The Art Ghost (AB/DL)

[PeculiarChangeling]

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“I fold.”

Cassandra placed her cards facedown on the table, eyeing the other players. None of them gave away anything. 

She was beginning to doubt the logic of trying to isolate her mark at a poker table. 

As another hand was dealt, she squirmed in her chair, showing a hint of desperation. It was a deliberate action. Her need to pee was genuine, but she could have kept it hidden and subtle if she’d wanted to. Like a reverse tell, she was sending a deliberate signal so she could watch for reactions. 

Not counting herself or the dealer, there were four people around the card table, and one of them was the greatest art thief in the world. Cassandra was there to take him down if it was the only thing she ever did. With a little luck, the Art Ghost wouldn’t sleep another night free. 

Little was known about her Ghost. He seemed able to come and go like a phantom, slipping into museums, stealing their priceless artifacts, and vanishing without a trace. Rumor had it, he could shake your hand and slip away every single valuable thing on your person and you wouldn’t even feel more than a breeze. 

Historical valuables, gems that had belonged to british museums for a century, golden idols recovered from crumbling temples - nothing was safe. He would waltz in, take what he wanted, and be gone without ever being seen. His name, his description, the barest trace of appearance were completely unknown. In three years of chasing him, Cassandra had only learned two clues of any substance. 

First, that he was an avid gambler, and he would play at the most exclusive table in any town he visited.  Second, that he had certain proclivities for women in diapers. 

Her source, Vinnie, had been tight-lipped about where they’d received this information, but Vinnie promised that the tips were good and she had no reason to doubt him. 

Cassandra’s plan, then, was simple. Stage a collection of African artifacts and art that the Ghost couldn’t possibly pass up, find the most exclusive poker table in the city, and wait. She’d arranged the art, and she’d gotten the table - a little curtained-off area that gave partial privacy to the most high-rolling gamblers. 

If she played her cards right - literally - she’d be able to catch him. If not, she’d move back to the exhibit to watch it firsthand and ensure its safety. It was as close to foolproof as she could make it. 

Looking at her cards, she squirmed once more, shimmying her butt on the barstool. 

A young man with a charming smile glanced her way. “Feeling the pressure, sweetheart?” 

She glanced towards the bathroom at the far end of the poker hall. It was a subtle gesture in normal conversation, but at a poker table, it was sure to be noticed. Tossing chips in, she said, “I’m fine. Raise.” 

Next to the young man, an older figure with a grey mustache mumbled something about calling and added his own chips to the growing pile in the middle. 

“I think you’re full of it.” The british accent was clear on the third player, who winked at Cassie. “I fold.” 

“If she’s full of it, why’d you fold?” the woman next to him asked. She was made up with so much makeup that her actual features were impossible to determine, though it certainly gave her lips and eyes a sultry, smokey appearance. Cassandra never saw the appeal in spending that much time on her appearance, though in this light, it did seem more artistic than it might otherwise. 

“She’s not bluffing,” the brit explained, flashing a grin. “The bird needs to piss, and she doesn’t want to give up her seat.” 

“Why would I want to leave when I’m winning?” Cassandra asked, though she blushed anyways. It wasn’t all bluster - she’d actually made a tidy profit for herself. That wasn’t the goal, but she still considered it a small win. For the best poker players in the city, they weren’t all that. 

“See it all the time,” the brit said. “There’s a reason they scotch-guard these seats, luv.” 

“Well, I think it’s all crap,” the woman said, counting out chips. “I raise.” 

“You’re all too rich for my blood, I fold,” the young man said, pushing in his cards. “And I’ll admit, I’ve stooped to using a bottle once or twice before.” 

Cassandra eyed her, frowning. She didn’t care about winning hands as much as she cared about learning the other player’s tics. They were talking about how much Cassie had to pee now, and that was good. She wanted them to stay on that topic, and to stay on that topic, she had to keep the hand going. “Well, if you want to give me some of your money, why not give me all of it? I’ll pee my pants if it means cleaning you out. I raise.” 

“Too rich,” the older man mumbled, pushing in his cards with one hand while stroking his mustache. “Fold.” 

