promise him real sex if he just indulges a teensy, weensy innocent little fantasy, click, click-- don't worry, dear, the photos are just to remember you by-- and then blackmail the twerp for four years to do all of our coursework! Our house ends up with the highest GPA on sorority row, and we get to spend four homework free years partying like there's no tomorrow. The frat boys will love us, especially if we get our pigeons to do their homework as well.” “And our misbegotten parents will be so thrilled when we all graduate Phi Beta Kappa!” “The ultimate bang for their tuition bucks,” Melanie concluded, watching the diaper delivery truck round the corner and ease to a stop at the next house on its route. . . . . “Give me the skinny, Spats. We looking at a B&E at the laundry? Or did somebody hijack one of your delivery trucks?” “Nah, nuttin like dat. It looks like somebody's tailing the driver. He makes the pick up an drop, an takes off. Before yous can say 'Frank sent me', somebody runs up and puts the snatch on my diapers. I want da Twinkster to find the guilty party, and den get back to me.” “No police involvement?” Spats gave me a sour look. It was eloquence itself. “Dey even ripped off Fredo's load. Can yous believe it? My brudder … my poor brudder … some asswipe stole his diapers right offa da front porch!” “How's Freddy doing these days? Getting any better?” “Nah. Dey held his head under water too long.” “Toothpick Charlie,” Pat suddenly exclaimed. “That's who he reminds me of,” he went on, nodding at the walking oil slick. “Toothpick Charlie!” “Yeah,” I said, snapping my fingers, “the resemblance is astonishing! And you, Spats; did anyone ever tell you that you look just like George Raft?” “Who?” “Spats Colombo … you know … the Windy City hood that got bumped off by Little Bonaparte down in Florida at the annual Friends of Italian Opera convention.” “I don't know nuttin bout dat. And da convention was in Vegas, not Florida. We ain't been to Florida since the Commies took Havana. Dat bearded guy ain't no friend of Italian opera.” “So, when did Fredo lose his diapees, anyway?” Spats turned to look over his shoulder. “Last Monday.” Toothpick Charlie's voice was as lugubrious as his mustache. “There has to be a gang of diaper thieves out there, because they followed the driver from stop to stop, and stole everything that wasn't nailed down.” “Dis here's Pauly, my Consigliere. He keeps an eye on things for me.” “Any chance that a rival gang is trying to muscle in on your territory, maybe another diaper service?” “Geesh! Come on guys, act yours age. If we was dealin' with a competitor, I wouldn't need da Twinkster, now would I? Geesh!” “Point well taken, Spats … point well taken.” “Wally rode shotgun on Tuesday and Wednesday.” The oil slick nodded at his companion the Hulk. Now that Spats had taken off his muzzle, Charlie seemed determined to talk us to death. “We knocked on doors, and if somebody answered, we delivered the diapers and best wishes for the holidays. But every drop where there was nobody home? On both days, they all went missing. The hit to our inventory, both baby and adult, has been significant. If we don't get our diapers back, service will be interrupted, and we'll lose customers. Can't have that, gentlemen; the diaper business is very profitable.” “What about the university guy? Was he condemned to spend Thanksgiving peeing in his pants?” “Nah. He called Harriet on Monday. He was goin' outta town or somethin', so he got no service. Unless somebody broke into his pad, his stash is safe.” “Good to know. Well, here's what we're going to do. I'll phone Julia and get her ass in gear. She'll start tomorrow. What time's your first truck roll?” “Eight sharp.” The Toothpick was obviously in command of the details. “Okay. Best guess is that she'll want to tail your driver, and see if she can spot somebody else clinging to his fender. However, at some point she'll want to drop by the shop and have a chat with Harriet. You know the drill, Spats … always look for an unhappy employee, or one down on his luck. Nine times out of ten, these capers turn out to be inside jobs.” “Good thinkin', Aardvark. I'll get Harriet on the blower, and let her know what's up. She's a good kid, and she's takin' this personally. She wants her diapers back, period, end of story.” Spats climbed to his feet, tipped his fedora, and strolled out of the room with the same casual grace that he had displayed entering it. His spats were spotless. . . . . So there we were, Pat and I, alone once more, but with an envelope stuffed with hundred dollar bills sitting quietly atop my desk. I looked over at Pat, wondering if he was also thinking that having Spats Belmondo for a client was about the stupidest thing we had ever done. Pat shrugged, picked up his copy of Hustler, and resumed reading, or looking at photos of naked ladies, whatever it was that Pat actually did when