Tracy 3 - <No title yet>

[Gummybear]

This story takes place a couple of months after Mission Improbable, and about half a year after Keeping Secrets.  It's hard for me to tell, but I don't think it's strictly necessary to read the previous stories to enjoy this one, but they do contain quite a bit of background information.  And as always, I will be updating the tags as the different parts are posted to avoid spoilers.  The same thing applies to the title.  I just haven't been able to come up with a good one yet. (Suggestions are welcome)  Updates for this text will be less regular than my previous stories since I'm still in the process of writing this one.

 

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"Damnit, damnit, damnit!" Tracy gave her office door repeated kicks as she tried to turn the key. The humidity-warped door frame finally surrendered and the key turned in the lock with a metallic scrape. Pushing the door open with her shoulder, Tracy backed through it, pulling the suitcase containing her drones and the remote control systems over the threshold. She kicked the door closed and glared out of the window across the room. The rain was pouring down outside and even the quick run across the street from the parking garage had soaked her to the bone. Tracy hated rain. At least she hated rain when she had to be outdoors in it. Being curled up with a good book or a movie while the rain was beating against the window was a near-perfect afternoon. Also, the rain made her short hair frizzy. Usually Tracy's hair would refuse to be anything other than straight, even if she used ozone layer-ruining amounts of industrial-strength hair spray. So Tracy considered the damp, unmanageable half-curls a personal insult.

 

Tracy opened the suitcase and removed all the drones, leaving them on her desk to dry. Then she headed for the bathroom, every squishing step leaving wet footprints on the floor. Tracy kicked off her shoes and shrugged off her jacket, hanging it to dry over the top of the door. The jeans were more of a struggle to get off. Even though Tracy favoured baggy trousers, they still seemed to cling to her legs, resisting every effort to be removed.

 

After finally managing to pull the wet denim down past her hips along with her underwear, Tracy tried to step out of the pants, only to lose her balance and almost fall face-first against the door. She caught herself at the last second and sat down on the toilet to peel off the stubborn fabric. Her t-shirt was next, landing with a splat next to the inside-out jeans.

 

Tracy stood and leaned on the sink for a moment, staring at the woman in the mirror. She looked wet and miserable; like a kitten after a bath. Tracy reached into the shower and turned on the water. It cycled through its customary three seconds of lukewarm before proceeding to glacial, then boiling, before settling at a somewhat comfortable temperature. She stepped into the shower, feeling the water pound down on her scalp. Her entire body felt gross and greasy.

 

I guess that's what I get from having a three-day stakeout above a fast food joint.

 

She poured a generous amount of shampoo into her hand. As she massaged it into her hair, a flowery smell filled the room. Hopefully it would get rid of the smell of deep fryer fumes. She couldn't wait to put the entire case behind her.

 

It had started out innocently enough: A husband suspecting his wife of cheating on him. When he left town, Tracy had followed the wife to a no-tell hotel. Something in the building next to the hotel had made her small drones go completely haywire. So after having retrieved the drones, Tracy had had to resort to renting a room below her target and using an old-fashioned borescope through the ventilation system.

 

The wife had not been having an affair. She was either having eight different affairs, or she was working as a prostitute. Five men, two women, and one person who had arrived dressed as Richard Nixon and stayed in costume the whole time. She hadn't left the room for three days.

 

On the second day she had taken a break from having sex to run a five-hour high-stakes poker game. Tracy had to admit she was impressed with the woman's stamina. Over the entire three days, she hadn't slept or eaten anything, consuming nothing but copious amounts of alcohol and drugs that Tracy couldn't identify.

 

Tracy had taken pictures of everyone she could, but only to document what went on. The woman's husband hadn't paid for identification, so she would have to ask him if he even wanted that after having seen the pictures. She hoped he would, since that would mean extra money for very little actual work. Tracy would mostly be waiting while the computer did all the heavy lifting.

 

I'm going to sleep for a week.

 

It had been almost sixty hours of watching people having sex through a fish-eye lens with no sleep and only rushed bathroom breaks. Usually Tracy would wear diapers during stakeouts, and not just for the convenience of fewer bathroom breaks. But after having taken one look at the shower in the room she'd rented, she had decided that there was no way she was going to risk tetanus and seven other diseases by using it.

 

Tracy rested her forehead against the wall, watching the soap suds being rinsed off her body and spiralling down the drain. She let her hand wander down her stomach. She scratched the stubble she found and sighed.

 

I guess I'll have to fix that.

 

She grabbed the razor and soap and carefully shaved. She didn't actually need to, but she preferred to be clean-shaven when wearing diapers. It was less itchy, and the smooth skin felt better against the diaper. It also had the added bonus of getting praise from Kat.

 

Tracy turned off the water and stepped out of the shower, drying herself before wrapping the towel around herself. She picked up the clothes and hung them all to dry over the shower curtain rod, on the sink or wherever she could find room. The bathroom would stink of old fry oil, but at least the rest of the tiny apartment wouldn't. She opened the tiny window ever so slightly before leaving the room and closing the door behind her.

 

I guess I'm doing laundry as well tomorrow.

 

Tracy checked that the front door was locked then headed for the bedroom. She pulled the curtains closed and let the towel fall to the floor. What she wanted to do most of all was just to lie down and go to sleep. However, there was still one thing she needed to do. Reaching into the large plastic box under the bed, she pulled out one of her thick overnight diapers and unfolded it on the bed. Kat had picked out the overnight diapers using some very clear criteria. They had to be so thick that Tracy would have to waddle while wearing them. They also had to be big and noisy enough that they'd be pretty much impossible to hide. And finally, they had to be absorbent enough that Tracy could wear them for an entire night without risking a leak.

 

Tracy sat down on the diaper and lay back. When she sprinkled baby powder on herself, she smiled as the fine white powder tickled her freshly shaved and sensitive skin. Spreading her legs far apart Tracy pulled the diaper up between them and held it to her stomach with one hand while taping it in place with the other. The thick material felt almost like a giant gloved hand cupping her entire crotch. It was a little too stiff to be comfortable, but Tracy knew that how to fix that. She scooted herself to the corner of the bed and sat there, rocking back and forth, using the corner to soften the material. It also had the added benefit of feeling good, but Tracy was too tired to even masturbate. She just wanted to sleep. Pulling an oversized t-shirt over her head, she punched her pillow a couple of times to give it the right shape, pulled a thin blanket up to cover herself and fell asleep almost instantly.

[Gummybear]

When Tracy woke up, the rain was still beating against the window. She checked the alarm clock, an old wind-up clock she had found in a second-hand store, and found that she had slept for almost eighteen hours. Her diaper was wet and itchy, but that was not really a surprise. After all, when she had gone to bed last night she had been so tired that she could probably have slept through an air raid. Tracy reached down and checked the mattress: Still dry. Sitting up, she felt the wet diaper squish under her butt. She pulled off the t-shirt, wincing slightly. Her back felt stiff and sore; as did her shoulders, and her neck. She stretched and massaged her neck trying to work out the kinks, to no avail.

 

Leaving the blanket and the t-shirt at the foot of the bed, Tracy groaned as she rose. The diaper sagged, hanging heavily between her legs as she waddled to the bathroom.

 

The clothes from the day before were still damp, but at least they weren't dripping any more. Tracy stuffed everything except her jacket into her laundry bag and tossed it through the door to the bedroom. She stood broad-legged and carefully undid the tapes of her diaper with one hand, while holding it in place with the other. When the third tape came loose, the last one ripped and the heavy weight of the soiled diaper landed in Tracy's hand.

 

She carefully bundled it up and put it in a plastic bag, tying it closed and leaving it in the sink for the time being. Then she stepped into the shower. For some reason, the water wasn't its usual ice cold temperature. It was the perfect temperature right away.

 

 

This is pretty nice. I really must start taking more four pm showers.

 

 

It didn't last. After just a few minutes, the temperature began dropping, telling Tracy the hot water was running out.

 

 

Well, it was nice while it lasted.

 

 

She quickly rinsed off the soap suds in the uncomfortably chilly water. After drying herself, Tracy stood for a while in her bedroom, debating whether of not to put on a fresh diaper. It wasn't like she needed them, but over the last six months with Kat, she had grown to really like the padded feeling they provided. So much, in fact, that there were days when she would put a folded towel down her pants just to emulate the feeling of being diapered. She never actually used those towel diapers though.

 

Eventually, Tracy decided against it. After all, she would probably have to meet with her current client and she didn't want anything that didn't radiate professionalism and trustworthiness. She settled on a pair of khaki pants and a plain black t-shirt.

 

After microwaving a frozen burrito, Tracy sat down at her desk and connected the borescope to her computer. There was a soft beep as the transfer of all the pictures she had taken over the past days started. There were a lot. While the computer worked, Tracy checked her email. Nothing important, at least nothing that couldn't wait.

 

Looking through her note book, she found the phone number of her latest client and called him. She didn't have to wait long for him to pick up.

 

"Mr. Drayton? This is Tracy Bullit." There were voices in the background.

 

"One moment," the voice on the other end of the line said. "Guys, give me a minute, I have to take this." There was the sound of a door closing. "OK, Miss Bullit. What is it?"

 

"I have the... materials that you requested," Tracy said, choosing her words carefully. If Mr. Drayton was at work, there was no telling who might be listening in. "Would you like to meet to discuss them?"

 

"Uh, yeah, sure. Today's a little crazy here, but how about lunch tomorrow?"

 

"I can do lunch," Tracy said, mentally giving herself a high five. Lunch meetings generally meant food; much better food than she would usually eat, and the clients tended to pay for it as well.

 

"The restaurant at the Monarch Hotel downtown. Half past twelve?"

 

"That works for me," Tracy replied, grinning.

 

"Good." The line went dead.

 

Tracy listened to the silent phone for a couple of seconds. Then she hung up. The computer was done moving files, so she disconnected the borescope and started writing her report and bill.

 

Despite the number of people involved in the case, writing the report was a simple matter. Tracy felt that reducing sixty hours of non-stop sex and poker involving almost a dozen people to half a page of text and an itemised bill ought to be less straightforward. The whole thing was done by the time she finished her burrito.

 

She printed out the report, as well as a few choice pictures. Then she found a new thumb drive in her desk drawer. Cracking open the plastic packaging and plugging it into the computer, Tracy copied all the pictures as well as her report. The printouts and thumb drive went into an old-fashioned manilla envelope. It wasn't really necessary, but when someone hired a private investigator, they had certain expectations; expectations formed by old movies. And Tracy had found that playing to those expectations generally meant a better pay.

 

She stuck a post-it note with "Drayton" on the envelope and locked it in her desk drawer. Then she sat back and put her feet on the desk.

 

"OK, what's next?" Tracy asked the empty office. She knew she would have to go to the laundromat at some point, but she'd be willing to do almost anything else before having to go out in the rain again. But the only other thing she had to do was to get groceries, which also meant going outside.

 

Tracy sighed. There was just no avoiding it. Glancing out of the window, she saw that the wind had died down, so at least she could use an umbrella instead of her raincoat.

 

She fetched the laundry bag from the bedroom floor, looked around to see if there were any other clothes that needed washing as well, then grabbed the umbrella and her phone and stepped outside.

 

 

~~~

 

 

The laundromat was almost empty when Tracy walked in. The only ones in there was a pair of teenagers watching one of the driers. They seemed to be high as kites and based on their discussion, they were finding the meaning of life hidden in the patterns of the tumbling clothes.

 

Tracy picked a machine as far away from them as possible and loaded her clothes. The smell of old fry oil make her wrinkle her nose. She put in a little more detergent than she actually needed, just for good measure. Then she sat down to read a book while she waited.

 

She was about two chapters in when one of the two pharmaceutical philosophers decided to pick a fight with the vending machine in the corner. As the argument grew louder, Tracy buried her nose in her book and tried her best to be invisible while at the same time keeping an eye on what was happening.

 

"You god-damn robot. You're not going to hijack the global economy! Not if I can help it!" The young man adopted some kind of martial arts stance, albeit a wobbly one. He let out a loud, incoherent war cry and punched the vending machine. The howls of pain coupled with his friend's laughter brought a little smile to Tracy's face, but she hid it behind her book.

 

The poor, injured freedom fighter from the vending machine wars sat back down, cradling his arm. Tracy could hear him muttering something about stupid machines.

 

"I think it's broken," his friend said, poking the injured hand.

 

"Yeah, and I didn't even get my beer."

 

Tracy glanced at the vending machine. There were soda and energy drinks in it, but no beer. She remained silent, just keeping an eye on the pair while they retrieved their clothes and left.

 

Seizing the opportunity while the laundromat was empty, Tracy pulled out her phone and dialled Kat's number. It took a while before she answered.

 

"Hey Häschen."

 

"Hey. You busy?"

 

"A little. I'm- Oh, hang on."

 

"Sure," Tracy said, even though she was fairly sure that Kat was no longer listening.

 

"No, you idiot!" Kat's muffled shout was clearly audible. "You don't pack latex anywhere near something with metal edges."

 

Tracy wasn't sure if she was officially eavesdropping, or if this was something Kat meant for her to hear.

 

"If you can't follow simple orders, and use a minimum of common sense, I'm going to make you walk back to your room still wearing that."

 

Tracy couldn't help wondering what 'that' was.

 

Maybe a French maid outfit.

 

For the past week, Kat had been out of town, accompanying a client to some kind of business conference. It seemed like she wasn't about to pack her own suitcase if she didn't have to.

 

"Sorry about that," Kat said, her voice soft. It was a striking contrast to the harsh clipped tones from only seconds earlier.

 

"Sounds like you're having fun." Tracy tried to not sound catty. It wasn't like she was jealous; she just missed Kat.

 

"Yeah, well Doofus here likes to be humiliated and berated. Don't you?" Kat said to both Tracy and her client.

 

"Yes Miss Katarina," a voice in the background said.

 

Kat sighed. "Look, it's a little hectic here, but it's only a couple of hours left until it's over. If you call me back, say nine-ish, I should be done with everything and we can talk properly. I think Doofus here is trying to earn one last spanking before the week is up." Tracy could almost hear Kat's eyes roll at that last statement.

 

"Okay," Tracy said quietly. "Do you want me to be, you know... prepared?"

 

"Do you want to? Do you need a little bunny-time?"

 

Tracy bit her lip. "Yeah, a little," she admitted.

 

"Aww."

 

"Miss you."

 

"Miss you too, Häschen."

 

Tracy hung up, and stared at the phone screen for several seconds. The on-screen clock said 18:25.

 

Two and a half hours. I can manage that.

 

She picked up her book again, but it no longer seemed all that interesting. After Tracy realised that she had been reading the same page twice, she put it away and checked the clock again. 18:32. She let out a frustrated groan and let her head fall back to rest against the window behind her. It'd still be another half an hour before her clothes were done.

 

By the time Tracy left the laundromat, the rain had finally stopped. The walk to the grocery store still involved dodging splashes from passing cars, but she made it there mostly unscathed. One puddle had been deeper than she thought so every other step squished wetly.

 

The fluorescent lights in the grocery store buzzed and plinked loudly enough to make it hard to hear which song was being mutilated over the speakers. It seemed like somebody had been looking up playlists from an oldies station, because at one point Tracy could have sworn it was playing an easy-listening version of 'Firestarter'.

 

Ten minutes later, Tracy left the store with her laundry in one hand, a bag of groceries in the other, and three ear worms competing for attention in her head. The walk home was mostly quiet, but Tracy spotted what had to be an undercover police car on a stakeout five buildings down from hers. It was impossible not to wonder what they were watching, so instead of heading straight for her office, Tracy crossed the street to check in with the one person who somehow seemed to know everything that went on in a two-block radius.

 

"Hey Jamal! You there?" Tracy called out when she saw that Jamal's booth at the entrance of the parking garage was empty.

 

"Down here." Jamal's voice echoed up from the lower level.

 

Tracy headed down the ramp until she saw Jamal ambling along between the cars, checking for signs of break-ins or vandalism.

 

"So, how's my favourite P.I. doing? Did you catch them cheating?" Jamal put his little notebook away.

 

"Yeah, I- Hang on, I didn't tell you about my case."

 

"Come on Tracy, most of your cases are about snooping on cheating spouses." Jamal grinned. "Plus you've been away all weekend, and you had your tools with you. So unless you and that girlfriend of yours are into some really freaky-"

 

"Okay okay okay; yeah, I was working," Tracy interrupted to stop Jamal from continuing that sentence.

 

Jamal shrugged and headed back towards the ramp. Tracy slung her laundry bag over her shoulder and followed.

 

"So, did you see the cop car down the street?"

 

"Mm-hmm."

 

"What do you think they're watching?"

 

Jamal shrugged again. "Dunno. Probably the pawn shop. Somebody got busted there trying to hock a car full of stolen TVs on Saturday."

 

"I guess somebody must have tipped the cops off."

 

"Yeah. Somebody must have." Jamal reached his booth and sat down in his chair. When he picked up his half-finished crossword puzzle, Tracy knew she wouldn't get any more out of him.

 

"Well, I'd better get going before these things thaw." Tracy lifted her bag of groceries.

 

"'Kay," Jamal mumbled around the pencil he was already biting, his attention seemingly focused on the crossword.

 

 