He barely talks at all, Cassie considered. Is he disinterested, or just pretending to be?

“I don’t know if I want to spend enough to see your cards,” the woman commented. “Good hand. I’m out.” 

Cassandra tried not to smile too broadly. She’d won with a seven high, that was no mean feat. But it wasn’t why she was there. 

She was there to find a diaper fetishist at a poker table, and to do that, she’d need to put aside her dignity for a moment. Squirming a little more as she raked in her pile of chips, Cassie stopped holding her aching bladder and let it flow. 

She’d worn white pants on purpose. It made a vibrant, obvious yellow stain as the hot urine streamed down her thighs, pooling on the stool and ultimately dripping down to the floor. The accident was visible at a glance, yellow stains standing out harshly on the white fabric so that all the other players could see what she’d done. Cassandra couldn’t have had a more photogenic accident if she’d staged it with lights and a point-of-view camera. 

“Do you need to stop?” the young man asked. 

“They don’t reserve seats here.” Cassie didn’t need to fake a blush, her cheeks were turning pink from authentic embarrassment. “I’ll keep playing.” 

“I don’t think anyone would want your seat, luv,” the brit pointed out. 

“Deal another hand,” Cassandra insisted. “I’ll play through.”

The dealer, quietly, cleared his throat. “You know… we’ve got something that could help with that here.” 

“A towel?” Cassie asked. 

“Something a bit more absorbent,” the dealer explained. “You’re not the only player who refuses to get up for the bathroom.”

That caught Cassie off guard. She’d been waiting for one of the other players to make a diaper-related comment. Since the dealer had been the one to bring it up, she didn’t have a clue which player could be her Ghost. 

She’d have to keep going, until she found something more solid. Maybe if she played along, she could catch someone staring at her ass or something. “Fine, whatever. As long as I can keep playing.” 

The dealer flashed a couple fingers at a server, calling them over. “A white cushion, on the double.” 

“And a martini, my throat’s getting dry,” Cassandra added. “In fact… a round for the table. I’m paying with their money, anyways.” 

That got her no small amount of polite jeering, which was the goal. She wanted them to like her, but to think she was cocky. The perfect mix of friendly underestimation, until she could isolate her Ghost. 

They played another hand, and she won a few more chips, and then the server returned with a tray of drinks in one hand and a thick, fluffy diaper held clearly in the other. 

Cassie accepted her martini first, and the diaper second, eyeing it with a blush, then eyeing the other players. She wanted to see if any of them seemed particularly interested.

Of course, all of them were. 

“Don’t stare, assholes,” she muttered, kicking off her shoes and slipping down her pants. 

There was no modest way to do this. Letting her soaked panties fall to the floor, she covered herself quickly with the padding, then fiddled with the velcro tabs a few times, trying to get them secure. It was a slap-dash job, and it probably wouldn’t work well, but that didn’t much matter. She wasn’t planning on using it, and if it leaked, well… that’d probably play to the Ghost’s kink even more. 

“No point putting these back on,” she said, letting her pants stay in a puddle on the floor, though she slipped back into her heels. “Keep dealing. I’m fine.” 

Her plan, it seemed, had a flaw. She’d wanted to see who would be the most interested in the diaper she was wearing, but it seemed the whole table was willing to steal a glance at her fluffy padding. It was all in good fun, too, which was the worst possible outcome - snickers and smirks were not a sign of a diaper kink, and the other four players all displayed them in equal measure. 

She just had to keep going. If nothing came of it in a few hours, she’d cash out and go protect the artifact exhibit. 

That was the plan. In practice, she started having problems. 

Cassandra was so flustered that she couldn’t focus. She couldn’t read the tells of the other players anymore, and it seemed like they were reading her like a book. 

In a couple hands, she’d lost a sizable chunk of her chips, and she had to start playing more cautiously. That slowed the loss, but it didn’t turn things around - it only meant that her chips started dwindling at a less precipitous rate. Worse, she was making no progress with finding the Ghost amongst the other four players. 

Finally, her luck ran completely out. 