he opened the covers of one of his dirty magazines. I didn't really want to know, and so far had managed to refrain from finding out. Instead, I picked up the phone and dialed the Canon residence. It was time to let Twinkletoes know that we had a client who was rich and appreciative of her expertise. It remained to be seen whether she would be less than enthusiastic about solving the case of the missing diapers on behalf of the shadiest mobster in the Twin Cities. . . . . “We need more diapers,” Cindy summed up. “We simply do not have the resources with which to blackmail the braniacs who can make all of our academic problems go away, for the simple reason that the list of our academic shortcomings is inexhaustible. If we don't want to lose our charter, we need more diapers.” Cindy was addressing the sorority's brain trust. Trailing the diaper service truck for the first three days of Thanksgiving week had netted them a huge pile of baby diapers, but precious few of the adult variety. In fact, they only had enough to entrap three pigeons, which would nicely cover physics, chemistry and calculus, but the rest of the curriculum was a gigantic black hole eager to swallow the sorority whole. “We could all spend more time hitting the books,” Joyce suggested helpfully. “You know … reduce our exposure.” “Oh, please,” Melanie snorted. Joyce was only in the house because she was a legacy, and she was only on the Council because her older sister had been on the Council. In Melanie's opinion, Joyce Wiggins was proof positive that something had gone terribly wrong with the whole fraternity system. “Does anybody else have any bright ideas?” Cindy shared Melanie's opinion of both the fraternity system in general and Joyce Wiggins in particular. “I have a suggestion,” Tippi started to say. “Who the fuck let that cat in here,” Janis screamed. “Everybody in the house knows that I'm allergic to cat hair. And who the fuck would name a cat 'Blofeld' in the first place? That's just plain sick!” “As I was saying.” Tippi tried again. “Blofeld is an oriental shorthair, and they don't shed,” Melanie sniffed. “So, calm down, already.” “And what's with you and psychopaths, anyway? I mean, really … you boo Batman, and cheer for the Joker. You don't get Smart, but you write fan letters to Siegfried. And you name your fucking cat after the creepiest guy ever to crawl across the silver screen. And who put you in charge of this meeting, anyway?" “Actually, Cindy's in charge.” “Would anyone like to hear my idea,” Tippi asked yet again. A tall, slender, hauntingly beautiful nineteen year old blonde from New Ulm, Tippi rarely spoke up. In fact, she worked hard to stay out of the limelight. Tippi's parents had not done their daughter any favors when they named her for New Ulm's most famous export. From elementary school to university, every boy who crossed her path had asked her the same, dreary question. “Tippi has the floor,” Cindy proclaimed, pounding the table with her gavel in a bold attempt to restore order. “Laying low today was a good idea because we have to assume that whoever owns the diaper service will now have someone shadowing his delivery truck. For the same reason, we should back off tomorrow as well. Rather than trailing the truck, we should send a team to hang out at three different addresses on his route-- addresses widely spaced. If we spot one car at all three locations, we'll know what's what. Then, we get back to work on Wednesday, but we only target one drop … the large, adults only apartment complex down in Bloomington that he hit late in the afternoon two weeks ago. There'll be at least a week's worth of used diapers waiting outside somebody's door, which I am going to steal before the driver gets there. We'll stuff some dirty, old rags into the bag so that it looks and feels the same, and once he's gone, I'll also grab the clean diapers. We get two weeks worth of adult diapers in one go, and give these creeps the middle finger in the process. Then we give our pigeons enough diapers for three or four days, forcing them to visit the laundromat twice a week … for double the humiliation. We'll end up with maybe nine guys doing our coursework, and the Great Diaper Heist of 1979 will be just another unsolved crime.” “Any other ideas,” Cindy asked as she scanned the room. “No? Then we'll vote on Tippi's proposal in accordance with house rules. All in favor so signify by touching the tip of your nose with your right hand; all opposed so signify by grabbing your left ear lobe with your left hand.” Cindy once again scanned the room. “The ayes have it, and the vote is unanimous. Tippi and I will take care of business tomorrow, and on Wednesday. The rest of you get to work drawing up a target list. Finals are just a couple of weeks away, and some of us have term papers. We need to trap our pigeons this weekend, and have them in diapers by Monday next at the latest!”