~~~

 

 

Tracy sat cross-legged on the bed, all her pillows bunched up in a pile behind her back. She brushed a few stray crumbs off the giant t-shirt she was wearing and fidgeted. The overnight diapers were comfortable enough to sleep in, but sitting in them, on a slightly lumpy mattress was trickier. It bunched up in a very distracting way. Tracy glanced at the alarm clock. Eight fifty. She picked up her phone and stared at the dark screen and sighed.

 

Just ten more minutes.

 

Tracy put the phone down again and leaned back, staring up at the ceiling. Nothing new there.

 

Oh stop being so anal about this. She said nine-ish, not nine on the dot.

 

Tracy sat up straight and picked up the phone again. She hit speed-dial 1 and waited. It only took a couple of rings before Kat answered.

 

"Hey there Häschen."

 

"Hey Kat. Or is it still Miss Katarina?"

 

"Nah, I'm off the clock," Kat said with a chuckle.

 

"Good," Tracy whispered, more to herself than to Kat, but still earning her another chuckle.

 

"So how long did you sit there staring at the clock before calling?"

 

"Not long," Tracy lied.

 

"Really? Is mommy's little bunny being less than truthful? That's no way for good little girls to behave."

 

That signalled to Tracy that Kat was already in play mode. She snuggled in deeper in the pile of pillows.

 

"I'm sorry," she said, trying to sound sincere.

 

"That's better. Now, are you ready for a little bunny time?"

 

"Mm-hmm."

 

"Turn on the camera," Kat said. "I want to see."

 

Tracy activated the selfie camera, giving Kat a look at her giant t-shirt and the mound of pillows behind her.

 

"And what are you wearing underneath that t-shirt?" Kat asked, obviously already knowing the answer.

 

"Diapers." Tracy couldn't figure out why, but admitting she wore diapers, actually saying it out loud, was still embarrassing. Even if it was in private and nobody but Kat could hear what she said.

 

"Show me."

 

"Kaaaat, come on."

 

"Now now. Be a good girl and let mommy see if you put your diapers on right."

 

Tracy slowly lifted the t-shirt, exposing the white plastic underneath.

 

"Is that one of your thick ones?"

 

"Yeah. I kinda wanted that thick, padded feeling today, like when you're here."

 

"Aww, you missed me?"

 

"It was a long weekend. And a long week before that," Tracy whined, trying to justify herself.

 

"It's OK Häschen; I've missed you too. And I'll be back tomorrow."

 

Tracy pouted. "I wish I could pick you up at the airport, but I have to meet a client."

 

"That's all right. Do you want to come over for dinner? I have some ideas that I want to run by you."

 

"Really?"

 

"Yup."

 

"And you're not even gonna give me a hint? Not even a little one?"

 

"Nope," Kat said enigmatically. "You're just going to have to wait until tomorrow to find out.

 

"What-EVER are we going to do in the meantime?" Tracy smiled innocently at the camera.

 

"Well, first of all, you can lie back. And close your eyes."

 

Tracy slumped back, letting her body sink into the pillows.

 

"Is my little baby girl comfy?"

 

"Mm-hmm." Tracy nodded.

 

"Now, imagine me sitting behind you. Just holding you close. Making sure your t-shirt is hiked up, so Auntie Cory can see your diaper if she comes by to visit."

 

"But what're you wearing then?" Tracy asked, trying hard to not sound like an obscene phone call.

 

"Just my shorts."

 

"Mmm. Boobage." Tracy giggled.

 

"I figured you'd like that." Kat's smile was practically audible. "Are you feeling relaxed?"

 

"Mm-yeah."

 

"And knowing you, you've had a lot to drink since we spoke."

 

Tracy could see where this was headed. "A bit, yeah."

 

"Put your hand on your diaper." Kat paused. "That's my hand. Can you feel how it's pushing down. Can you feel the pressure?"

 

Tracy nodded, even though the camera was just pointed at the ceiling.

 

"Feel how it's building? You want to let it go. To just relax and let it all out. Don't you?"

 

"Mmmm."

 

"It's OK, you know. Mommy's here. You can just relax and let it all out. All the stress and the worries; everything is all right. Just let go."

 

Kat's voice was almost hypnotic and Tracy could feel herself relaxing; the tension draining out of her like the water from a tub. The pressure remained though.

 

"Kat? I have to..."

 

"It's OK. You can let it all go."

 

Tracy could almost feel Kat stroking her hair. It felt safe and comfortable. She took a breath and then warmth flooded her diaper, the hissing sound matching Tracy's slow exhale.

 

"Is my little bunny getting wet?" Kat purred.

 

"Yeah." Tracy wrinkled her nose and nodded.

 

"And do you like how it feels?"

 

"Mmm. Feels good." Tracy sighed as the torrent slowed to a trickle and then stopped.

 

"And just how does it feel?"

 

"My butt's warm." Tracy giggled. "And it feels tingly."

 

Why the hell am I talking like a four-year-old?

 

"And does mommy's little bunny want to play with her tingly bits?"

 

"Kinda. But maybe not right now."

 

"Good. 'Cause I want you to not do that until we've had a chance to talk tomorrow. Do you think you can manage that?"

 

"I guess." Tracy picked up the phone and pouted at the camera.

 

"Aww, don't be sad. It'll be worth it. I promise."

 

"Okaaay Kat." Tracy drawled. She fidgeted as the diaper began to swell in a most distracting way.

 

"Now, I have to get up at the crack of dawn to go to the airport. What do you say we just snuggle like this until I have to go. Does that sound good?"

 

"It seems like a reasonable compromise," Tracy said with a stiff upper lip.

 

"Oh look at my little bunny using big, grown-up words." Kat laughed. "So, you wanna tell me about your weekend?"

 

"No names."

 

That was their deal. They would both vent to one another about their jobs, but not mentioning names. That way, they could tell themselves they weren't betraying their respective clients' confidence; they would merely be gossiping.

 

Tracy grinned. "What's the longest time you've spent having sex?"

[kerry]

3 hours ago, Gummybear said:

pharmaceutical philosophers

I LOVE this!

[Gummybear]

8 hours ago, kerry said:

I LOVE this!

Well, it was either that or "space cadets", and I do love some good alliteration.

[Jayme]

On 8/21/2024 at 11:17 PM, Gummybear said:

Well, it was either that or "space cadets", and I do love some good alliteration.

Those two could have been on some Enhanced Elevation...

[Gummybear]

Tracy walked through the door to the restaurant at the Monarch Hotel. The lunch crowd filling the place was almost exclusively business people. Tracy felt underdressed wearing what she liked to think of as her government agent disguise. But some of the ties the other guests wore probably cost more than her entire suit.

 

The low buzz of conversation was just loud enough to make it hard to eavesdrop and the waiters didn't linger by the tables. Tracy spotted Drayton almost right away and headed for his table.

 

"Mr. Drayton."

 

"Ms. Bullit." Drayton looked up from his salad. He seemed to be in a good mood, but Tracy had a feeling it wouldn't last. "Please, have a seat."

 

Tracy put her briefcase next to the chair and sat down. She took the menu the waiter handed her and pretended to look at it. She had checked the menu online before coming and already knew what she wanted.

 

"There's no sesame seeds in this, right?" Tracy asked the waiter and pointed to a stir fry dish on the menu.

 

"No ma'am."

 

"Good. I'll just have that then." She looked at the water carafe already on the table and decided not to push it by ordering anything else to drink.

 

"Well?" Drayton asked once the waiter had left.

 

"One moment." Tracy opened her briefcase and brought out a dark grey cylinder the size of a hockey puck. She flipped a small switch on its side and set it on the middle of the table. The device emitted a barely audible electronic hiss.

 

"Noise generator," Tracy said at Drayton's unspoken question. "To prevent surveillance. I don't expect it to be necessary, but you never know." He nodded.

 

"About the... materials," Drayton began.

 

"Yes, about that." Tracy patted the briefcase. "I've got them right here."

 

"So there's definite proof?"

 

Tracy nodded slowly. "I'm afraid so, yes."

 

Drayton sighed. "Photos?"

 

"I printed out a few of them, but they're all on the thumb drive, along with my report." Tracy pulled out the manilla envelope and handed it to him.

 

As Drayton started to open it, Tracy put her hand on his to stop him. "You might not want to do that right here," she warned.

 

Drayton slid the envelope onto his lap, hiding it under the tablecloth as the waiter returned to put a plate of steaming food in front of Tracy.

 

When the waiter departed, Drayton opened the envelope, keeping it out of sight. His eyes widened as he saw the pictures.

 

Tracy took a bite of the stir-fry. It was just the right combination of spicy, chewy and crunchy. It felt inappropriate to be eating right now, but it would help maintain the impression that this was a business-as-usual lunch.

 

Drayton grew pale as he slowly flipped through the pictures. "Is that...?"

 

"Richard Nixon? Yeah. He stayed in costume the whole time, so he's going to be hard to identify. But do you want me to put names to the other faces?" Tracy asked quietly, trying to sound empathetic.

 

Drayton shook his head. His slumped form looked smaller somehow. "No..." he said, sounding numb. "Who they are isn't really important." He put the papers back in the envelope, but one of the photos slipped out of his grasp and fell to the floor. Thankfully, it landed face-down.

 

Tracy put down the fork while Drayton picked up the photo and hurriedly put it back in the envelope. "I know a good divorce lawyer that could probably get things settled without those pictures coming out." She dug out one of Nalah Wilford's cards from her notebook. It wasn't like Tracy was getting kickbacks for steering cases Ms Wilford's way, but over the last couple of months, her firm had hired her for quite a few easy surveillance jobs.

 

"Thanks," Drayton said. He put the card in his pocket without looking at it. Then he just sat there, staring out the window behind Tracy. She looked at the half-eaten plate of food in front of her, her appetite gone.

 

She pretended to check her watch. "Well, if you'll excuse me, I have another meeting." Tracy rose and picked up her briefcase. "If you change your mind about ID-ing those people, just give me a call, okay?"

 

"Mm-hmm." Drayton nodded.

 

She put a hand on Drayton's forearm. "I know this seems terrible, but please, Mr Drayton, don't do anything rash."

 

If you're dead or in jail, you can't pay my bill.

 

As Tracy left the table and headed for the elevator, she wondered when she had turned into such a cynic.

 