“Do you have enough to ante?” the dealer asked, eyeing her tiny pile of remaining chips. 

Crap. I’ve come this far, but I’m still at a complete loss. 

“I… can go get more chips from the desk,” she said. 

“Don’t save seats,” the old man grumbled. “You leave, you’re out.” 

“Isn’t that the whole point of the diaper, anyhow?” the young man added. 

“Here.” The woman with the painted face slid over a hefty stack of chips towards her. “A loan, not a gift. Pay me back once you’ve got your head in the game again.”

Cassie counted it. It was a considerable loan from someone she didn’t know, but it was a lifeline to stay in the game. She took the chips. “Thanks.” 

“Not a lot of us play,” the woman replied. “Have to help my sisters out where I can.” 

Cassie nodded, tossing in enough to ante. “Deal me in.” 

As she sat there, looking at the new cards, her stomach began to gurgle. 

…

Twenty minutes later, Cassie was regretting her choice to stay. 

More than half the chips she’d borrowed were gone, and she was losing more with every hand. She was going to be running this operation at a loss, if she didn’t catch the Ghost. 

And, it seemed, she was going to have to catch the Ghost fast, because while she was willing to pee her pants and put on a diaper for the right cause, no power in the world would make her sit at the table and do anything else in that diaper voluntarily. 

One more hand, and then she would give up and call it a day. 

She glanced at her cards. Two pair, kings high. Not bad. 

“This might be my last hand,” she said out loud, eyeing the other four players as the dealer raked in their antes. “There’s certain things I’m not willing to do, even in a diaper.” 

That got a round of smirks, and the brit piped up, “You sure you’re not just running on us while you’re having a bad time, bird?” 

“I can hear her stomach growling,” the young man nodded. “She’s not lying. I wouldn’t envy her position, what since she already pissed her pants and all.” 

Cassie blushed. It was her bet. “I’ll raise.” 

It was embarrassing, but it had them talking about her diaper again, so that was good. 

The older man stroked his mustache. “Interesting strategy. Hoping other players can’t concentrate, because of the smell. Call.” 

“Raise,” the woman with the makeup said, simply, tossing in her chips. “And don’t forget, you still have to get me my chips back.” 

“I’ll go cash out and get you paid, don’t worry,” Cassie grumbled. 

“I’ll call,” the young man said. “And look, whatever you do, just make sure it doesn’t get on me.” 

Cassie had to stall for time. She still wasn’t sure who it was. “Raise.” 

“Fold,” the old man said, terse as ever, tossing in his cards. 

“I’ll raise,” the woman said, putting in a stack of chips almost as large as everything Cassandra had on hand. “You know, you did pretty well.” 

“Hmm?” Cassandra glanced at her, raising an eyebrow. 

“You almost caught me. Nobody’s ever gotten that close before.” 

Cassie’s whole body went cold. She knows. She’s- “I- I… I don’t know what you’re talking about.” 

“Sure you don’t, dear. This was such a nice display you put on for me,” the Ghost said, her makeup looking more like a sinister mask as she smiled. 

Cassandra realized, to some horror, that she’d never be able to pick this woman out of a lineup if she took her makeup off. Too much of her current appearance was hidden and fake. She had to move now, or she’d never get another chance. “You’re coming with m-” 

She started to stand, then almost fell over. Looking down, she saw the handcuffs around her ankles, attaching her feet securely to the base of the stool. Since the stool was bolted to the ground, so was Cassie. 

“I’d been thinking about retiring,” the Ghost said, smirking as she got to her feet and stepped towards Cassie. “But you put together such a nice trove of treasure for me, I couldn’t resist one last job. And when you made a pretty little piddle puddle on the floor, well, I knew you were something special. That’s why I had my boy here call for one of my special diapers.” 

“S-special?” Cassandra asked, clutching her belly as she felt it cramp up with sudden pain. “What do you mean?” 

“You’ll find out in a moment. First…” the Ghost stepped into arms reach, and Cassie lunged, but to no avail. She couldn’t get any leverage, and the Ghost seemed to sidestep her without any trouble. Reaching down, her slender fingers adjusted the tapes on Cassandra’s diaper, getting them nice and snug. “You were so nice to drink up, too. The laxatives mixed in should be kicking in nice and strong by now.” 