Danny sat at her computer, chin on her hand, and watched the series of videos with growing boredom. "There is no way people think this is real," she said. "Yeah, it's obviously a bunch of actors" Alex replied. "I'm sure you could sign up if you wanted." Danny snorted. "As if. Seems more up your alley." "Nah I actually have a life. You know, like an adult. It's you who'd be sacrificing nothing." "#(@ off, sissy brat." The website was called "We all Saw It." It claimed to feature overly stuck up or elitest men and women being brought down a few pegs. In reality, it was mainly kink videos. The current video showed a woman on all fours in a dog cage, wearing a latex suit resembling a dog. A mountain of dog food was piled up in front of her as a timer ran out, and a leash that attached to a collar around his neck was pulling her toward it. "HELP! SOMEONE PLEASE HELP!" She screamed. A dark, corrupted voice came into the video. "No one is coming. No one is around for miles. You better start eating if you want out." She cried and sobbed no, but the leash only got tighter. Finally, her head was pulled into it, and she started eating. Each bite made her gag, and she cried more, but she kept eating. "So what's the gimmick here?" Alex asked. "She's been giving mind-altering drugs, with the cure spread through the food. If she doesn't eat it all before the time is up, her mind will collapse, and she'll become a permanent pet, like the other videos." They flipped through a second section of the site, where videos showed former 'failed competitors' dressed up as dogs and cats, being streamed 24/7 in their new lives. "So how do they do the 24/7 thing after? That can't be just actors." Danny shrugged. "I don't know. AI?" She flipped through them. "This work at all? For an idea? I don't remember you writing stuff like this before." Alex rolled his eyes. "I've done some, but not my main thing. More importantly, is it what you want, since you are the one with a free commission who couldn't decide for almost a year what you wanted. Don't you like the diaper stuff more?" Danny bit her lip. "Yeah." "So then maybe go to those for inspiration?" Alex rolled his eyes again. Danny went to a different page, with pictures of men and women in diapers. She clicked on one titled "Last lunch", with a picture of a high chair. The video began roughly as they all did, with the voice saying "I want to play a game." It then opened to a blond woman, seemingly asleep, sitting in a high chair. She was naked except for a diaper and a bib, and her hair was in pigtails. Beside her, a stream of comments was running. "LOL I love the diapered ones. Wonder what she did." "Wakey baby girl!" As she woke up, she looked around, then began to scream. She pushed and pulled at the high chair, but nothing gave way. The videos always began with a list of the contestants "crimes"- normally less "crime" in the legal sense and more "too big for your (now padded) britches" or "cheated on your spouse." Danny skipped this, and came on when the woman had calmed down. Much like the pet video, a pile of food dropped in front of her from a conveyor belt. In this case, it was a large bowl of mush, and several baby bottles filled with milk. "There is no way out of out our binds without breaking your own limbs. The only way out is to play. Are you willing to play?" She sniffed and nodded. "The food and milk in front of you is filled with a heavy laxative. To escape, you must eat it all before our timer runs out. The results in your diaper will be filmed and broadcast for the world to see, and links will be sent directly to those you have mocked and lorded over. "If you fail to finish it in time, you will be injected with a toxin that will render you permanently incontinent, and sent to live full time as the live in adult baby for one of our sponsors. Your life will consist of you crawling around, sucking pacifiers, and filling your diapers again and again for our fans. So what will it be? One quick humiliation, or a lifetime of it?" "No no no..." she sobbed, but the timer started in front of her for an hour. She looked down at the food, and began eating. The comments cheered her on. "Yes yes, fill those pamps you brat!" "She totally deserves it. I hope she messes for us and ends up as a baby anyway." "I wish she'd be MY baby!" "I wish my face was her chair when she does it lol" "Does that do it for you?" Alex asked. Danny blushed. "Well I uhhh umm I mean it's a bit gross obviously but uhh..." Alex sighed. "It's ok. It's far from the worst I've written. And honestly, if it is, I'd rather you just say it rather then keep me waiting." "Well... I don't know." Alex put his head in his hands. "I know. Most of my audience are little subbies like you who can't make decisions. That is why you are subs. It's just a tough business when I need you to actually pick something." "What?" Danny thought about it. "HEY! That's not..." "So you weren't considering a story where you are forced to mess a diaper?" Danny blushed deeper. "Welll..."" Alex shook his head. "Whatever. Just decide and let me know. I have to go, but don't want to be left on the hook for a free commission forever. Bye!" "Bye," Danny replied, and watched him leave. She then turned back to her video. Danny skipped ahead. The diapered and pig tailed woman was still eating, and at the same time, she squirmed and whimpered in her seat. "No no please not on camera no no PLEASE NOOO!!!" she shouted. Her body convulsed, and her bottom lifted. "YES YES YES" the comments responded, almost all at once. The microphones were sensitive, and tied directly to her