 

~~~

 

 

"And then he just sat there, looking like somebody had just shot his puppy." Tracy sighed and reached for another piece of garlic bread.

 

"Aww, my poor soft-hearted little bunny." Kat said and smiled. She ladled more sauce on the spaghetti in front of her. Kat's kitchen was filled with the scent of garlic, tomato, and a bunch of other herbs and spices Tracy couldn't identify.

 

"It's not funny. It made me wish I hadn't found anything."

 

"I know, I know." Kat put the ladle back in the saucepan and turned the handle towards Tracy.

 

"I'm good," Tracy said and shook her head. Her spaghetti had a greasy, reddish colour, unlike Kat's which was looking more like worms drowning in a pool of blood. "But do you want a spoon for that noodle soup?" She nodded towards Kat's plate.

 

Kat slurped up a mouthful of spaghetti, a strand whipping her chin and leaving a red streak before disappearing between her lips. "There is no spoon," she said in a high-pitched voice.

 

Tracy just stared incredulously at her for several seconds. "You're such a dork." Kat grinned back at her and wiped her chin.

 

"Maybe, but at least I'm a good cook. And knowing you, you've been eating crap these last days."

 

"Not just crap," Tracy mumbled defensibly. "I had some vegetables."

 

"Onion rings don't count," Kat pointed out. "Nor does ketchup." She scooped up some more spaghetti from the pot and put it on Tracy's plate. "Now eat up. You're going to need the energy."

 

"Oh?" Tracy said, her interest piqued. "Big plans?" She started as she felt Kat's foot against her calf.

 

"You could say that." Kat sipped her wine. "I've been thinking."

 

"Bad idea. That never leads to anything good."

 

"Oh shush. Like I said, I've been thinking. You know how you like to 'help out' when Cory and me have sex."

 

"Yeah?" Tracy said hesitantly. She could practically hear Kat's air quotes. "If you count me holding her like I'm some kind of living bondage accessory as 'helping out'."

 

"Have you wanted to 'help out' when it's just you and me; and no Cory?"

 

"You mean like when you..." Tracy searched for the right words. "...have a little quality time, when you think I'm asleep? You want me to... give you a hand?" Tracy couldn't resist grinning at that.

 

"Not quite. I know how you're not crazy about that."

 

"Mm-hmm."

 

"But maybe we could start by you not pretending to be asleep when I masturbate. So instead of being a sneaky little voyeur, you could be my audience." Kat smiled sheepishly. "My 'captive' audience?" she added quietly.

 

My god. Is she actually blushing?

 

"Are you saying you want to tie me up like Cory?"

 

"Well, you are mommy's helpless little bunny, aren't you?" Kat stroked Tracy's leg with her foot under the kitchen table. "But no, not quite like Auntie Cory. She likes a couple of extra ropes that makes struggling more... interesting." Kat grinned. "And I don't think we should do that. At least not yet."

 

"Tracy nodded. "No, probably not."

 

"Even if I'm sure you'd look stunning all trussed up like a Christmas turkey." Kat's foot travelled up Tracy's leg to rest on the edge of the chair between her knees.

 

Tracy swallowed. It wouldn't be the first time she was technically helpless with Kat. She would routinely wrap her in a sheet or blanket. But ropes or straps or whatever bondage toys Kat would be using was different.

 

"Rope everywhere," Kat purred. Then she lifted another forkful of spaghetti to her mouth, sucking in the slippery strands.

 

"But you know: Baby steps."

 

Tracy thought about it. Having been there with Kat and Cory, first as a spectator, then later as an 'assistant' had been thrilling. But she didn't feel ready to actually have sex with somebody. Even if that somebody was Kat. It wasn't that she didn't love her; she did. Maybe it was that feeling of vulnerability that being with someone like that was what held her back. It didn't have the safety net that a VR or her hand down her pants had.

 

But I trust Kat, don't I?

 

The nagging voices in Tracy's mind all shut up as she pondered the question. She noticed that Kat had stopped eating and was looking at her.

 

"OK," Tracy said after what felt like an hour. "But maybe we start with just the tying up, so I can get used to you doing that instead of wrapping me up in a sheet like a giant burrito."

 

"Sounds like a good idea." Kat paused, suddenly looking uncharacteristically hesitant and unsure. "So when would you like to try?"

 

Now it was Tracy's turn to smile. "You know, I really missed you this last week. Really really missed you... mommy."

[Gummybear]

"Are you sure about this?" Kat said.  She bent down and pulled a black gym bag out from under the bed, thumping it down next to her.

"Not really."  Tracy swallowed and shook her head slightly.  "But I did promise I'd try something new."  She shifted her weight from foot to foot.

"Okay, we'll take it slow.  One baby step at a time."  Kat smiled reassuringly.  She grabbed the waistband of Tracy's jeans and pulled her closer.  Then she undid the button and pulled the zipper down, revealing the black boxer briefs underneath.

"Aww.  You didn't dress for the occasion."  Kat pouted theatrically as she ran her fingertips across the warm skin of Tracy's stomach, making her swallow.

"Relax Häschen.  Breathe."

Tracy let out a breath she hadn't realised she was holding.

"That's better."  Kat looked up at Tracy.  "Now remember we can stop this whenever you want.  Or just slow down if you feel like things are going too fast.  That's what safe words are for.  I'm not going to be upset if you use it.  This is just as much for you as it is for me."

"Yeah."  Tracy nodded slightly.  "I know."

Kat smiled and stood.

"Would you like me to put on something before we start?"

"You mean like music or something?"

Kat just stuck out her tongue at Tracy who grinned back.

"But seriously, do you want me to get dressed up so you get the 'full experience'?"  Kat didn't make air quotes with her fingers, but she might as well have.

"I don't know.  I kinda like what you're wearing now.  At least for now."  Tracy looked down.  "If that's OK with you," she added quickly.

"Of course Häschen.  Like I said: Baby steps."  Kat stroked Tracy's cheek.

So, how do we start this?" Tracy asked after a little while.

Kat cocked her head slightly to the left.  "Maybe we should start by getting you dressed for the occasion."

"Aww, do we have to?" Tracy said with badly feigned reluctance.

"This isn't a five-minute thing; so yes, you have to.  After all mommies make the rules and their little girls do as they're told."

"Stupid rules."  Tracy pushed out her lower lip in her best pout.  

Kat just smiled as she reached into the box under the bed and pulled out the now-familiar, white, plastic-covered rectangle of one of Tracy's thickest overnight diapers.  Putting the diaper down on the bed, she pushed Tracy back until she lay on her back.

"You just relax and be a good little girl and let mommy take care of everything."

"Okay," Tracy said meekly, her tone signalling to Kat that she could start.

Kat smiled and leaned closer.  She undid the buttons on Tracy's jeans one by one, and tried to pull them down.  When that didn't work, she lifted Tracy's legs onto her shoulders and straightened up, hoisting Tracy's hips off the mattress.

She eased Tracy's tight jeans down past her hips, pulling the black boxer briefs along.  Lowering Tracy again, Kat crawled backwards off the bed, pulling Tracy's pants off little by little.  Once they were off, Kat pulled Tracy's socks off and gave her bare feet a little tickle, making Tracy squeal and wriggle.

"I think we'll leave the t-shirt on; at least for now.  You just look so cute like this."  Kat chuckled as Tracy scrunched up her nose in reply.  "Are you sure I can't convince you to use a pacifier?  That'd make this even more adorable."

"But mommy, then I wouldn't be able to kiss you."  Tracy pouted and made big Bambi-eyes.

Kat crawled back onto the bed and lifted Tracy's legs again.  "Can you hold your ankles for me, Häschen?"  Tracy let out a little grunt as Kat pushed her legs far enough up for her to grab them.  Next she unfolded the diaper and slid it in under her butt.

"You know what?"  Kat paused.

"What?" Tracy croaked.

Kat smiled.  Then she gently pushed Tracy's legs apart, looking up at her between her thighs.  She ran a finger down Tracy's smooth mound all the way to her puckered sphincter, smiling as Tracy failed to suppress a shiver.

"I almost forgot something."  Kat reached into the bag and pulled something out.  Tracy tried to see what it was, but her legs were in the way.

Kat placed a hand coated in a white goop on Tracy's mound, slowly retracing her previous route, coating every nook and cranny.  After she was done, Kat looked at Tracy's greasy, white crotch and drew a small smiley face on her left buttock.

"There, isn't that better?  All nice and..." Kat smiled and paused, "...slick."

Tracy's breathless silence spoke volumes.  Kat wiped her hand on the diaper and rose.

"Okay, you can put your legs down now."

Tracy let go of her ankles and put her legs down, taking a deep breath.

"Now you just lie here nice and quiet while I go wash my hands.  Okay?"

Tracy nodded.  "Yeah."  She considered adding 'Mommy', but that felt like it would be taking things a little too far.  Instead, she just lay there, with her legs spread, wearing nothing but her t-shirt and a layer of white and greasy ointment.  She could hear Kat in the bathroom, humming something that was almost drowned out by the sound of the sink.  There was a nearly imperceptible draught against her bare crotch.  She knew that Kat had said not to move, but still had to fight the impulse to grab the open diaper and pull it up between her legs to cover herself.

Tracy was still arguing with herself when Kat reappeared.  She sat down next to her and gently stroked her hair.

"Good girl," Kat said.

"Thank you," Tracy answered.  She wasn't sure if she should add something. 'Ma'am' perhaps; or 'Mistress'.  After all, Kat was about to tie her up, and that felt a little dominatrixy; even if Kat's clothes said 'slumber party' and not 'bondage session'.

"So what do I call you now?  Ma'am?  Mistress Katarina?"

"What do you mean?"

"Considering what we're about to do, 'Mommy' feels wrong and kinda... icky, I guess."

"Ah.  I see what you mean."  Kat rubbed her chin.  "I don't know," she finally said.  "Having my little bunny calling me Mistress also feels wrong."

"Couldn't I just maybe call you Kati, like Cory does?"

Kat sighed.  "You know she only calls me that 'cause she knows I hate it.  Can't we just go with 'Kat' until we find something that fits better?"

"I guess."

"Now let's get you ready."  Kat reached between Tracy's legs and pulled the front of the diaper up.  Tracy shivered as the tissue-paper-like inside scratched softly against her slick skin.  Kat quickly taped the sides, securing the diaper in place.  The feeling of imposed helplessness; of not even being allowed to control a basic bodily function, sent a familiar and welcome chill down Tracy's spine.

"Do you like that?" Kat asked, even though she obviously knew the answer.  She took one of Tracy's hands and placed it on the thick white padding.  "You like how that feels?"

Tracy nodded.

"No no.  Tell me exactly what it is you like about it."

Tracy paused, not sure how to express it.  "It's... I don't know.  It's about control, I guess.  The feeling of giving up control.  I mean, when I let you diaper me, I'm sort of giving you control over part of me."

"And you like that?  Not being in control?" Kat whispered seductively.

"No.  I mean, yes.  I... arrgh!" Tracy groaned.  "I don't know.  It's like watching a scary movie or being on a roller coaster.  I'm scared, but at the same time I know I'm safe.  Does that make any sense?"

"More than I think you realise."  Kat smiled and leaned down to kiss Tracy's forehead.

"Sooo, are you ready to lose even more control?"  She slowly ran a finger down Tracy's neck.

Tracy took a breath, then nodded.  "Yeah."

Kat reached into the black bag and brought out a pair of leather cuffs.  The chromed buckles tinkling faintly as she dangled them in front of Tracy.

"I think we'll go with these first.  Less worry about circulation."

She took Tracy's free hand in hers and lifted it to her lips, giving the inside of her wrist a soft kiss.  Then she slipped the leather cuff around it and tightened the buckle.

"How's that?  Not too tight?"

Tracy shook her head.  "No, it's fine."

Kat lifted Tracy's other hand off her diaper and cuffed that as well.  Next she placed both of Tracy's hands on her diaper.

"Go on," she half-whispered.  "Give it a little squeeze."

"Uh, OK?"  Tracy pressed her fingers into the diaper, her touch feeling almost muted by the thick padding.

"Does that feel good?"

"Yeah?"  Tracy's confusion was evident in her voice.

Kat grabbed Tracy's wrists and gently, but firmly, lifted them above her head and attached the cuffs to eye bolts on either side of the bed's headboard.

"I'm glad you enjoyed that, since you're not touching it again tonight."

Tracy tugged at the cuffs, but quickly realised that there was no way she was getting loose short of ripping the bolts out of the bed frame.

Kat straddled Tracy's stomach.  "And now you can't control this."  She ran a nail up Tracy's arm.  "Or this."  She reached behind herself, put a hand on Tracy's diaper and slowly leaned back, putting pressure on her crotch.  "How does it feel?"

"I don't know..."  Tracy swallowed.  "Different, I guess."

"Different good?"  Kat stopped leaning back, easing the pressure on Tracy's bladder.

"Dunno.  But not bad."  Tracy tried her best to sound reassuring.  Despite Kat's outward confidence, she could sense a hesitance, an uncertainty.  "You're doing fine," she whispered.  "We can keep going."

"Do you wanna do the legs as well?"  Kat held up a bundle of several leather cuffs, all of them larger than the ones around Tracy's wrists.

Tracy took a deep breath and nodded.  "But no tickling.  Promise?"

"Aww.  Not even a little bit?"

Tracy gave Kat her best I'm-not-kidding-look, which was hard in her position, and Kat lifted her hands in mock surrender.

"Spoilsport," she said as she climbed off Tracy and began fastening the cuffs around her ankles, then her knees, pinning her legs together.

"I don't think we need to tie your legs to the bed as well, do we?"

Tracy knew that it wasn't really a question.  "No.  I'll be good."  She bit her lip, trying her best to look cute and helpless.  The latter didn't take much of an effort since the only thing she could really do was buck her hips.  All in all, she actually was quite helpless.

Tracy suddenly felt a stab of panicky desperation in the pit of her stomach and had to make a conscious effort to quash it.

You're safe.  Kat's here.  She's in control.  It's OK.

Tracy repeated it to herself over and over like a meditative mantra until what felt like a stomach full of burrowing bugs turned into a small swarm of butterflies.  That's when she realised Kat was looking at her.

"Are you sure you're OK?" she asked, sounding nervous and uncertain again.

Tracy nodded.  "Yeah.  It's just a little intense.  I've never been tied up like this for real before."

Kat smirked.  "A little different from VR-bondage, isn't it?"

"Yeah.  No disconnect button."

"Sure there is.  All you have to do, is say your safe word."  Kat leaned in close and stroked Tracy's cheek with the backs of her fingers.  "That's why we're not using a gag."

Tracy caught one of Kat's fingers with her lips.  "Tha'sh goo' finking."

"You ready to continue?" Kat asked.

Tracy nodded, giving Kat a chance to extract her finger.  "Mm-hmm."

Kat stood and stepped away from the bed.  She picked up her phone from the dresser and pressed a couple of buttons.  Soft, slow music filled the room.  Standing in the middle of the room, Kat pulled the t-shirt out of the waistband of her sweat pants, letting it hang loosely.  She locked eyes with Tracy as she swayed to the music.

Kat turned her back to Tracy, but kept looking at her over her shoulder.  She slowly lifted the t-shirt, little by little showing Tracy her bare back, the dark bluish-green circuit board tattoo a stark contrast to her pale skin.  Then, just before she twirled back around, she let go of the hem of the t-shirt, letting it fall back down again, earning her a frustrated groan from Tracy.

"Aww, does my little bunny want the boobies?" Kat teased.  She pulled the t-shirt away from her neck and looked down inside it.  "I don't blame you.  They are pretty cute."

Kat stepped closer to the bed with an exaggerated sway of her hips.  She raised her hands to the ceiling, then slowly brought them down, running her hands over her breasts, down her stomach to her crotch and down between her legs.  Kat put one hand on either side of Tracy's bound legs and crawled up her body, not stopping until she could give Tracy's lips a hungry kiss.

"Do you want to help me with this t-shirt?" Kat asked when their lips parted.

Tracy was still struggling to get her breath back so all she could do was nod.  

Kat pulled her t-shirt out and slipped it over Tracy's head.  Then she crawled backwards, using Tracy's head to slowly pull it off.

"Mmm.  That's better," Kat said once the t-shirt was off.  She sat down on Tracy's thighs and stretched.  "Don't you agree?"

"Can't see," Tracy said from inside the t-shirt hanging off her head.  She tried nodding vigorously to dislodge it, but it stubbornly stayed in place.

"Would you like a hand?" Kat asked, moving her hips in time with the music to give Tracy sort of a lap dance.

"Yeah, that'd be nice."  Tracy's sarcasm was somewhat lessened by her appearance.

Kat clapped slowly.

"You dumbass."

Kat grinned and began kissing her way up Tracy's stomach and chest, talking between kisses.  "That's. What. You get. For. Being. A smartass. Earlier."  She pulled her t-shirt off Tracy's head and placed the last kiss on her lips.

Tracy immediately regretted letting Kat tie her arms.  She just wanted to wrap her arms around Kat and bury her face in her neck.

"Kat?"

"Yeah?"

"Can we just stay like this for a while before you... you know?"

"Aww."  Kat curled up next to Tracy and slipped a hand underneath Tracy's t-shirt to rest on her bare stomach.  "Is that better, my little snuggle-bunny?"

"Mm-hmm."

Tracy wasn't sure how long they just lay there.  It could have been a couple of minutes, it could have been fifteen; but their reverie was interrupted by the insistent chime of her phone.

"Damn!" Tracy exclaimed.  "I'm sorry.  I thought I turned off the sound."  Kat picked up the phone from the night stand and looked at it.

"It's Wilford.  Want to let it go to voicemail?"  Kat showed Tracy the phone screen.

"No.  I gave Dr... I mean my client her card.  Maybe she wants me to ID some of the people."

"We'd better have your secretary answer it then?"  Kat grinned.

"What do you mean 'my secretary'?" Tracy asked, just as Kat pressed the button on the phone.

"Bullit Investigations?  How may I help you?" Kat said cheerfully.

"Oh, she's a little tied up with something, but I'll see if she's available."  Kat looked down at Tracy who rolled her eyes at her before nodding.  

"One moment please."  Instead of freeing Tracy's hand, Kat just held the phone to her ear and leaned close enough to listen in.

"Yes, Ms Wilford?"

"Do you have anything serious on your plate at the moment?"  Ms Wilford's no-nonsense attitude clearly hadn't found Kat's little charade amusing.

"No, nothing that can't wait.  Why?"

"I have something that might be right up your alley.  You and your... associate, that is."

"Okay?" Tracy said cautiously.  This was the first time she had ever mentioned Kat; despite her crucial role in the first job she did for her a couple of months earlier.

"Are you free tomorrow around lunchtime?"

"Yes?"

Business lunch two days in a row?  This is my lucky week.

"Good.  My office 11:30 tomorrow.  Preferably both of you."  Ms Wilford hung up.

The abrupt click shattered Tracy's thoughts about good restaurant food.  She looked at Kat.  "I guess we have a business meeting tomorrow."

Kat put the phone back on the night stand.  "I guess we do."  She curled up next to Tracy again.  "Now, where were we?"  She pretended to think for a moment, then slid a hand down her sweat pants.  "And no pretending you're asleep, okay?"

[YourFNF]

[Gummybear]

The offices of Turson, Oaks & Rossi made Tracy uncomfortable. Even though she had been there more than half a dozen times the last three months she still felt out of place. The offices were huge, occupying the entire tenth floor of a building in the heart of the business district downtown. It was all muted colours, steel and glass. Everyone wore clothes that looked like they cost more than she made in a month. They would take one look at Tracy and make her feel like she was something unpleasant that had been scraped from their shoes. Tracy knew that most of this was intentional, part of some elaborate power move, just make making her and Kat wait. But knowing didn't make it less effective.

 

"Stop fidgeting Häschen," Kat said, looking up from the magazine she had been flipping through.

 

"I can't help it," Tracy whispered. "The place kind of gives me the creeps. I keep halfway expecting some mafia boss I've only seen pictures of come out of one of these offices."

 

"That's because you let them get to you."

 

"Huh?"

 

"Look, I'm not blaming you. I have to remember that most corporate lawyers are either professional arseholes, some degree of psychopath, or a combination of the two. That makes them very good at this sort of thing." Kat gave Tracy a quick smile and put down the magazine. "I could have done my whole 'living statue' thing, but it doesn't really work when they know who we are."

 

Tracy sighed. "Yeah, them knowing we're not really working for some obscure government agency would kind of lessen the effect."

 

They sat silently for a while. Then Kat leaned in close and whispered: "By the way, how's your butt?"

 

"What?!?"

 

"I mean, you don't have any rashes or anything. You know, from last night."

 

"Kaaaat." Tracy looked around to see if anybody had heard Kat.

 

Kat's face softened. "I was just thinking that could be why you're so fidgety. I mean, you had that wet diaper on for quite a while."

 

Tracy felt her cheeks burn as she blushed. "No," she finally whispered, "I'm... I'm good."

 

"Good. I just wanted to make sure. After all, it was something new for you."

 

"Well, my shoulders were kinda sore afterwards, but they're okay now."

 

Kat nodded. "Maybe we should include a backrub in your aftercare. What do you think? Six hours of snuggling and then a massage?"

 

Tracy couldn't help but smile at Kat's caring side showing up even when she was planning bondage sessions. It was an oddly charming contrast.

 

"It was weird when I couldn't hold you when I woke up before you."

 

"You could have said something. But you decided to use your mouth differently, didn't you?" Kat smiled and slipped a hand inside her jacket to discreetly cup her breast.

 

Their conversation was cut short when Ms Wilford's secretary cleared his throat.

 

"Ms Wilford will see you now," he said curtly.

 

"Thanks New Marc," Tracy said through a slight groan as she got up, feeling twinges in her back and shoulders.

 

"Stephen," the secretary corrected her.

 

"Sure sure, New Marc."

 

If the front office was designed to make you feel insignificant, Ms Wilson's office dialled that up to eleven. As Tracy and Kat entered, she looked up from her computer and motioned for them to have a seat.

 

"I'll get right to the point," Ms Wilford said, moving her keyboard out of the way and leaning forward on her desk. "How comfortable are you with working undercover. And I'm not just talking about for an hour or two like you did on the Novak case. We're talking several days, non-stop."

 

"I guess it'd depend on the case. And the cover story. Why?"

 

"Stephen didn't send you the case summary?"

 

Tracy shook her head. "Not unless he did it the last ten minutes or so."

 

Ms Wilford gave a groan of frustration, giving Tracy the impression that maybe New Marc, much like Old Marc, hadn't exactly been hired for his secretarial skills. She also suspected that there might be a New New Marc in the not-too-distant future.

 

"Maybe you could just give us the highlights," Kat suggested.

 

"Are you familiar with Dina Rumbold?"

 

"Name doesn't ring a bell, sorry." Tracy shrugged.

 

"Dina Rumbold... That's Daring Dina, isn't it?" Kat asked. When she saw the way Tracy looked at her, she continued. "She does these really elaborate stunts in ridiculously tricked-out cars. Kind of like Jessie and Uncle Dieter, but without the nudity."

 

Tracy grinned. "I didn't know you watched stuff like that; hot girls in fast cars."

 

Kat sighed. "I don't. But Uncle Dieter is a fan." She turned to Ms Wilford. "Anyway, there was some kind of scandal, wasn't there?"

 

"Yeah, she ran over a kitten during one of her livestreamed stunts and just went 'Oh wow! Did you guys see that?' or something like that. Obviously the fans left her in droves when she refused to apologise, just saying that 'shit happens in real life'."

 

Tracy looked from Ms Wilford to Kat and back again. "Please tell me you're not representing the cat's estate or something."

 

"No. Miss Rumbold's fiance, a Mr Matteo Rizzi."

 

Tracy nodded and pulled out her notebook, just lifting an eyebrow at Ms Wilford who nodded that she was fine with her taking notes.

 

"So, after the kitten-incident, Ms Rumbold realised that she would have to do some kind of sensitivity training to regain her fans. She had herself admitted to the VitaTech Behaviour Clinic for a two-week stay. I don't suppose you're familiar with them?"

 

Both Tracy and Kat shook their heads.

 

"No surprise. They're not exactly your everyday mental clinic. They claim to be able to modify people's learned behaviour, reverse pretty much any habit. They have a pretty good success rate, so you can imagine they're quite popular with rich people in need of rehab."

 

"Anyway," Ms Wilford continued. "Miss Rumbold admitted herself and disappeared after a week."

 

"Okay, this sounds more like a hacking job than an undercover job."

 

"You're not wrong," Ms Wilford admitted. "But VitaTech has a rather annoying way of keeping their records private."

 

She opened one of her desk drawers and pulled out a small tablet. "You remember Mr Cortes-Vila?"

 

"Dominic? 'Doctor Doom'?" Tracy suppressed a chuckle.

 

Ms Wilford nodded. "He did some digging and got us all of VitaTech's medical records for the last two months."

 

"Aaand?" Tracy asked, waiting for the other shoe to drop.

 

Ms Wilford handed Tracy the tablet. It showed what looked like fairly standard medical records. "Check out the names."

 

Tracy looked closer and saw that all the boxes for names; patient names, doctors', nurses', even locations; they were all just four-digit numbers.

 

"So they're using dual records? One for patient journals and a different one for names?"

 

Ms Wilford nodded. "And we can't find the the second. They're they could be stored off-site, but I doubt it. It's more likely they're on an air-gapped computer at the clinic."

 

"And you need someone to find that computer and get those records." Tracy handed back the tablet.

 

"Or Ms Rumbold, if she's still at the clinic."

 

Tracy put away her notebook. "So... Neither of us can pass for nurses."

 

"Yeah. Fake nursing licences is too much of a legal liability, plus we don't know if they have any open positions."

 

Tracy didn't point out that stealing medical records wasn't exactly legal either. "So, patients then?

 

"One of you. We need someone who can visit on a daily basis without raising suspicion, and I'm guessing a worried girlfriend fits that description." Ms Wilford looked from Tracy to Kat and back again.

 

"Okay, patient and girlfriend then. I can't imagine behaviour modification and habit-breaking for the rich and famous is cheap. What kind of budget are we working with?"

 

Ms Wilford chuckled. "Enough for one of their five-day packages, so if you ever wanted to quit smoking..."

 

"Five days? No way they can do something like that in five days," Kat protested.

 

"Apparently the cheaper package deals have 'homework' as part of the treatment. It's four days and a follow-up visit two weeks later. That gives us one more reason for the worried girlfriend visiting every day."

 

Kat nodded, seemingly happy with the clarification.

 

"Anyway, I'll leave your cover identities to you. Just let Stephen know which names to use when setting up the appointment for your admittance interview with the clinic."

 

Tracy put away her notebook. "About my fee..." she began.

 

"Yeah, I realise this is a fairly risky job, so I suppose double the usual rate is appropriate?"

 

Tracy did some quick calculations. "The four days count as a full twenty-four hours each?"

 

Ms Wilford looked about as comfortable as someone about to have a root canal. "OK, but we're not paying more than regular rates for the time you're not inside the clinic. Do we have a deal?"

 

Tracy nodded. "Yes. You'll email me the terms in a standard contract?"

 

Ms Wilford nodded and held out a thumb drive to her. "Here's all the information we have so far." Tracy rose and took the thumb drive.

 

Kat tipped an imaginary hat at Ms Wilford and held the door open for Tracy. "Have a good day."

 

Once they were in the elevator, Tracy turned to Kat. "Do you think we should have told her that neither of us smoke?"

 

"I can think of another habit that my little rabbit might want to break; at least temporarily," Kat said, grinning. Tracy felt a blush creep up her face.

 

 