“You… you…” Cassie panted. Frowning, she glanced at the other players. “Why aren’t you reacting?” 

“Uh, we know her, luv,” the brit said. “Plays with us all the time.” 

“She usually cleans us out, too, but it’s plenty fun,” the young man replied. 

“They don’t know my name, of course, if that’s what you’re wondering,” the Ghost explained. “Just how I look when I come in. Now, you asked about it being special?” 

Reaching into her pocket, she thumbed a button, and the front of Cassie’s diaper began to buzz. 

Her breath caught in surprise and her face flushed as sensation began to thrumm, distracting and impossible to ignore. Her phone. She could call for-

“Ah, ah, ah,” the Ghost said, holding up Cassandra’s phone… and her wallet… and her keys… and her belly button piercing. “You can have these back later.” 

Cassandra stared at her possessions in shock. “Wh-what are you going to do with me?”

The Ghost smiled, sitting back down and glancing at her cards. “Nothing. Once you pay me back, I’ll even have the waiter give you the key to those handcuffs.” 

“I don’t have the chips to pay you back if I can’t go to the desk,” Cassie fumed, wincing at a stronger cramp in her belly. “It’s a trap.” 

“Not if you win this hand. I’d say there’s enough chips for you to pay me back in full in that pot.” The Ghost smiled. “Hey, you might even get a chance to catch me.” 

“I’m folding,” the young man said, putting up his hands and leaning back. “I just want to see how this plays out.” 

Cassie glared at the Ghost, trying not to gasp as the vibrator built into the front of her diaper increased in speed, then lowered again. Shoving her chips into the table, she said, “All in. I call. Two pair, kings high. Bitch.” 

The Ghost blinked once, glancing down at her cards. She looked… surprised. Shocked, even. 

I did it. I beat her, and-

“Awww, the baby got so close!” the Ghost declared, flipping her hand over. “Two pair, aces high.” 

Cassie’s heart dropped down into her stomach, and as the vibrator thrummed with intensity once more, she lost the will to hold it any longer. 

With a splorch and a whimper, the seat of her diaper sagged, quickly expanding as a torrent of mush flooded out. Cassandra could no more help herself from messing her pants as she could stop the dealer from raking all of her chips away, leaving her broke and without an escape. 

The Ghost smiled, stood, and leaned over to pinch Cassandra’s cheek. “Aww, isn’t the baby so cute, making a widdle messy in her diapers?” 

“I’m going to get you for this!” Cassandra yelled back, angrily, a little grunt escaping her lips involuntarily as the last wave of mush was packed into her oversized pampers. 

“Sure you will, cutie,” the Ghost teased. Reaching into a pocket, she pulled out a pill bottle. “These are more of ‘Mommy’s little helpers’, to keep babies like you regular. You had half a dose in your drink just now. Take too many, and they might have long-lasting effects.” Setting the bottle on the poker table, she glanced at the dealer. “Every time she takes one of these pills, let her ante out of my pot. I’ve got places to be.” 

Cassie stared. “Y-you’re just going to leave me here?” 

“Well, of course!” The Ghost laughed, full of mirth and amusement. “You need to earn back my money, and I’ve got some art to collect. Once I’m out of the country, I’ll send a message to cut you loose even if you haven’t got what’s owed - a picture of your stinky diapers and the museum’s African collection is more than enough payment, I think.” 

“I will hunt you down,” Cassie growled. “I will- ahh, ahh!” The vibrator picked up in intensity, rendering her blushy and incoherent for a moment as arousal started to burn inside her. 

“You will be working on your potty training for a few months, I think.” The Ghost chuckled. “Don’t worry, I’ll see to it that all those artifacts are returned to the countries they were stolen from. It’s what I do.” 

She leaned in, planting a kiss on Cassandra’s forehead. It left an obvious lipstick mark. “Have fun with your games, baby. I sincerely hope you enjoy yourself, because if you don’t start bluffing better, you’ll end up needing your diapers for a long, long time.”