seat. As she squirmed, the crinkling of her diaper came through loud on the speaker, then... "BRRAPPPT!" the sound was loud and clear, and there was no question what she was doing. She gasped and sobbed again as the back of her diaper inflated and sagged. The chat went wild with celebration, and the likes on the video jumped. The won screen stayed raised above her seat, flexing her legs and leaning over her food to keep from settling in her mess. She cried, and stopped eating. "Do you like that feeling? Do you like your messy diaper? Do you like knowing it was broadcast, with sound, to thousands of our viewers and will be left online forever?" "No," she sobbed and shook her head. "Then you better hurry. You have half your time left. If you don't want this to become your daily ritual, you better be a good baby, sit back down on your high chair and in your dirty diaper and finish your food. Otherwise, your new adoptive "parents" are eagerly waiting, and offering us money to end it now. She sighed, cringed, and sat back into her diaper. She went back to eating. Danny skipped ahead. Her diaper had inflated several times over, and was soaked brown. Her food was barely more then half gone. She skipped to the end. She was crying, and the leftover food was being taken away. Her diaper was overflowing, and it dripped down her leg. So, evidently, she had failed. A mechanical arm with a needle came onto screen and injected her, and she passed out. The chat had labelled her "CEO Potty Pants," supposedly referencing her past life of "crimes," and celebrated her failure. Danny switched to the next section. There was an entire page now titled "CEO Potty Pants." An image of her face crying and sucking a pacifier made up most of the page photo. It appeared she was bent over someone's lap, and her diaper rose behind her, with an arm holding a paddle over it. In her new life, she was getting paddled in a diaper over someone's lap. There were multiple videos. Highlights of her worse punishments and compilations of her messing, along with more narrative ones of her waking up to her new life and slowly being "trained" to accept it. Above it all, there was a larger video with a still running live stream. She was in a giant room, presumably, (and as was normal for these videos) in a mansion. In the livestream, she was sitting in a playpen pushing plastic shapes into a box. She was wearing full footed baby pajamas, was clearly thickly diapered, and sucked a pacifier. As Danny watched, she rose up, messed herself, and settled back down to her toys. No one was around her, and nothing forced her to be there. From the looks of it, if it was real, she had been completely trained into submission. Danny shook her head. She clicked at different points, going back days. If the videos were real, she was now permanently diapered and in baby clothing, being treated as she was dressed by a couple in a gigantic mansion. From the description, her new "parents" were "CEO Potty Pant's" former business competitors. Danny made a face of disgust. She went to comment. "So, we all know this is AI or something right? There is no way this is real." Immediately comments replied saying she didn't know what she was talking about, and she responded to some, saying they were falling for a lie. She flipped through the other videos. "No one is dumb enough to think this actually happened right? It's all actors and CGI.' More arguments. Danny doubled down, and kept commenting. "If you think that, you really must be dumb, or a liar." "No way. This would be totally illegal." "If you really think this is real, prove it." She paused. A note appeared at the top of her page, and she clicked on it. For all her comments, she got one thumb up. To her surprise, it was labelled "We All Saw It"- the maker of the videos. "I wonder what that could mean," she said, and closed the page. ... Her stomach was aching. Did she eat something? Perhaps her chair was tucked too far into her computer desk. With a start Danny realized she wasn't at her computer desk. More then that, her eyes were closed. She opened them, and saw that everything around her was dark. So, she must have been sleeping in bed. Except, she didn't feel like she was in bed. Actually, she didn't remember going to bed at all. She decided to roll over and turn on the light. "What?" She said. Something stopped her wrists from moving. "AND IT SEEMS OUR NEW CANDIDATE IS AWAKE! Hello Danny, we want to play a game." A loud voice said. "Before we begin, a word from our sponsors. Tired of misbehaved subs? Try "Decisionless Leashes and Chains" for full body control. They can't do anything wrong if they can't do anything at all. Now to begin." The lights came on, and Danny began screaming. She knew where she was. She had seen it a thousand times. It was supposed to be fake, a dark joke, a weird fantasy for people like her, filled with actors and actresses, but here it was. It was the same room from all her porn videos. There was no mistaking it. She was in the "We All Saw It" dungeon. Worse, she was the prisoner. "No no no non this can't be happening," She whined. She pulled at her wrists and ankles, but found they were locked in place, holding her bent over something. "Oh but it is Danny. It is. And if you don't play along, we'll be finding you a new permanent home." "NO PLEASE NO OOO!" she shouted. "This is insane I'm not really here! This is a dream!" She shouted, slamming her fists against the wood in front of her. WHACK! Something hit her backside with stunning force, and she screamed in pain. "Did you feel that?" "Yes!" she shouted. "So you know