~~~

 

 

"So, which of your fake identities is going to the loony bin?" Kat was sitting on the couch playing an obnoxiously loud and cartoony platform game.

 

Tracy looked up from the papers on her desk. "Why do you automatically assume that I'm going to be the patient. Maybe I can be the worried girlfriend."

 

Kat paused the game and walked across the room to sit on the edge of the desk. She reached out to gently stroke Tracy's cheek. "Three reasons. One: Your fake IDs are better than mine. Two: I don't know how to pick a lock. Three, and this is the most important one." Kat leaned closed to whisper in Tracy's ear. "Mommy makes the rules." Kat gave Tracy's earlobe a gentle bite and a lick. Then she got up and walked back to the couch, only to stop halfway there to look back over her shoulder. "Also, I have this naughty nurse's uniform I can wear while taking care of you when you come back, and it's way too small for you to wear."

 

Tracy swallowed. "Okay. Good points." She tried to focus on her monitor, but her eyes followed Kat back to the couch. "Maybe we should start with the 'what' and not the 'who'. What kind of habit should I pretend to want to break?"

 

"I wasn't kidding about what I said in the elevator."

 

"You mean...?"

 

Kat nodded. "Bladder control is a habit, isn't it?"

 

"Can't I have a drug problem instead? Or smoking?"

 

"Do you think you can fake an addiction?" Kat raised an eyebrow. "On blood tests?"

 

"Okay, so maybe not," Tracy conceded. But still...?"

 

"You still have that fake exchange student from Turkmenistan? The one you used on that diaper VR site last year?"

 

"Ivana Kuznetsova? Yeah."

 

"Who is to say that she didn't like her visits to that site? Maybe she got a very caring and bossy girlfriend since then, and they've been roleplaying that kind of thing, but want to take it one step further."

 

"And maybe her girlfriend is a short blonde with a bundle of untraceable cash?"

 

"Exactly. You always say that a good lie starts with the kernel of truth. Ivana has a history with an actual website related to the habit she wants to break. That even gives them a little bit of a paper trail in case they decide to check."

 

Tracy scratched her chin. "I guess updating an existing ID is easier than creating a new one from scratch, but I still have to make a new one for you. Your government agent is just a card with a name and a picture, held up by nothing more than your ability to bullshit people. And we need something that can withstand a little scrutiny."

 

"Definitely a good idea." Kat picked up the game controller and resumed her game. "But if you give me a pun-name, I'm sprinkling itching powder in your diapers when you least expect it. Are we clear?" She briefly looked up at Tracy before returning her attention to the screen.

 

Tracy sighed, discarding her ideas of Alicia Collard.  "Crystal."

[YourFNF]

Oh this sounds like it's going to be both potentially fun and dangerous.... Why do I get the feeling the clinic is doing some grey/black site research shit?

[Gummybear]

On 10/29/2024 at 4:41 PM, YourFNF said:

Why do I get the feeling the clinic is doing some grey/black site research shit?

Because "behaviour modification" doesn't sound ominous at all?  I mean, what's a little brainwashing between friends?

[Gummybear]

I was going to wait until I had finished part 7 (and posted it on The Scriptorium) before posting part 6 here, but part 7 is running long so as a little pre-Christmas present, I'm going to break my own rule just this once.  Enjoy

 

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VitaTech occupied the top three floors of a highrise not too far from Ms Wilford's office.

 

As Tracy and Kat got out of the taxi they had taken to avoid being seen in their own cars, Tracy took a deep breath to prepare herself.

 

"Now remember, I'm Ivana Kuznetsova, and you're Ka-"

 

"Katia Weber. Yes, we went through this a dozen times already."

 

"I'm just nervous since I usually do this kind of thing alone."

 

"Relax Häschen. This isn't my first time roleplaying."

 

"Yeah, but you're not allowed to spank people this time."

 

"Oh shush now, and let mommy take care of things." Kat stroked Tracy's cheek.

 

"OK," Tracy said meekly, getting into her role as Ivana as they walked through the doors.

 

The clinic was every bit as high-end as Tracy expected. The moment she and Kat stepped out of the elevator, they were met with an immaculate reception. Spotless eggshell-white walls, art so generic it would be forgotten the moment you left the room, and a front desk manned by a receptionist in what looked almost like a nurse's uniform. There were a couple of stylish sofas along one wall and a light green door next to the front desk.

 

Kat walked up to the front desk with Tracy in tow. "Katia Weber," she told to the receptionist. "We have an appointment with Doctor Scott.

 

The receptionist tapped a few keys on her keyboard and studies her monitor for a moment. "Ah yes. You're a little early, but the doctor should be along in a minute." She opened a drawer and handed Kat two plastic bags with bright green cloth inside. "Your visitors' masks," she said.

 

"Excuse me?" Kat asked.

 

"All patients and visitors wear masks in in the clinic common areas. It ensures everybody's privacy and prevents potential extortion. The VitaTech Clinic is not liable for any legal or personal ramifications if you remove your masks in any of the common areas." Tracy could tell that this was not the first time the receptionist had given that speech. She tore through the seal and pulled out the surgical mask, putting it over her nose and mouth.

 

"If they take privacy this seriously, those records could be really hard to access," Kat whispered as she slipped the elastic behind her ears. Tracy nodded in agreement.

 

They were just about to take a seat when the green door opened and a rotund man in a wheelchair rolled through it. He extended his hand towards Tracy and Kat.

 

"Doctor Scott," he said with a smile. "And you are...?"

 

Kat turned on her in-charge attitude, stepped forward and shook his hand. "Katia Weber"

 

Dr Scott nodded and shifted his attention to Tracy who was still standing a step behind Kat. "And that must make you Ivana, correct?"

 

"Yeah. Hi." Tracy shook his hand. Her awkward shyness not entirely an act.

 

"Excellent, excellent. If you'd follow me, we'll get things started." He turned his wheelchair around and headed back towards the door. Kat took Tracy's hand and pulled her along. "Oh, and do please keep your masks on."

 

Doctor Scott's office was only a couple of doors down the hallway, and soon they were seated in front of a reddish-brown wooden desk that looked out of place among all the other modern and stylish furniture they had seen so far. The lack of windows in the office made it feel a little claustrophobic.

 

"So..." Dr Scott began, leaning forward. "I have your file here, but I would like to hear you explain what brought you to us."

 

Kat, playing her part as the domineering girlfriend to a tee, took Tracy's hand and started talking.

 

"It all started when Ivana here stumbled into a VR she wasn't expecting. It was sort of a nursery VR with some... questionable coding. When she disconnected, she found she needed...'protection'. Especially at night."

 

"Kaaat," Tracy whispered, her blush one hundred percent real.

 

Kat raised Tracy's hand to her lips and gave it a quick kiss. "Don't worry Häschen. I'm sure this isn't the first time the doctor has heard about things like that."

 

"Anyway," Kat continued. "It took us a while to regain control; probably because my little bunny seemed to like it. Also, to be honest, I thought it was cute."

 

"I see. So if I understand correctly, your goal here is to become incontinent. Is that correct Miss Kuznetsova?" Doctor Scott looked at Tracy.

 

"Yeah," she said quietly. "Kinda."

 

"We discussed this and agreed that we just wanted her to lose control of her bladder," Kat explained. "Less messy, you know."

 

"Yes, I suppose so." Dr Scott leaned back in his chair.

 

"So, do you think you can manage something like that here?"

 

Dr Scott looked at the them for what felt like the longest five seconds in Tracy's life.

 

"It's doable," he finally said. "But bear in mind that unlike most other habits, this is one that you've had most of your life. And the longer you've had a habit, the harder it is to break. This means that in order for this to have a chance at succeeding it's critical that you follow through with the exercises we give you once you leave the clinic."

 

"You sound like you're speaking from experience Doctor. You've done something like this before?"

 

Dr Scott bobbed his head slightly from side to side. "I obviously can't go into details, but let's just say that this wouldn't be the first time, no."

 

"So exactly what does this procedure entail? I mean, in addition to the the exercises you mentioned."

 

"Well, the actual procedure itself is really quite simple Miss Weber."

 

"Katia, please. Miss Weber is my mother and believe me, I'm not her," Kat interrupted.

 

Dr Scott smiled. "Like I said, it's fairly straightforward. the first part is basically keyhole surgery. We use a probe, like a catheter, to go up the urethra to the bladder. Then we inject a chemical similar to botox. The end result is a temporary numbing and weakening of the muscles controlling the bladder. This weakening usually lasts between two and three weeks."

 

"Why only temporary?" Kat asked. "Wouldn't it be easier to just to paralyse those muscles right away?"

 

"It would," the doctor admitted. "But that would also mean risking our medical licence and opening us up for lawsuits from dissatisfied customers. Besides, our methods have a very high rate of success as they are. Provided that Miss Kuznetsova actually wants to go through with it, that is."

 

"What do you mean?" Kat leaned forward, clearly interested.

 

"Well, by using a combination of subliminal messaging, a strictly controlled drug regime and in some cases, like this one, minor surgery, we are able to de-program pretty much any habit. The problem is, of course, that if the client resumes whatever habit they quit when they leave here, whatever we did will be pretty much wasted." Dr Scott sat back and ran a hand through his hair. "So I have to ask: Are you absolutely sure you want this?"

 

Tracy nodded and said quietly "Yes, I'm sure."

 

"Good. Good." Doctor Scott checked his computer. "So I guess we'll see you on Thursday then." He handed Kat a plastic bag with dark blue fabric. She opened it and pulled out the contents, examining them briefly.

 

"Just one thing," Kat said, "what's the deal with the ski mask?" She held up the dark blue spandex bundle like a sock puppet, poking her fingers out through the eye holes.

 

Dr Scott chuckled. "I know it seems silly, but when you're altering behaviour, especially ones related to social norms, anonymity helps; even if it is just an illusion of anonymity. The mask will allow Ms Kuznetsova to feel that people won't know who she is while she is here. And that will help her go along with the program."

 

"But they will know; well, the staff at least. Ivana's name will be on her chart."

 

"Yes, and no. As long as Ms Kuznetsova is admitted here, her charts will only refer to her by her patient number."

 

"So how do you know who's who?" Kat sounded genuinely worried, and Tracy was pretty sure it wasn't all an act. She took Kat's hand and gave it a gentle squeeze.

 

"I'm sure they have a system momm-, I mean Kat. Like GPS tags or something."

 

Dr Scott smiled. "Actually, since we use signal jammers to ensure electronic privacy, we use something a little more low-tech." He held up a thick permanent marker. "We write your number on your hand and on your gown. And we keep the names and numbers in a ledger in my safe here." He leaned back. The ledger never leaves this room, and only I know the combination to the safe. One hundred percent hacker-proof."

 

Kat nodded. "I see. You certainly seem to take patient privacy seriously."

 

"Like I said: Anonymity helps ensure the success of our procedures, so it's both in ours and our clients' best interest to maintain it as best we can"

 

"Well this all sounds very reassuring." Kat smiled, putting on a more relaxed expression. "Just one last thing."

 

"Yes?"

 

"Would it be all right for me to be there when Ivana has her surgery on Thursday. I want my little bunny to know that her mommy is there for her."

 

Tracy felt her cheeks burn with embarrassment. "Kaaat," she whined.

 

Kat cupped her cheek and stroked them with her thumb. "I just want to make sure you're okay."

 

Tracy pouted and looked down.

 

"Actually," Dr. Scott said quietly, "I think that would be a very good idea. After all, you're the one who's going to be taking care of Ivana after she is done here. You obviously have a relationship like that already, so taking this step together might just improve the chances for lasting success even further."

 

"I guess we'll see you on Thursday then," Kat said. She rose and extended her hand to Dr. Scott who shook it.

 

 

~~~

 

 

"No wonder Ms. Wilford's hacker couldn't find the names. Handwritten ledgers." Kat snorted contemptuously. "That's positively medieval."

 

"Yeah. But effective." Tracy looked up from her tablet. "If there's no computer to break into..." She sighed.

 

"So do you think you can get into that safe?"

 

"If it has an electronic lock, maybe. But if they've gone with an old-school mechanical lock, I'll be screwed. Unless I can figure out the combination, that is."

 

Kat put the pot of soup on the table before looking over Tracy's shoulder. "And that's why you're researching Dr. Scott?"

 

"Yeah. Birthdays, anniversaries, kids' birthdays; I'm still surprised how many people use'em for combinations. You'd think people would know better."

 

"If people weren't stupid, your job would be a lot harder."

 

"But this guy runs a clinic where they're being paranoid about privacy. I'm worried he's one of the smart ones, and that all of this is a waste of time."

 

"And it's not like they have a default manufacturer's code or anything." Kat took the tablet from Tracy's hands. "But now it's dinner-time."

 

Tracy chuckled. "You're taking the whole mommy role a little far, aren't you?"

 

Kat took Tracy's hand and led her to the kitchen table. "Can you blame me for wanting to get into character? You're going to be my little baby for at least a couple of weeks, or however long it takes for the treatment to wear off."

 

"What do you mean?" Tracy filled a bowl with soup, inhaling the rich scent of tomato.

 

"Didn't you read the papers about the VitaTech 'homework'?" Kat said as she sat down across the table from Tracy.

 

"I was kinda busy with my research."

 

"I'm supposed to change your diaper when you wet yourself-"

 

"We already do that," Tracy interrupted.

 

"Yes, but when we change you, I'm supposed to be all caring and maternal; to emphasise your lack of control and how everything's going to be all right."

 

"So basically a 'mommy will take care of everything' kind of thing?"

 

"That's what they say will give the best chances for success."

 

Tracy nodded. "That makes sense, if we wanted it to succeed. But we don't, do we? This is just an excuse to get to that safe. Right?" Tracy looked at Kat.

 

Kat looked down into her soup bowl.

 

"Right?" Tracy repeated pointedly.

 

"Yeah," Kat finally said. "It'd be cute though. And we're going to have to keep it up while you're there. You think Ivana can manage being my helpless little bunny for four days?"

 

"Huh? What do you mean?"

 

"You'll be at the clinic from Thursday to Sunday. And your loving mommy is going to be checking up on you every day."

 

"Fair enough. But we're not doing the homework. I don't actually want to be incontinent."

 

"I know." Kat paused for a moment, lost in thought. "It's just too bad Cory's not here for this. I'm pretty sure she'd go overboard as Auntie Cory."

 

Tracy chuckled. "Yeah, she really seem to enjoy helping you change me."

 

"Oh, I think she wasn't the only one who liked it, was she?" Kat nudged Tracy's leg under the table. Now it was Tracy's turn to study her soup intently.

 

"But seriously, how are do you plan on handling that safe? I mean, it's not like you're an expert safe-cracker."

 

Tracy shrugged. "I figure I'm going to have to find it first, so I can see what kind of lock it has. If it's one that I think I can hack, then I'll try that. If not, then we're just going to have to give Ms. Wilford all the information we can get on the safe, and hope she has a good burglar on retainer, 'cause I don't know any."

 

"Let's just hope it doesn't come to that."

 

Tracy sucked her teeth. "Yeah. It doesn't exactly make me seem like a competent professional if I have to ask my employer to hire someone else to do the job she hired me to do."

 

"But she wouldn't blame you for them going analog, would she?"

 

"I guess we'll have to burn that bridge when we get to it."

 

[YourFNF]

Yeah this is only adding to my grey/black site theory.

[Gummybear]

Well, it turns out that part 7 is so long it's turning into parts 7 and 8 (and maybe even 9), so I figured I sort of owed you an update.  Enjoy.
(And as always, feel free to check out The Scriptorium to get the lastest chapters first.)

 

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The first thing Tracy noticed when she woke up was the smell. It was a flowery scent with a strong hint of hospital antiseptics. Her body felt heavy, like her skeleton was made of lead. Moving anything felt like fighting the safety paralysis that set in when she used her drones. There was a sound to her left and she opened her eyes slowly, her eyelids feeling crusty. She took in the white walls, non-descript art, and Kat sitting in a chair next to the bed reading a magazine.

 

"Hey Kat," Tracy said, her throat feeling dry and scratchy.

 

Kat looked up from her magazine and smiled. "You're awake," she said, stating the obvious. "How are you feeling?"

 

"Thirsty," Tracy croaked.

 

Kat held a straw to Tracy's lips and she sucked, feeling the water soothe her throat as she swallowed.

 

Tracy sighed. "I think this ranks up in the top five best naps I've ever had, but remind me again why they couldn't just use a local anaesthetic?"

 

"The neurotoxin apparently hurts like hell and makes you really twitchy when they inject it. At least that's what they told me. So I guess it's a good thing we're not the first ones doing this." Kat sat down on the edge of the bed and stroked Tracy's hair.

 

"Yeah, I guess."

 

Kat kissed Tracy's forehead. "And how is my little sleeping beauty's undies? Still dry?" Kat patted Tracy's crotch through the covers.

 

"Think so." Tracy almost protested but caught herself. After all, this was what Ivana wanted; why she was here.

 

"Maybe we should have a little look."

 

Before Tracy had a chance to say anything, Kat had pulled the covers away, exposing one of the biggest diapers Tracy had ever seen. It was thicker than her thickest overnight diapers, and looked more like a scaled-up version of an infant's diaper.

 

"Oh my." Kat grinned. "Looks like they really wanted to make sure you didn't leak."

 

Tracy tried to pull her gown down to cover the diaper, but it was just too big. Kat slowly ran a finger up Tracy's inner thigh, clearly planning to slip it inside the diaper to check. But before the finger reached its goal, Tracy gasped as she felt a trickle escape her, only to be wicked away by the soft padding.

 

"I just peed," she whispered. "And I didn't even feel that I had to. It just came out all on its own."

 

Kat smiled and rested her hand on the smooth white plastic. "And did you like it?"

 

"I... I don't know. I thought it would feel different. More like feeling the need to go and just being unable to stop it. But I didn't feel any warning."

 

"And the diaper? How does it feel?"

 

Tracy chuckled. It still feels dry."

 

Kat slipped a hand down between Tracy's legs and gave the diaper a little lift and wiggle. "Well, it most definitely isn't dry. You must have been peeing in your sleep as well. I'll go find a fresh diaper."

 

As Kat rose, Tracy remembered the clinic rules. "Don't forget your mask," she said.

 

Kat put on her green surgical mask before handing Tracy the blue spandex ski mask. "The same goes for you, my little diapered bank robber." She helped Tracy put on the hood.

 

"So I guess I'm not Ivana any more," Tracy said with a wry smile. She looked at the back of her hand. "Just patient number 158."

 

"What does that make me?" Kat wondered out loud. "Mommy number 158? 158-b?"

 

"Nah, you'll always be number one to me."

 

The 'aww' that Kat let out just made Tracy feel all warm and fuzzy inside. Kat leaned in close and rubbed her nose against Tracy's.

 

"Does mommy's little bunny want some help with that mask?" she whispered.

 

Tracy rolled her eyes at her. "I'm incontinent, not incompetent."

 

"But you are incorrigible."

 

"Yeah, and that."

 

"You sure I can't find you a cute and fuzzy onesie and add 'infantilised' to the list?"

 

"Kaaaat." Tracy tried to give Kat 'the look'.

 

"Just something to think about while mommy is off to find you a dry diaper." Kat rose and headed out the door, hooking the green surgical mask behind her ears.

 

Tracy looked at the blue cloth in her hands. She understood the reason behind it, but that didn't make it feel any less silly. She smoothed her hair back and pulled the thin spandex over her head, adjusting it slightly. The thin fabric and large opening that exposed both her nose and mouth made it more comfortable than she had expected. Tracy ran her hand over her head, smoothing out the wrinkles. She lay back and looked up at the ceiling, listening. There was the barely audible hum of the air conditioning, but other than that: nothing. The sun made stripes on her bed through the blinds, but Tracy couldn't imagine that windows were anything other than one-way privacy windows. And based on the lack of traffic noise, they were probably soundproofed as well. Even if the clinic hadn't used signal jammers, this was about as much privacy as Tracy had had in years. She grudgingly had to admit to herself that it was impressive that Dominic had managed to get any information at all.

 

The door opened, derailing Tracy's train of thought. Kat walked in behind a nurse pushing a small wheeled table. They seemed to be having a bit of an argument.

 

"But I know how to do it. I've been doing it for ages. And besides-" Kat said.

 

"It's not up to me." The nurse gave an exasperated sigh. "Our malpractice insurance policy mandates that I show you how it's done."

 

"What's this all about?" Tracy asked as Kat closed the door.

 

"They won't let me change your diaper, sweetie," Kat said as she walked around the bed. She shot the nurse a nasty look which was expertly ignored.

 

Tracy suddenly realised that a complete stranger was about to not only see her diaper, but change it as well. She pulled the covers up like a shield.

 

"Now now Häschen," Kat said soothingly. She took Tracy's hand in hers and held it. "We both knew that this would happen. After all, it's not like I can be here 24 hours a day."

 

"Yeah, but..." Tracy leaned closer and whispered. "She'll see my diaper."

 

Kat chuckled. "Yes, it'd be kind of hard to change it without seeing it."

 

"It's not funny." Tracy pouted.

 

"Sweetie, I'm sure this isn't even the first diaper she has changed today. Isn't that so."

 

The nurse shrugged. "Today, yes it is. This week, no."

 

"See? She's a professional. Now why don't you just lie back and close your eyes, and mommy will be here with you the whole time." Kat sat down on the edge of the bed and pulled Tracy closer, hugging her and resting her chin on top of Tracy's head.

 

As the nurse moved the covers aside, Tracy clutched it to her chest, hiding her face behind it. The nurse slid a changing pad under Tracy's butt. Kat's whispered reassurances did nothing to alleviate Tracy's embarrassment. She had been so focused on the breaking and entering part of the job that she had completely forgotten that other people would see her in diapers; and change them.

 

The diaper was pulled away, leaving Tracy's damp crotch exposed as the nurse rolled it up and put it in a plastic bin under her little trolley. Next she used a couple of disposable wipes to clean her.

 

"So this..." the nurse gestured toward Tracy's crotch, "this is a thing for you two?"

 

"Yeah," Kat replied. "Mostly during weekends though. Or if she's had a stressful day."

 

"You should get used to it being more of a perma- Oh, here we go," the nurse interrupted herself as Tracy felt a warm trickle escape her to run down between her butt cheeks to the changing pad.

 

"Kat?" Tracy said, absolutely horrified. "I didn't even feel it. I'm sorry." She pulled the covers up to hide behind them.

 

"Shh. It's okay Häschen." Kat nuzzled the top of Tracy's head and rocked her gently as the nurse cleaned her up again.

 

"Well, like I said: This is going to be a more permanent situation for you now." The nurse slid a dry diaper under Tracy's butt after Kat patted the side of her hip to make her lift it.

 

"Do you usually use ointment or just powder?" the nurse asked matter-of-factly.

 

"Oh, just powder," Kat said. "We haven't needed more."

 

The nurse opened a small jar and scooped out a generous dollop of the greasy white ointment. "You're probably going to have to reconsider that." She smeared the ointment all over Tracy's crotch. Tracy yelped when the slick fingers slipped between her butt cheeks.

 

The nurse peeled off her gloves and pulled the diaper up between Tracy's legs, taping everything is place. "See? That wasn't so bad, now was it? I'll leave you two alone for now. Someone will be by to change you before bedtime." The nurse folded up the changing pad and left a small stack of diapers on the bed, giving them a little pat. "I'll just leave these here in case you need them before that.

 

Tracy still had her face hidden behind the covers as the nurse left the room.

 

"See? That wasn't so bad," Kat said as she slowly, but firmly, pulled the covers down.

 

"Not so bad?!? I just had a complete stranger change me. I peed in front of her."

 

"Yes. And she has no idea what you look like." Kat removed the mask, rubbing a finger behind her left ear. "Well, she doesn't know what you look like with your clothes on."

 

That was when Tracy remembered her mask. "I'm not taking this off until we leave," she said firmly.

 

"Whatever you say, Häschen." Kat checked her watch. "I still have a couple of hours before they kick me out for the night. What do you want to do? Want to go meet the other inmates?" Kat grinned and wiggled her eyebrows.

 

"I just wanna stay here with you," Tracy said and reached for Kat, pulling her down onto the bed. "At least until it's time for me to be all sneaky. Did you bring my toys?"

 

Kat nodded towards the overnight bag next to the chair she had been sitting in. "False bottom. And I even found you a white lab coat." Kat reached down and gave Tracy's diaper a squeeze. "With extra room in the back."

 

 