it's not a dream." "Yes but its fake! This was all fake! They were actors and actresses and it was just..." WHACK! "OW!" she sobbed. "Please no you can't do this to me." "Oh? You seemed fine when we did it to all those others" the voice replied. "Yes but they were..." she tried to think of a word. They had all committed crimes, had cheated on their partners, had lied and run businesses into the ground. "People who failed. I had a good job, I had friends, was dating, I don't belong here!" WHACK! Another smack, and another yelp. "And that is the exact arrogance that got you here. Ladies and gentlemen on the internet, please welcome our contestant Danny! This one is CERTAIN she is just FAR smarter than everyone else, so much so that she could see right through our videos! Now she has a chance to prove how smart she is in... OUR NEW CLASSROOM!" More lights came on. "Wha?" She asked. In the pause that followed, she tried for the first time to get stock of her surroundings. She was tied to what looked like a wooden desk. She was bent over, with her hands secured in front of her, and her ankles tied spread on the ground. There was a screen beside her, and she saw herself in it from multiple angles. "Noo..." she moaned. "Not like that..." The theme of the set-up was obvious. She was wearing a skimpy schoolgirl style uniform, the kind that existed more in costume stores then actual schools. There was a short plaid skirt over knee-high socks, black leather shoes, and a white button up with a tie. Her hair was in pigtails and tied with bows. Thanks to cameras behind and above her, she could see that her skirt was pinned up to expose frilled white kitten panties, narrow enough that most of her bright red ass was visible to the camera. Around her neck was a tight, pink collar- one the comment sections always rumored could control the victims, or, alternatively, had speakers to give instructions to the hired performers. They were exactly the sort of thing this site put the actresses- now she knew them to be victims- into, and she shuddered at the thought of countless online perverted strangers gawking at her backside and humiliating outfit. She was bent over a large teacher's desk with a wooden ruler raised up, which she assumed was the object that had been spanking her. From a camera above she could see that the desk was covered with "tests" marked with giant red "Fs." Each one described one of her "failures"- unsuccessful work programs, missed deadlines, and of course, incorrectly guessing that this was all fake. More desks with "Fs" on them lined up behind her In front of her was a chalkboard. Written on it were math problems, numbered one to fifty. She looked them up and down. All of them seemed simple. It began with multiplication with low numbers, 23x12, 207/3. From there they got simpler, with most of the rest being basic addition and subtraction. The last ones written were just 2+2 and 1+1.. Beside it, the comments were already pouring in. "Ohh I can't wait for this one! Such an arrogant brat, she earned it!" "I hope that behind is BRIGHT FUCKING RED by the end." "How dumb do you have to be there? Its literally basic math." "Think she'll end up in diapers like the others She looks like she belongs in them." "I think I know this girl. She is pretty dang dumb. Also, she stinks." So, the "game" was that she was a failed student being punished by a professor. Presumably, everything she did wrong would get her a spank. But then why were the questions so easy? "Yes, exactly like this Danny. As you are so convinced of your own intelligence, you will have a chance to prove it.

So, I have been wearing depends for years, and I have to admit that wearing them makes me feel amazing!! I personally lovE!! to wet the first diaper as full as it can get, and then I poke a hole in the middle and pull my cock through. Then I poke little slits in the diaper so when I pee it goes around evenly. Then I put on another depends (XL) mens over the first one, with my cock through the hole I made, and strap that one on tight. Always tight so when I play with it it's smooth and easy to rub and stuff. I love to fill the second diaper full also, I think the thicker the better. I love a fuLL wet diaper. Yumm! So f'n perfect. Then I do the same thing after it's full and poke and slide my dick through the hole and Then I try to pee some so It gets wet inside to start. Then I like to sit in them all day or all night filling it to the max. Three wet, wet wet diapers is the best. More feeling, bigger, my cock feels so big and the softness of the diaper is great. Then after I have had my time alone, I like to poke my cock through the third diaper, keeping the diaper hole tight around my dick so it cuts the circulation off a little bit, and I watch some porn, or try to find a lady or someone who likes to wear them also, or just walk around outside so people can see my huge diaper on me. I hope to find a woman who like to wear them also So we can play with each other, basically that's why I'm on the site. Hope your out there. Phone talk works, webcam works, etc.. meeting would be the best fingers crossed, that would be awesome. Finally, when I'm done showing off, I lay down, throw the porn on and poke it through the last hole and masturbate. WHAT an AWESOME feeling!!!!!! I cum sooo hard and soo much!!! Great experience!! Anyways, hope to talk to people about other ways to use diapers etc.... I'm 33, tall, shaved head, blue eyes. Looking for some great females to share some experiences with!! Anyone have any suggestions on this, or hjave advice for me. Let me know!! Ciao!!!!