~~~

 

 

Tracy sat in bed, trying to read, but she kept looking out the window, her eyes following the lights of a small helicopter or a large drone as it flew across the night sky. It was not yet midnight and her little heist was still a couple of hours away. In her experience, people working a night shift was usually at their least attentive between two and four in the morning; after the last stragglers would have gone to bed and before the earliest risers would be waking up. One of the nurses had changed her diaper a little earlier, so she was still dry. It hadn't felt quite as awkward as the first changing, but the new diaper was even thicker than the ones she had been wearing earlier. They already gave her a noticeably bowlegged gait, and she suspected that they would swell enough to force her to waddle. In theory that wouldn't be a problem since she was only supposed to be in bed until the morning change, but Tracy had other plans. Tracy checked her phone again. The alarm was set for 2:45, so she could allow herself a little nap, but she wanted to get everything ready first.

 

"OK Kat, let's see which toys you packed," Tracy whispered as she swung her legs over the edge of the bed and went to get the overnight bag Kat had left. She opened the bag and took out the contents, putting the neatly folded clothes in the small dresser next to the bed. The sweatpants and oversized hoodie would be far more comfortable than the thin hospital gown if she was going to leave her room. Next were a couple of plain t-shirts and a sports bra, followed by her toiletries. At the bottom of the bag was a heavy cloth-wrapped bundle that Tracy didn't recognise. She put it on the bed next to the empty bag and carefully unwrapped it.

 

Tracy sighed and rolled her eyes as she unveiled a big, bright pink vibrator and matching buttplug. They had been a gag gift from Kat on her birthday.

 

"Very funny Kat," Tracy said to the empty room. She wrapped the sex toys back up again and put them aside. Next she felt around inside the bag, following the seam along the bottom until she found a gap just big enough for her finger. Pulling the false bottom up revealed a whole different kind of toys: A lockpick gun of questionable legality, a tablet loaded with all of Tracy's electronic security software, a small multitool, and enough cables, plugs and alligator clips to connect pretty much anything with anything else.

 

Tracy wrapped everything in the lab coat and hid it under the pillow. Then she lay back down on the bed and stared at the ceiling, trying to will herself to fall asleep.

 

OK, I sneak down the hall to Doctor Scott's office, pick the lock on the door, crack his safe, photograph his ledger, and sneak back here. Then Kat can take the files out when she comes to visit tomorrow. Piece of cake.

 

The featureless white ceiling was a mishmash of reflected colours from outside the window. Tracy closed her eyes and tried to visualise a floorplan of the clinic based on her walk from the entrance to the pre-op room.

 

"BEEP! BEEP! BEEP!"

 

The alarm jolted Tracy awake. She fumbled with the phone to turn it off, almost dropping it. The sudden silence was deafening. Tracy sat up, feeling the squish of her wet diaper.

 

I guess I should fix that before I start sneaking around.

 

Tracy grabbed one of the spare diapers from the small dresser and quickly changed herself. Then she pulled off the hospital gown and got dressed. Checking her reflection in the window, Tracy was satisfied that the sweatpants, t-shirt and lab coat looked close enough to medical scrubs that a casual glance wouldn't raise suspicion, or at least she would once she took off her mask. None of the nurses or doctors wore the ski masks that the patients did. Reluctantly, Tracy pulled off the mask and stuffed it in her pocket, putting on the surgical mask Kat had taken from the pre-op room.

 

"Well hello there, Doctor Kuznetsova," Tracy said to her reflection. "I didn't think you were on duty tonight." She put the tools in her pockets and tucked the tablet under her arm, and moved to the door. It was locked, but that wasn't unexpected. If you were running what was essentially a rehab clinic, you wouldn't want patients roaming the hallways at night.

 

The lock wasn't particularly complex. Tracy inserted a card-shaped connector into the card reader and hooked it up to her tablet. A couple of taps on the screen and a less than ten seconds later, the lock opened with a soft click.

 

Tracy slowly opened the door and peeked out in the dimly lit hallway. It was empty. She had to remind herself not to tiptoe as she walked past the three other doors on her way to the elevator. If she was spotted, she wanted to look like she belonged, not like she was sneaking around.

 

OK Tracy, time to choose. The elevator is noisier, so you're more likely to be noticed, while the stairs are quieter, but more suspicious if you are spotted.

 

Tracy hesitated for a few seconds before turning right and heading for the stairs. The stairs were technically a fire exit, but she couldn't see any signs saying that opening the door to the stairwell would trigger an alarm. She looked through the small window in the door. The stair looked clean, but the anti-slip tape on the edges of the steps looked a little worn in places, telling Tracy that people used the stairs so an alarm was even less likely. She put a hand on the handle and pushed. The door opened smoothly and a small gust of cool air raised goosebumps on Tracy's skin as she slipped through, easing the door shut behind her.

 

For a few seconds, she just stood there, eyes closed. There was a faint musty smell of painted concrete and the faraway buzz of a ventilation system, but no scuffing feet or quiet whispers. The stairwell was empty. Tracy hugged the wall as she moved down the stairs, her eyes scanning the walls and ceiling for cameras. Nothing.

 

This is too easy.

 

Tracy paused at the middle landing, crouching with her ear to the door. When she couldn't hear anything, she risked a quick look through the window. Tracy wasn't sure, but it looked like the hallway outside the pre-op room. She was about to continue down the stairs when she heard the door below her open. Tracy froze.

 

"Shh dude," a nervous-sounding whisper said from below.

 

"Oh will you relax," another voice said. There was a loud scraping sound, then a groan and a sigh. "Dave's taking a break, and there's nobody else here."

 

Tracy barely dared to breathe. She couldn't open the door without being heard. She might be able to sneak back up the stairs to the top floor without being heard, but then there was the door there as well. Tracy's heartbeat thumped in her ears as she stood motionless next to the door and just waited.

 

There was another of those scraping sounds from below.

 

"OK," the first voice said. "But we go back in five minutes."

 

"Whatever, man. You need to chill out. Here, have one of these babies."

 

There was a dry snapping sound, followed by an obnoxiously loud snort, then a slow, shuddering sigh.

 

"See? Told you."

 

There was another snap and snort, and then a long silence. Tracy crouched down and crawled toward the railing. She pushed the corner of her tablet over the edge and opened the camera app. The screen showed two orderlies sitting on a couple of folding chairs with their eyes closed. She pulled the tablet back and turned off the screen.

 

"This's some serious shit," the first voice said.

 

"Yeah, swiped'em from the from pre-op when they forgot to lock it last week."

 

There was another long silence.

 

"We saving any for Dave?"

 

"Fuck'im. He's up with the sex addict in 308."

 

"Oh yeah, she'll fuck'im. That's for sure. Did I tell you about last week when she-"

 

"Yeah. Twice. Now shut up and let me enjoy this."

 

"Okay, okay," the first voice said quietly. "She's fuckin' hot though."

 

Tracy eased back to the door and got back on her feet. She stood with her back to the wall and tried to slow her heart rate. Two orderlies below her and one somewhere on the floor above her.

 

Not good. Not good. Not good.

 

After what felt like forever, there was a groan as one of the orderlies below her got to his feet.

 

"I guess we should get back before Dave comes back down."

 

"Will you calm down. You don't think Dave's gonna take more than five minutes? You've seen her naked; or so you keep telling me."

 

"There's a reason Dave got the nickname Speedy Gonzalez, you know. And it's not 'cause he's Mexican."

 

"OK, fine. I'm coming."

 

The door opened and closed, and then the stairwell was silent again. Tracy let out a breath she hadn't realised she'd been holding. Leaning against the wall, she tried to get her knees to stop feeling so wobbly.

 

Get a grip Tracy. You have work to do.

 

Tucking the tablet back under her arm, Tracy slowly walked down the remaining stairs. Knowing that the third orderly, Dave, could come through the door above her at any moment.

 

The hallway on the other side of the door was empty, but knowing that the orderlies weren't napping made Tracy even more tense.

 

I am a shadow; a breath of wind. I am not here.

 

Tracy read the little signs on each door as she passed them. Dr Scott's door was the fourth one; only two doors from the elevator. The lock was the same type as on her room. Tracy smiled and connected the tablet to the card reader. The software handled the almost as quickly as before, but as the lock clicked open, Tracy heard the elevator start moving. Hoping there weren't any alarms, Tracy opened the door and slipped through before closing it behind her. Standing in the pitch dark room with her ear to the door, she could hear the faint ding as the elevator doors opened.

 

OK, so at least I know all three of them are down here.

 

Tracy gave a small gasp of surprise as she felt warmth bloom between her legs.

 

"Really? Now?" she hissed at her own body which seemed to have a mind of its own, refusing to stop until it was done.

 

Tracy fumbled around next to the door for the light switch so she wouldn't have to use the light on her tablet as a flashlight.

 

Even though the diaper had barely begun to swell, Tracy waddled when she crossed the room. She couldn't see any obvious safe where the ledger could be.

 

"If I were a safe, where would I be?" Tracy whispered as she looked around the room. The book case was both just glass and chrome tubing, so there was no way to hide a safe behind it. Tracy was about to find the compass app on the tablet and use it as an improvised magnetometer to see if the safe was hidden in the walls when something struck her. The desk. Unlike the rest of the furniture that was all glass and chrome, it was wooden, solid, and most importantly, non-transparent.

 

Tracy walked around it. The top drawer on the right side only held pens and pencils, sticky notes, and paperclips. Tracy quickly thumbed through the sticky note pads to see if there were any passwords or combinations written down. There wasn't. The small cabinet door below the drawer was also unlocked, but there wasn't a safe inside. There was, however, a bottle and three tumblers. Tracy inspected the bottle and almost whistled. She wasn't a big whisky aficionado, but when she saw the label said 'single malt' and '24 years', she knew it was probably expensive.

 

Putting the whisky back, Tracy moved on to the left side of the desk. The cabinet door here didn't even have a lock, but when Tracy pulled the handle, it didn't budge. She crouched down to get a better look, feeling her diaper squish against her crotch. It was a little distracting, and Tracy couldn't help thinking of the sex toys Kat had put in her bag.

 

Focus, Tracy. Focus.

 

Tracy ran her fingers along the edge of the cabinet door. The gap was barely noticeable, leading her to wonder if the door was jammed. Tracy checked the drawer next, figuring she could pull it out and maybe get into the cabinet from above. But it was locked.

 

The lockpick gun made a sharp snapping sound with every squeeze of the trigger, making Tracy cringe. It took less than a dozen rapid snaps before she managed to turn the cylinder. Tracy held her breath and listened, hoping the soundproofing had blocked the noise. For almost a minute, all she heard was silence. Satisfied she was still undetected, Tracy pulled the drawer. The drawer, as well as the cabinet below it, both slid out. Inside was the dull greyish-green steel of a safe.

 

Bingo.

 

Tracy's elation was short-lived as she saw the two old-fashioned dials, a key hole and discreet golden lettering between them saying 'Franz Jäger 1964'.

 

"That's just perfect," Tracy whispered. "Their safe's a fucking antique." She gave the dials a couple of experimental twists, trying various iterations of Dr.Scott's birthday, but quickly gave up. This thing needed a professional. Or the combination. Tracy used the tablet to take pictures of the safe from every possible angle, including close-ups of the lock, dials, hinges and anything else that could possibly be relevant for a safecracker.

 

Tracy pushed the safe back in place. It slid in with a muted 'thunk', and Tracy rose. Her diapers felt noticeably more swollen now, and they were still warm, so she figured she must have been leaking steadily while she had been working on the safe.

 

Damn, you'd think I'd notice I was peeing.

 

Putting an ear to the door and holding her breath, Tracy listened intently. She couldn't hear anyone on the other side of the door, but that didn't mean the hallway was empty. She checked the time. The orderlies probably weren't sneaking off for extracurricular activities again just yet; which meant they could just be relaxing wherever they were supposed to be, or they could be doing rounds. There was just no way to know.

 

Tracy turned off the lights and opened the door just the tiniest of cracks. The hallway was empty. She quickly slipped out of the office and closed the door, hearing it lock behind her with a faint click and a whir. She walked quickly, but quietly back toward the stairwell. She had just rounded the corner and had the door in view when she heard a door open somewhere behind her.

 

"And I know where my pieces are so if you move any of them I'll shove'em all up your ass." Tracy recognised the voice of one of the two men from the stairwell earlier.

 

"I'm telling you Terry, there's no way you can win." It was a new voice, so Tracy assumed this was Dave.

 

"I'm gonna do the rounds, have a shit and then I'm taking you down."

 

Tracy didn't wait to hear Dave's reply. She was already in the stairwell, taking the stairs two steps at a time. She hoped the noise from the elevator had covered the sound of the door being opened and closed.

 

Shitshitshitshitshit.

 

Tracy stopped for a moment at the top of the stairs. She pressed her ear against the door frame and listened. Barely perceptible over her pounding heart, she heard, or maybe felt, the elevator still moving. She tore open the door and sprinted down the hallway to her room. There was a ding from the elevator just as she yanked it open, slipping inside. Tracy tore away the tape she had put over the latch, allowing the door to lock when she closed it. Not stopping to undress, Tracy practically dove into bed and wrapped herself in the covers. She was still trying to catch her breath when she heard someone jiggle the door handle. Then... nothing. Terry must have moved on to the next door. For a while, Tracy just lay there, feeling the adrenaline drain from her system. She could fell her hands begin to tingle and shake.

 

Eventually, Tracy pushed the covers aside and got out of bed. She carefully took everything out of her pockets and laid it out on the bed. Two of the cables were missing. She double-checked all her pockets and found one of them in the pants pocket, but the other one was nowhere to be found.

 

"That's not good," Tracy murmured, mentally retracing her steps. She had kept the lockpick gun in a different coat pocket than the cables, so it probably hadn't been pulled out when she picked the lock in Dr.Scott's office. That left the stairs and hallways.

 

I guess I'll have to hope nobody finds it before I can look for it tomorrow.

 

Tracy ejected the storage chip from the tablet and taped it to the inside of the back cover of her book. Then she put the tools back under the false bottom of the overnight bag along with the lab coat and the face mask she had used.

 

By the time everything was squared away, Tracy's diaper was so swollen that step was a squishy waddle. She pulled off the shirt and sweatpants, grabbed a fresh diaper and headed to the tiny bathroom. Using wipes and then a washcloth to clean herself, Tracy emerged feeling a lot better about herself a few minutes later. The ointment made everything feel slippery, and her thoughts returned to the vibrator that Kat had put in her bag.

 

It's not like anyone would know...

 

Tracy unwrapped the vibrator and just looked at it. It almost felt as if the colour itself was making fun of her reluctance; daring her to use it.

 

She picked it up, holding it like an oversized pen. The silicone rubber felt alien; an uncanny valley of not-quite-skin. Tracy fidgeted with the ridged ring at the base and almost dropped the vibrator when she accidentally turned it on. The buzzing was loud and unmistakable in the otherwise silent room. Intinctively, Tracy shoved the vibrator under the covers to muffle the noise. It was only partially effective. Then Tracy's brain caught up with her reflexes and she pulled it back out again and just turned it off. She did not, however, put it away.

 

Tracy held the vibrator between her hand and the diaper. It didn't feel all that different from just her hand. And when she rubbed her hand slowly back and forth, the hard lump seemed to hit just the right spots.

 

Tracy climbed into bed and turned off the lights, turning the ceiling into a multi-coloured mosaic of reflected neon lights. She could have closed the curtains, but these were privacy windows and to be honest, the view was spectacular. Or at least a significant upgrade from the view of the delapidated apartment building across the street from her own bedroom.

 

Tracy pulled the covers all the way up to her chin before letting her hands wander to down to her diaper.

 

The smooth plastic felt warm against Tracy's hand, and when she gave it a squeeze, the ointment made the inside feel more like damp velvet than the usual tissue paper. That was really all the encouragement Tracy needed. She closed her eyes and imagined her favourite scenario; or rather, remembered it. The clinic bed became the giant bed in Cory's hotel room. Tracy bunched up the covers and wrapped her legs around it, imagining it was Cory and that she was holding her, resting her chin on Cory's shoulder. In her mind's eye, Tracy looked down to see Cory's spread legs and Kat lying between them, looking back up at the two of them.

 

Tracy slid the vibrator up against her diaper and turned it on. The noise was muted by the bunched-up covers, but the added pressure seemed to enhance the vibrations. It almost felt like her entire crotch was buzzing. She wrapped her arms around the pretend-Cory, hugging her close and grinding her hips against her. She could almost smell Cory's hair, and hear her and Kat's moans.

 

Tracy could feel tension building in her stomach. She bit her lip as her imaginary Cory wriggled in her grip as Kat brought her, and Tracy, closer and closer to an orgasm. Then, just as she was about to climax, Tracy felt a warm gush as she wet herself. But before she had time to react, the vibrations caught up with her. She let out a shuddering sigh as she came. It felt like waves of warmth were flowing out from her crotch to fill her body, melting her muscles.

 

As Tracy lay there, just basking in the afterglow, she felt the other warmth seep down to pool under her butt. She wanted to change to a dry diaper, but not just yet. The wet diaper, the slick ointment, and the buzzing vibrator that was held in place by the bunched up covers felt so good, all she wanted was to just keep imagining Kat and Cory. She hugged her imaginary Cory and sighed happily.

 

Just a couple of minutes more.

[Gummybear]

My goodness, this story has decided to really become a struggle to write.  Finding the right words is like trying to wrestle a greased python  Anyway, here's part 8 of the story.  Enjoy, and please feel free to write comments or suggestions for a title, since i still haven't been able to come up with a good one.
(And as always, feel free to check out The Scriptorium to get the lastest chapters first.)

 

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"I see someone was busy last night."

 

Tracy's eyes flew open. Sunlight was streaming in through the window. A nurse stood by the door with a bundle under her arm.

 

"I... I don't..." Tracy started, trying to think of an excuse for having been seen during her break-in.

 

"Sweetie, I can hear the buzzing from here." The nurse grinned knowingly.

 

Tracy suddenly realised what the nurse was talking about. She dug her hands down under the bunched-up covers she had been hugging, fumbling around to find the vibrator and turn it off.

 

"Um... I don't... I mean, I-"

 

The nurse put a hand on Tracy's shoulder. "It's okay. According to your file, masturbation is a healthy response to your... new situation."

 

Tracy blushed. She tried to sneak the vibrator under her pillow, but the nurse grabbed it.

 

"Aren't you lucky that your mommy packed your toys?"

 

"What? What do you mean 'mommy'?"

 

The nurse tilted her head slightly to the side, looking a little confused. "What do you mean, what do I mean? It's all in your admittance contract. While you're here, you are to be treated more or less like a child."

 

"Oh," Tracy said. "I thought that just meant the diap... you know." She gave a little nod.

 

The nurse smiled wryly. "'Fraid not. You get to eat on your own though, and pick your own clothes, but your diaper changes are either done by us, or your... girlfriend? Wife?"

 

"Girlfriend," Tracy answered.

 

"Yes, and we will be referring to your girlfriend as your mommy. It's all part of the treatment, meant to maximise the chances for the procedure to succeed."

 

"OK then," Tracy said hesitantly.

 

"Excellent. Now, do you need any help in the bathroom?" the nurse asked as she picked up the covers and moved them to the chair next to the bed. Then she unrolled a changing pad and slid it under Tracy's butt.

 

"What do you mean?"

 

"I mean, does the little baby need a little help wiping after she goes boom-boom?" The nurse smiled at the juvenile term.

 

"Uh, no," Tracy said, taken slightly aback. "I think I can manage."

 

"Wonderful." The nurse quickly ripped the tabs on Tracy's diaper and used the top of diaper to dab Tracy dry. "Off you go then."

 

Tracy reached for her clothes, but the nurse snatched them up.

 

"Hurry up now. You don't want to miss breakfast, now do you?" The nurse nodded toward the tiny bathroom. "And don't forget your mask."

 

That's when Tracy realised that the nurse had seen her face all this time. She grabbed the mask and practically ran to the bathroom, not even bothering to cover up.

 

How the hell did I forget to put my mask back on last night?

 

Tracy sat on the toilet and stared at the blue spandex in her hands.

 

'Cause you were horny and took your eye off the ball.

 

Tracy leaned her head back to keep her hair out of the way and pulled the mask on. She knew it was stupid, but once it was on, she felt more like Ivana than Tracy. Even if she had messed up and forgotten to put the mask back on after her little walkabout.

 

Once she was done, Tracy washed her hands and looked for the towel; not just to dry her hands, but also to wrap around herself to provide a layer of cover when she exited the bathroom. It didn't matter if the nurse was going to see her at her most bare and exposed when she diapered her; Tracy was not going to parade out of the bathroom in the buff. Then she remembered that the towel was on the chair next to the bed. Right where she had left it before going to bed. Realising that this battle for dignity was lost, Tracy took a deep breath and opened the door.

 

"There, feel better?" the nurse asked with a tone that could have been genuine cheeriness; Tracy couldn't tell. She patted the changing pad on the bed. "Now why don't you hop up here and we'll get you ready."

 

Tracy sat down on the pad and laid back. Lying like this felt even more awkward now that she was alone, compared to the day before. Having Kat there had given Tracy something else to focus on. Now it was just the nurse and a very, very naked Tracy. When the nurse spread her legs, Tracy felt so exposed that she pulled the pillow out from beneath her head and hid her face in it.

 

The warm washcloth almost made Tracy jump. She knew that she would be cleaned before being diapered, but the soft cloth surprised her. Its velvety touch felt much better than the wipes she usually used.

 

From behind the pillow, Tracy heard the crinkling sound of a diaper being unfolded. A warm hand slid under Tracy's butt and pushed up, signalling her to lift her hips. As she did, the nurse slid the diaper under her butt. The nurse was gentle, but professional as she applied the cream and gave Tracy a quick dusting of baby powder before pulling the diaper up between her legs and taping it in place. Some detached part of Tracy's mind noticed how different this was compared to when Kat changed her diaper. The nurse was more matter-of-factly and a lot less playful than Kat, for obvious reasons.

 

"There you are. Isn't that better?" The nurse gave Tracy's padded crotch a little pat.

 

Tracy looked over the top of her pillow. "Yeah, I guess," she admitted. The diaper was thinner than the night-time diaper she had been wearing, but it was still thicker than the kind she usually wore.

 

The nurse picked up the plastic bag with the wet diaper and headed out the door, returning a few seconds later, carrying a covered tray.

 

"So, here's your breakfast. I'm assuming you can dress and eat by yourself?" The nurse put the tray on the chair next to Tracy's bed.

 

"Yeah." Tracy nodded. Being treated like a child by this complete stranger felt very strange.

 

"That's a good girl." The nurse patted the top of Tracy's head. Then she checked the "158" on Tracy's hand, redrawing the 8 since it was a little faded.

 

"OK, you have your first therapy session in an hour in room 105, a medical check-up with Dr Scott at noon, and then back to 105 for your second therapy session right after that. Do you think you can find your way on your own?"

 

"105? That's two floors down, right?" Tracy asked. The nurse nodded.

 

"Is it OK if I use the stairs instead of the elevator? I need to stretch my legs a little. I mean, I'm not going to set off a fire alarm or something if I use them or anything?"

 

"No, no alarms there, so you should be fine. Just remember that we're not responsible if you fall and injure yourself."

 

Tracy nodded.

 

"Now why don't you eat your breakfast. After all, breakfast is the most important meal of the day, especially for a growing girl like you." The nurse winked and smiled as she left.

 

For a minute or so after the nurse left, Tracy just sat cross-legged on the bed, trying to process everything that had happened over the last day. She had been seen naked by more people the last 24 hours than in the last 24 years. She was sitting in an exclusive medical clinic, wearing a soon-to-be wet diaper, about to be encouraged to wet herself.

 

Definitely on my list of top five strangest weeks.

 

Tracy got dressed and sat down in the chair, balancing the tray on her lap. She could feel heat radiating through the bottom of the tray, telling her that this was probably what Kat referred to as a 'proper breakfast'.

 

God, I hope it's not oatmeal or some kind of mushy baby food.

 

Cautiously lifting the lid, Tracy breathed a sigh of relief. Scrambled eggs, bacon, a couple of bread rolls and a banana. The smell made Tracy's stomach grumble as she realised how hungry she actually was.

 

The eggs could have used a little more salt and the bacon hadn't been fried to the crunchy perfection that Kat managed, but all in all, the breakfast was better than what she had had in a long while.

 

After she was done, Tracy put on her sneakers. She gave herself a final check-up in the bathroom mirror, making sure her hoodie was long enough to hide her generously padded posterior.

 

Tracy made her way along the corridor to the stairs, retracing her route from the night before, looking for the missing cable. The stairwell seemed less ominous during the day. When Tracy paused on the middle landing, she felt the tiniest twinge of pressure in her bladder, but it only lasted for a second before it was replaced by a warm trickle. Tracy gasped. The sensation was so different from voluntarily letting go. She leaned against the wall and closed her eyes, smiling as she focused on the slowly spreading patch of heat between her legs.

 

She knew it would only last a couple of weeks, and she was grateful for that. It would be inconvenient to actually need to wear diapers, instead of just wearing them for fun. But that didn't stop her from wishing there was a way to turn the incontinence on and off once this case was over.

 

Tracy allowed herself to enjoy the sensation a little while longer before continuing down the stairs. The diapers had already absorbed her urine without any noticeable swelling, and they still felt dry. The only indication she had wet herself was a lingering warmth. Tracy made a mental note to ask what brand they were.

 

Exiting the stairwell on the clinic's bottom floor, Tracy looked around to get her bearings. To her right were the doctor's offices and the door to the front desk and exit. To her left was a door marked "Common area". Tracy wasn't sure what she had expected when she opened the door, but the view that met her certainly wasn't it.

 

The common area was two storeys high. There was a dark green carpet that almost looked like grass and numerous large potted plants. It almost looked like a little park. A few masked patients were milling around, talking or just relaxing in the sunlight streaming in through the floor-to-ceiling windows. In one corner, a twitchy man seemed to be having an animated discussion with either himself or the wall. Along the wall opposite the windows was a row of numbered doors. Avoiding eye contact with anyone, Tracy found door number 105 and knocked.

 

"Enter," a voice on the other side of the door called out and the door buzzed. Tracy was again surprised when she saw the therapy room. It looked like a small living room or cosy den. There was a large screen hanging on the wall, a comfortable-looking sofa, and even a mini-fridge in the corner. Sitting on the sofa was a matronly-looking woman in her forties, wearing a lab coat.

 

"Ah, 158. Right on time. That's a nice change of pace from most of my patients. I'm Doctor Rebecca Poole."

 

"Uh, hi." Tracy said, giving an awkward, little wave.

 

"Please, have a seat while I explain how this works."

 

Tracy sat down at the other end of the sofa, almost pulling her legs up to sit cross-legged, but realising that that would make the bulge of her diaper quite prominent.

 

Dr Poole double-checked her notes. "Hmm... incontinence. Interesting. Anyway, what we're doing here is subliminals. It's really quite simple. You're going to watch a movie and that'll reinforce the already existing behaviour." She held up a handful of wires. "And we'll be monitoring your physical responses with these.

 

"So, I'm going to be watching porn while you watch me?" Tracy gave Dr Poole a disbelieving stare.

 

Dr Poole shrugged. "Sure, if that's what you want to watch. Me, I'd go with a nice rom-com or maybe a period piece. We have quite a varied library to choose from."

 

"Oh," Tracy said, feeling like an idiot.

 

Dr Poole handed Tracy a remote control the size of a small keyboard. "Why don't you take off that mask and find a movie you like while I get you hooked up with these." She held up the sensors.

 

Tracy glanced towards the door as she hesitantly reached for her neck to pull the ski mask up.

 

"Don't worry. The door's locked, so nobody's coming in."

 

Tracy turned on the screen and started going through the list of films and series.

 

"Anything between ninety minutes and two hours should do the trick," Dr Poole said as she leaned in to put sensors on Tracy's head, pausing when she saw the plug behind her right ear.

 

"Is that a computer link?"

 

"Why?" Tracy put down the remote control.

 

"We can hook you up using that instead of all these sensors up to it and get more accurate readings."

 

"Sorry, it's only a partial one. It can do basic VR and remote control, but that's about it," Tracy lied. She did not want to risk anyone snooping around her firmware.

 

"That's too bad." Dr Poole finished sticking electrodes to Tracy's head and neck and handed her a final cable, ending in a credit card-sized sensor; light blue on one side and white on the other.

 

Tracy looked at the sensor, then at Dr Poole.

 

"Oh, it's a moisture sensor. It goes down the front of your..." she nodded, "...your diapers. I figured you'd prefer to put it there yourself."

 

"Good call."

 

"The blue side goes against your skin," Dr Poole said, clearly trying to sound considerate, but also professional. "And you have to slide it all the way down," she added before turning around to give Tracy a modicum of privacy, however illusory.

 

Tracy eyed the large piece of plastic for a few seconds. Then she sighed with resignation and undid the drawstring holding her sweatpants up. She pulled the diapers out and slid the sensor inside, suppressing a shiver at the touch of the cool plastic.

 

"OK, I'm done," Tracy said as she tied the drawstring. Dr Poole handed her a pair of big earphones, then gathered up the different coloured leads from all the electrodes, plugging them all into a laptop on a table behind the sofa.

 

"Did you find a film?"

 

Tracy nodded, the big earphones feeling heavy. "Yeah. The Third Man."

 

"Hmm, interesting."

 

"How so?"

 

"Oh, I just figured you'd go for something newer."

 

"It's my second favourite film, but you didn't have The Maltese Falcon."

 

"I see." Dr Poole handed Tracy a bottle of water. "OK, let's get started. We need to calibrate the earphones. I'm going to play a tone starting above human hearing range and slowly lower the frequency. You let me know when you can hear it. Got it?"

 

"Mm-hmm."

 

Tracy closed her eyes and listened, but the only thing she could hear was silence so quiet it was almost a sound in itself. She was about to ask Dr Poole if she had started when she heard it: A faint buzzing whistle, like a mosquito.

 

"There," she said. "I hear it."

 

"M'kay. You can start the film whenever you're ready."

 

Tracy sat back and pressed play on the remote, and the sound of a zither filled her earphones.