I have heard it said that our "olfactory" (hope I spelled that right) or sense of Smell, is one of our strongest senses related to triggering long distant, past Memories..anyone interested or know any thing about this and or want to share Diaper smell(s) experiences or memories, feel free..:)

Good Girl Your cheeks are pink as the blood rushes to your face. Hiding behind a wall, you peek your head around the corner every few seconds. Daddy sits at the kitchen table sorting through a large stack of papers with a cross look on his face while Mommy starts the weekly weekend deep clean of the apartment. You watch as she bends down and collects the scattered toys from within the six foot walled playpen in the living room. Unable to help yourself, your thumb wiggles into your mouth and a soft whimper escapes your lips when she takes your beloved teddy and begins to walk away. Crying pitifully, you know that it is just a stupid bear. You are a thirty year old woman with an unhealthy obsession but you can’t temper the flames of anxiety in your tummy. You know that you have to say something, but that’s just what they want and you will not give in that easily… especially not for a stupid ratty stuffed animal. At least that’s what you tell yourself as you wait and wait and wait and - “Can I help you with something, baby?” Daddy’s low and gravelly voice shatters the loudness in your mind. You flinch, visibly startled and step out from behind the door knowing you've been busted. Daddy hasn’t looked up from his papers yet somehow knew you were there. He beckons you forward with the wave of his hand. “Come,” is all he says and you have no choice but to obey. He knows you better than you know yourself. Mommy stands across the room at the washer and dryer, tossing dirty clothes into the machine and you anxiously watch for your teddy. That action distracts you from the hand creeping towards you. The hand that cups the heavy bulk of padding between your thighs that emits an audible squelch. It distracts you from the hand that turns you around so your back is towards Daddy. Only when the waistband of the diaper snaps back against your skin do you jump in confusion. Looking up at Daddy, he makes a chiding sound with his lips. “Someone made Daddy a present.” What? You frown. P-present? “C’mon,” he stands, taking you by the hand but you refuse to move. “Do you want to stay in your dirty diaper all day?” He asks when your feet remain planted to the ground. The words echo in your mind like a stab to the heart. Dirty diaper. Dirty. Diaper. Diaper… A strangled cry escapes your lips and you immediately look down to find your lower half is bare, besides the thick white bulk taped around your waist that balloons out to your knees. Hazy memories flicker in your brain of you and Daddy. Crying and screaming and ulti-ult - matums? You said no diapers. Daddy said it was the only way to stay together. That you had hurt his feelings. You remember the tears after that and promises to do better and be a good girl. You remember Mommy showing up and kissing daddy like you used to kiss him. You remember the fiery anger in your tummy as he held onto her, gazing at her with stars in his eyes and pushing you aside. You remember when this was your apartment and Daddy’s. It was tiny but perfect for the both of you. The kitchen and living room were just one big room with a tiny hall leading to the front door. There were two rooms - what was once yours and Daddy’s, and the office. Sine then the office had been turned into a nursery for you and you could only watch as Mommy laid in the very bed that used to be yours, snuggling up against the man that was your boyfriend. Daddy said diapers were the only way. Punishment for kissing another man and not him. If you wanted to stay together this was the price to pay and you’d agreed because you loved him despite your mistake. Except he never explained why Mommy was here. Why she had taken your place. But that is besides the point. The more you think the more it hurts and Daddy said good girls wear diapers. Good girls listen to Mommy. Good girls don’t question their Daddy’s. And that is enough to keep you from fretting over the fact that you can’t remember the last six months, and why you wore a diaper, and why you referred to Mommy as mommy; and why weren’t fighting to get your boyfriend back and why you accepted this treatment like it was normal… “Ughhh,” you groan and blink heavily against the fog that has encroached the front of your head. Daddy stands before you with his hands on his hips, staring at you with a knowing look. Whatever you were just thinking about has gone from your mind and to your shock you’ve now switched positions. Your knees are bent and you're squatting low to the ground. There’s a hint of a smell, something foul, and that is when you feel the warm brown lump at your back end. It smushed against your bottom, slowly creeping up your back. How could this be? How could you not feel yourself begin to poop - “Baby make a doozy?” Mommy comes and coos, petting back the dark bouncing curls from your eyes. She bends you over like a ragdoll, the same as Daddy and laughs. “Looks like the miralax is working.” Miralax?. Mira… Mir- “It also seems somebody is having a slow day today.” Your head is so high in the clouds that you don’t even acknowledge the insult spat right in your face. Blinking slowly, heavily, Mommy has laid a mat out on the ground. Daddy gets a crinkling package. Thick white squares, your stomach grumbles… “Teddy,” you whimper, suddenly remembering the whole reason you even came out of your room. Teddy is gonna get lonely. Teddy needs a hug. Teddy needs you. You need Teddy. Teddy was your friend. Always tucked into your arm when you waddled like a penguin as Daddy and Mommy went about their day doing grown up stuff like counting the bills and cleaning the house and you were the little girl you’d promised to be. So you and Daddy could stay together. So you could prove your loyalty to Daddy… But now you had somehow ended up on your back. Mommy kneels between your open legs. You watch as she piles her blonde hair atop her head. Daddy always had a thing for blondes… and that wasn’t you. A shiver goes down your spine at the sudden coldness to your nether regions. A stained brown padding is balled up to the side. You're naked from the waist down. Mommy pulls another wipe from the crinkling package and automatically you lift your hips giving her better access. The action is ingrained into your mind. It’s as if you do this everyday. Another wipe. And then another. And another… Too soon you are sitting up again. A massively white diaper separates your thighs so far apart that you couldn’t even close them if you tried. And you don’t. Daddy says only naughty girls disobeyed like that and you are a good girl. You have to be a good girl to get Daddy back. But as you sit trapped within the walls of the playpen and the tv flickers on, you can’t even comprehend the irony of the whole situation. Mommy and Daddy snuggled up on the couch and their lips locked together. Hands on the face that you used to touch, breathing in his musky scent that you loved. All the while, it now belongs to another woman and you sit here in a diaper with your teddy and a grainy bottle of formula in front of the television. Soggy Froggy ribbits to life and you can not help but watch, wide-eyed. The bright flashing colors rope you in as Soggy Froggy begins to sing: “Soggy Froggy likes to hop! Soggy Froggy likes to jump! Do you know what else Soggy Froggy likes? Good girls! Good girls don’t cry and good girls don’t fight and good girls' diapers are never dry. Can you tell Soggy Froggy… are you a good girl?” You don’t know how long the show continues to play but by the constant warmth of your diaper, sky changing from night to day, and the summer months turning to a frigid cold, it doesn’t really matter. You’re Daddy’s little girl… whether you wanted to be or not. ooOoo A/N: Here’s just a little one shot for you all! I’m writing my other story, ‘A Twisted Road to Redemption’ if you would like to check that out but for now, enjoy!!

My background: I’m sporty and athletic in real life. One secret I have that nobody knows about is I’m a lifelong diaper lover. I remember when I was younger making lots of makeshift nappies (I’m from England so its nappies over Diapers) and my younger cousin who used to come over used to wear pull ups, I used to be really jealous of her and steal her mini mouse pull ups 😅 Story Background: This is 100% a true story which happened to me a few years ago when I was 23 in the hospital. I was going in for routine Hernia surgery, it was supposed to be a day procedure or 1 night stay depending on how I felt after the surgery but due to a few minor complications and events I ended up in the hospital for 4 nights. I hope you enjoy how this story unfolds it was a dream come true for me but also fulfilled with embrassment. FYI I’m not a great writer and not great with words so I do apologise if my storys bad to follow. Chapter 1: Arriving at hospital day of the surgrey After being on NHS waiting list for 2 years it was finally time to get my hernia surgery. I was excited to finally get my hernia repaired as it has held me back with a lot of my sporting activities this past few years. I arrived at the hospital and I brought my overnight bag. On the pre op assessment they told me that if I get my surgrey early that morning I should be eligble for day release which I definitely preferred but they said be prepared to have to stay one night so I brought my overnight bag. I arrived at the hospital and the letter said to go straight up to the ward, it was the surgical ward. I was waiting outside the door for quite a while at surgical ward before nurse spotted me and buzzed the door to let me into the ward. I showed her my referral letter and she was very nice and she pointed me up to the desk. Once I arrived at the ward desk there was 6 nurses behind the desk and the receptionist. I thought it was unusual for all the nurses to be sitting behind desk but it was first thing in the morning so their shifts had likely just started they where all either chatting or writing notes into a clipboard. All of the nurses was very attractive two looked older than me I would say one was mid 30s and other early 40s. The other nurses looked similar age to me around 25 and I seen one was a student nurse she looked younger. One of the girls was blonde and she was beautiful I saw her name was Shannon. She gave me a smile and said can I take a look at your letter and then she goes ahh Jack your rooms just down here let me show you and she led me down to which was believe it or not room 1 on a 30 room ward. Once I arrived she said she had to do a covid test first before they proceeded on. (This was 2023 year of my surgrey so covid tests where still relevant especially in hospital settings). She came back shortly with the test and put the swab up my nose and swirled it around. I always hated getting tests in my nose and it made my eyes water. After the covid test was taken she said she’ll be back in half an hour once the test was finished and to make myself comfortable and unpack. As I was unpacking Shannon came back 30 minutes later and said everything was fine with my COVID test. She then handed me a questionnaire to fill out in meantime and said she would be back shortly to explain details about my surgrey. I was filling out the questionnaire and it was general questions like medical history, any allergies, high blood pressure etc general standard questions except when I came to a tick box, day time incontinence, night time incontinence or both. Being a life long diaper lover this question sparked my interest. I mulled over what to do and I finished the rest of the questionnaire before coming back to incontinence question, I gave it some thought as I didn’t know what to do as my parents would be collecting me from the surgrey and if it was the next morning I don’t want them finding anything out. A rush of blood went to my head and I said “Fuck it” and ticked “Night Time Incontinence” and I set the clipboard down before I tried to change anything. It was only a few moments after I set the clipboard down Shannon came into my room again and asked me how I was getting on with the questionnaire. I told her I was all done. She passed me my surgical gown and said to me that I would need to put this on before surgrey, and due to where surgrey was she said you’ll have to remove your underwear, she said we do have these disposable underwear but you don’t have to wear them most male patients choose not to, and i held up the disposable underwear and they looked like skimpy womens panties and we both looked at each other and laughed and I said I don’t think I will be wearing these and we both laughed. She said she will give me a 30 minute heads up to get changed before surgrey into my surgrey clothes and not to worry. I said thats great and as she was leaving she picked up the clipboard and said she will give this to the surgeon have I everything filled out and I replied that I think so. Giving my response she started scanning through the questionnaire, I could see her pupils dialate as she was reading down you could see it in her face but she was really professional and passed no remarks. I knew it was at nightime incontinence one, and I could feel my cheeks burning red with embrassment. But she never said a thing she just replied everything looks great Jack I will give this to the surgeon, just sit tight and I’ll give you a heads up when your surgrey is near. I tried to keep myself busy in between times scrolling on tiktok, Netflix looking at diaper girl stories on tumblr etc anything to try keep me busy. It had passed and it was now 4pm. I was thinking am I ever going to get this surgrey. I was a bit nervous regarding the surgrey so I was keen to get it out of the way. Shortly after 4pm one of the nurses called Laura came into help. She was around 35 and she was on of the Nursing Auxiliarys on. She had been in a couple of times to chat during the day and we had gotten along really well. She came in and said I have bad and good news for you. I looked at her and said well then start with the bad. She said okay your surgreys not happening until the tomorrow morning, there was a couple of emergency surgeries had to be performed today unfortunately but the surgeons taking you first thing at 9am tomorrow morning, I looked at her and said okay and now for the good news. She smiled trying to cheer me up and goes the good news is I get to take your order for your free dinner and bed and breakfast. I looked at her and smiled to as I knew she was just trying to cheer me up. I looked at the sheet and I ordered shepards pie and porridge for breakfast. She told me dinners around 6pm. I used this as a good time to text my mum and dad and to tell them what happened, they where asking did I want them to come for evening visiting time and I told them not to worry its just one night I’ll get caught up on some netflix series on my iPad. This seemed to put them at ease. Shortly after dinner (which wasn’t the best) I got a bit bored. Having not had my surgrey yet I was obviously as mobile and quite capable. Shannon came in I hadn’t seen her in quite a while. I asked her if I could go stretch my legs outside the hospital and go to the hospital shop. She said normally patients aren’t allowed to without supervision but in these circumstances she said she doesn’t think it will matter. She told me when I come back to buzz the door and someone will open it. I left the ward and was delighted to be out walking about 12 hours in one room was enough. I walked around the outside of the hospital for around an hour I covered a right few steps. On my way back in front entrance the hospital shop was there. I decided to go get something in the shop as I was hungry for I didnt eat a lot of the shepards pie for dinner. I purchased a bottle of BPM, Haribo Starmix and a packet of Quavers Cheese. As I was making my way up to the ward I wondered was I going to be allowed to bring in what I had purchased in shop. I’m sure I was but I didn’t want to take risk either so I quickly took my hoodie off and I hit the crisps sweets and drink in my hoodie and put it under my arm. As i approached the ward I buzzed to get in. Same as this morning was no answer. After what felt like an age standing there a nurse I hadn’t seen before today spotted me outside and she came to the door. She asked me who I was and after briefly explaining who I was she said Shannon had told me when she was changing shifts come on ahead you haven’t missed tea and toast yet. I was delighted at the thought of getting tea and toast. As I was walking back to the room I noticed the Tea cart. Just futher on down was another cart, I gulped as I seen what was on top it was Abenda M4 Nappies(being a diaper lover I immediately recognised the brand when I seen them), i couldn’t believe it and the cart wasn’t very far from my room. As i reached my room memories started flooding back from this morning of me ticking night time incontinence. I was filled with so many emotions, excitment, butterflies, nerves, embrassment but a million thoughts raised through my mind. I’m not actually about to get put in a Nappy for bed am I? This would be to good to be true. To be continued… (this is only my first night of what ended up a four night stay in hospital. Its a true story let me know if use are interested in hearing rest and I will post next chapter)

So ive had the mild interest in using a diaper to its fullest extent ive read some posts on it and decided what's the worst that could happen so after my diaper was soaking (I had to wash the sheets I leaked so much) I decided to give it a try and the feeling of barely pushing and filling my seat was very nice the squish was nice is was very soft but then the smell hit me and that part was not my cup of tea Overall a good experience the tips and tricks on clean up and disposal were very helpful and was wondering about suggestions for a messing but without the stink