 

 

~~~

 

 

An hour and forty minutes later, Tracy's imaginary trip to post-World War 2 Vienna was over. She turned to Dr Poole and gestured to the earphones, receiving a nod in return. Tracy took them off and handed them back to Dr Poole along with the remote control. When she turned back towards the screen, shifting her weight, Tracy realised that her diaper was far wetter than she had thought. She knew she had wet herself several times while watching the film, but she hadn't been keeping track of much. It was so swollen that walking would result in what Kat affectionately called her 'penguin waddle'. Tracy slid a hand down behind her, trying to discreetly check for leaks.

 

"Are you okay?" Dr Poole asked. She leaned closer and reached for the electrodes on Tracy's forehead.

 

Tracy suddenly felt like she had been caught with her hand in the cookie jar. "Uh, yeah. I just... I'm..."

 

"Oh, I see. Let me just get these off and I'll take you to get changed." She plucked the tape holding the electrodes in place and, one by one, lined them up on the table next to the laptop. "I'll let you pull out the last one. Just wrap it in this." She handed Tracy a washcloth before turning away.

 

Tracy leaned back and sucked in her stomach, pulling the sensor out by its lead. She wrapped it in the washcloth and tied the drawstring on her sweatpants again.

 

"OK, I'm done." Tracy handed the wrapped sensor to Dr Poole and eased herself up from the sofa, doing her best not to put any weight on the diaper.

 

"Don't forget your mask," Dr Poole reminded her. Tracy looked around and eventually found it halfway down between two of the sofa cushions.

 

"You good?" Dr Poole asked when Tracy had her mask back on.

 

Tracy nodded while standing bow-legged in the middle of the room. She felt an anxious knot in her stomach. She really didn't want anyone to see her waddle around the common areas. "Is it far?"

 

"Just a couple of rooms over." Dr Poole unlocked the door and opened it, letting in the dazzling sunlight. Tracy squinted as she followed her out. She tried her best not to waddle, forcing herself to put one foot in front of the other like a model on a catwalk, feeling her diaper squish with every mincing step.

 

When Dr Poole opened the door to let Tracy inside, she darted in and just stood there, leaning against the wall with her eyes closed. The fifty steps from room 105 had felt like they took forever.

 

"You just wait here and I'll find someone to come change you." The door closed and Tracy was left alone. The room looked more like a regular hospital examination room with its paper-covered examination table, stainless steel counters and small rolling tables. Tracy walked over to the table and ran her hand over the rough paper cover. She didn't want to sit down and put any more weight on her diaper and risk a leak. When the door unlocked, Tracy saw the same nurse that had changed her only a few hours earlier.

 

"Well hello there 158. Dr Poole said you needed a fresh diaper?"

 

"Uh, yeah."

 

The nurse unceremoniously put a hand between Tracy's legs and squeezed the sagging diaper, making Tracy jump and let out a quick squeak.

 

"Oh my, you've been a good girl and really peed a lot, haven't you," the nurse said with a smile that made Tracy feel a strange combination of safety and embarrassment.

 

"I don't usually... you know... not this much," Tracy stammered, feeling awkward about the weight hanging between her legs.

 

"That's probably the diuretics. It's all part of the treatment. Now, why don't we get those pants off so we can get you changed."

 

The nurse helped Tracy take off her sweatpants, then surprised her by grabbing the hem of the hoodie and pulling it up and off in one swift move, leaving Tracy wearing nothing but her t-shirt and the now obviously sagging diaper.

 

"Aww, don't you look as cute as a button," the nurse said with a smile, making Tracy blush. She put a changing pad on the table and filled a small basin with water.

 

"Why don't you just hop up on the table so we can get started." When Tracy hesitated, the nurse looked at her standing bow-legged next to the table before replying to what Tracy hadn't said. "Don't worry. It's not going to leak. And even if it does, that's what the pad is for."

 

Tracy reluctantly clambered onto the table and gingerly sat down, grimacing at the squishing sensation. The nurse put a hand on her shoulder and gently pushed her back until she was lying on her back. The ripped the tapes open with practised ease, exposing the clammy skin underneath. Tracy lifted her hips off the table to let the nurse pull the diaper out from under her. The feeling of the dry pad against her buttocks was a welcome change.

 

Ten minutes later, Tracy was washed and rediapered. As she walked out the door into the bright mid-day sun of the common area, she couldn't help swaying her hips a little extra to feel her ointment-slick buttocks. As the nurse closed the door behind them she handed Tracy a water bottle.

 

"It's important to get enough liquids when you're on diuretics," she said at Tracy's unasked question. "So be a good girl and drink it all while you're playing with the other children."

 

"I'm not a baby, you know," Tracy said as she rolled her eyes.

 

The nurse laughed. "I know. I just think this is all a little cute." She gave Tracy's butt a playful little pat. "Now off you go."

 

Tracy sighed as the nurse walked off, leaving her alone in the indoor park. She glanced at the clock on the wall. There was still more than an hour before her noon appointment. She walked across the fake grass to a bench with a view and sat down, leaning back and closing her eyes.

 

"Hi, you're new, ain't 'cha?" an unfamiliar voice said far too soon.

 

Tracy opened her eyes. Silhouetted against the sunlight was a woman wearing a short sun dress. She had the same blue ski mask as Tracy, marking her as a fellow patient.

 

"Mm-hmm." Tracy nodded.

 

"Mind if I join you?" the woman asked, then sat down next to Tracy without waiting for an answer.

 

"I'm Tessa," she said and held out a hand.

 

"Iv-" Tracy stopped herself. "Um, I thought we're supposed to not use our names."

 

Tessa made a dismissive sound. "Tessa is a common enough name. Nobody's gonna find out who I am as long as I don't show my face. Same thing for you Eve."

 

"I guess," Tracy admitted. She didn't see any need to correct Tessa's misunderstanding about her fake name.

 

"Hey, if you want I can call you..." she checked Tracy's hand, "One-fifty-eight. Nah, too long. Eight. I'll just call you Eight."

 

Tracy looked down to Tessa's hand. It bore the number 437. "Either one is fine," she said as she looked at a trio of restless patients at the other end of the room.

 

Tessa followed Tracy's gaze. "Look, you're new here, so let me give you some free advice. Those guys over there are here for drug rehab. You wanna stay away from'em. Way to much drama. And you especially wanna steer clear of the short guy. Nasty temper."

 

Tracy opened her water bottle and drank a couple of mouthfuls. "So I take it you're not here for drugs?"

 

"Nah. Court-ordered sex addiction treatment." Tessa rolled her eyes. "Which is just stupid. Sure, I probably have more sex than the average person, but I'm not a sex addict." She emphasised the last word. "I just like sex. What about you?"

 

"Court-ordered? What did you do? Get caught masturbating in a changing room?" Tracy joked.

 

Tessa shrugged. "Threesome in a public library."

 

"Seriously?"

 

"But it was in the section on reproductive biology," she argued. "But what about you then?"

 

Tessa looked Tracy up and down. "You don't seem twitchy enough to be here for drugs, and you're definitely not one of the eating disorder crowd. That means it's either something embarrassing or you're just some kind of cray-cray."

 

As Tracy edged away, her diaper crinkled. It wasn't particularly loud, but Tracy cringed, hoping Tessa hadn't heard it. But she had.

 

"Oooo-kay. So not cuckoo for cocoa puffs then." Tessa leaned back and looked out the huge window.

 

"You don't think it's weird and gross?" Tracy said, surprised at Tessa's reaction.

 

Tessa shrugged. "I mean, I tried it. I dated a guy who was into that a couple of years ago, but it wasn't really my thing, but you do you, Eight."

 

"Huh." Tracy had some more water to buy herself some time to figure out what to say next. She looked back at the twitchy trio. When she did, Tessa nudged her arm.

 

"Don't stare. They don't like that."

 

"Oh, OK. Any other tips?"

 

Tessa shook her head. "Not really. There's only seven of us here right now."

 

"Seven?"

 

"Yeah. Those three guys, and you and me, There's some old guy. I think he's here for alcoholism. Hardly ever leaves his room. And then there's Eric."

 

"And what's his deal?" Tracy asked, mentally building up a list of the people in the clinic.

 

"Social media addiction. His parents dumped him here. Cute kid. I'd give'im a quick roll in the hay, but he's a little too young for me. He's got his therapy sessions now."

 

Tracy nodded. "So what do you guys do to pass the time here?"

 

"Gossip, read, and mostly just try to not go nuts from boredom. I think there's some board games around here somewhere. They severely restrict screen access to make us look forward to the therapy sessions, so I've read more books these last two weeks than in the last two years." Tessa paused. "That blonde friend of yours-"

 

"How do you know about Kat?" Tracy blurted out.

 

"I saw her yesterday when she wandered in here looking for a nurse. Anyway, do you think you could get her to bring me some new books? The smuttier the better. There's only so much 'quality literature' a girl can take."

 

Tracy realised Tessa could be a goldmine of inside information. "I'll see what I can do. No guarantees though." Tracy leaned back and stretched her legs, sliding forward on her seat. She squinted out at the city, wishing she had brought sunglasses as she let the bright sunlight warm her.

 

"At least the view's nice," Tracy said, trying to make small talk and to see if she could tease out any more information from Tessa.

 

"I don't know. It gets kinda samey after a while. And it sucks that they won't let me work on my all-over tan. Fucking nudity police," Tessa grumbled.

 

They sat quietly for a while. Tracy tried to hear what the trio of addicts were saying, but despite the intensity of their discussion, they were talking too quietly for her to hear anything clearly.

 

The sneeze came out of nowhere, almost making Tracy bounce out of her seat. It also started a fresh trickle of pee. Again, Tracy tried to clench to stop it, and again she failed. With a sigh she gave up and just let the warmth make its way down to pool where her butt met the hard seat.

 

"Gesundheit."

 

"Thanks," Tracy murmured. She glanced over at Tessa. She was sitting leaned back with her eyes closed, just like Tracy. But unlike Tracy, she had her hand between her legs. Granted, she was being discreet about it, but there was no mistaking what she was doing.

 

Yeah sure, you're not a sex addict. Not at all.

 

Tracy didn't say anything as her voyeuristic tendencies kicked in. She pretended to be dozing while she continued watching Tessa out of the corner of her half-closed eye. The dark blue ski mask combined with the flowery dress and the light, park-like surroundings made the whole scene seem like something out of a surrealist porno movie.

 

Tessa's breath was quickening when a someone came around the bench to stand in front of them. Tracy tried her best to fake waking up, opening her eyes and looking up at the nurse silhouetted against the bright city skyline.

 

"Now now, I thought we had an understanding about this," the nurse said. "I'd hate to take your husband's suggestion seriously."

 

Tessa sighed so heavily that Tracy could almost hear her rolling her eyes. She rested her hands palms down on her knees.

 

"That's better. Now, 158, it's time for your check-up."

 

"Yeah, OK." Tracy slid forward and awkwardly got to her feet, doing her best not to put any weight on the wet parts of her diaper.

 

Tessa raised an eyebrow and smiled knowingly at her. "See you afterwards?" she asked.

 

"Maybe. I have another therapy session right afterwards."

 

"Well, I'll see you when I see you then," Tessa said with a nonchalant shrug. She scowled at the nurse and crossed her arms over her chest, looking remarkably like a sulking child.

 

Tracy followed the nurse. She did her best not to waddle, cringing inward as the heavy mass between her legs squished against her with every step.

 

"You're wet again?" The nurse turned to look at Tracy as she opened the door to the examination room. It was less of a question and more a statement of fact.

 

"Is it that obvious?" Tracy was suddenly infinitely more aware of her soggy diaper. She looked around, worried someone had noticed it.

 

The nurse noticed Tracy's nervous looks and took her hand to calm her down. "Don't worry Pumpkin. You're doing a good job of hiding it." She led Tracy into the examination room and closed the door behind them. "It was more of an educated guess. I saw how you got up from the bench."

 

"Oh." Tracy knew it was only to make her feel comfortable, but it still felt strange having someone other than Kat call her by childish pet names.

 

"And you don't have to feel embarrassed about being wet either. That just means the treatment's working. Now why don't you take off those sweatpants and hop up on the table. The doctor should be here any minute."

 

Once the nurse left, Tracy untied the drawstring and let the pants fall to the floor, stepping out of them. She climbed up on the table and awkwardly laid down, putting her feet in the stirrups to keep her weight on the dry part of her diaper. For the next couple of long minutes, she just listened to the silence and tried to calculate the number of dimples in the acoustic ceiling tiles. There was a new trickle, reheating her diaper before pooling under Tracy's butt.

 

Eventually, the nurse returned with Dr Scott. Tracy closed her eyes and tried to distract herself while the nurse removed her diaper. Dr Scott inserted something that looked disturbingly like a smaller version of the borescope Tracy had in her tool kit to inspect the injection site in her bladder. Tracy suspected that the neurotoxin's numbing and paralysing effect helped make the insertion much less uncomfortable than it would otherwise have been. The examination was a pretty brief affair and thankfully free of cutesy pet names and baby talk.

 

After Dr Scott left, the nurse washed Tracy's crotch and put her in a fresh diaper. She handed Tracy her sweatpants and waited for her to put them on before taking her hand and leading her to the therapy room.

 

The second therapy session was more or less the same as the first one. The same sensors stuck to Tracy's skull and down her diaper, and the same doctor. Tracy chose a different film though, going with a 60-year-old version of The Long Goodbye that she hadn't seen before, but she figured it probably had the same kind of subliminals.

 

After the session was done, Tracy was wet again, but instead of leading Tracy back to the exam room to change her, the nurse guided her toward the elevator.

 

"Where...? I thought we were done for the day." Tracy couldn't remember there being anything else on the schedule she had been given that morning.

 

The nurse pressed the button for the top floor and waited for the elevator doors to close. "Well, since your mommy is here, I figured you'd want her to change you. After all, that's something you both are going to have to get used to."

 

"Mm-hmm." Tracy didn't say that she was already quite used to Kat changing her diaper.

 

The elevator stopped and the doors slid open with a muted ding. As Tracy followed the nurse down the corridor she looked at the patient numbers written on the little plaques below each room number. Tessa's number, 437, was written on the door to room 308, confirming Tracy's suspicion that she was the one 'entertaining' the night orderlies.

 

"And here we are," the nurse said, unlocking the door to Tracy's room. "You two have fun now." The nurse actually winked as she turned and left.

 

Kat was standing by the window, looking very unlike her usual self. Unlike the day before, when she had worn what could best be described as classy casual clothes, she was wearing a men's suit that made her look like some kind of butch, high-powered lawyer.

 

"Oh wow," Tracy whispered after an involuntary gasp.

 

Kat turned and smiled. "You like it?" she asked as she came closer. She was practically oozing confidence, making Tracy feel like an underdressed slob in her hoodie and sweat pants.

 

"Uh-huh." Tracy let her eyes roam up and down Kat's body.

 

Kat took Tracy's hands and walked backwards, pulling Tracy along. As she reached the bed, Kat reached up and pulled Tracy's ski mask off. She stroked her cheek with the backs of her fingers. "And does my little penguin-bunny need to be changed?"

 

Tracy lowered her head.

 

"You wanna let mommy take care of it?"

 

Tracy was about to say something when Kat gave her an almost imperceptible shake of her head. "In case they're listening," she mouthed.

 

"OK, yeah," Tracy said quietly.

 

Kat slid her arms down to grab the hem of Tracy's hoodie, pulling it up and off. Next she untied the drawstring on Tracy's sweatpants and pulled them down past the diapers to let them fall down to pool around her ankles. She ran a hand over the smooth plastic backing of Tracy's diaper.

 

"Oh my, this is really full. Did mommy's little bunny have a lot to drink today?" Kat winked.

 

"Yeah," Tracy said in her best little-girl-voice. "I'm all wet."

 

"What do you say we get you cleaned up before we eat." Kat nodded toward the plastic bag filled with take-out boxes.

 

Tracy nodded meekly and stepped out of the sweatpants. Kat moved the covers to the head of the bed and unfolded the changing pad.

 

"If you have anything left in the tank, now's the time to let it out." Kat put a hand on Tracy's stomach and gently pushed.

 

"It doesn't really work like that."

 

"Oh?"

 

"I don't know if I need to go before it just sort of happens on its own."

 

"So it's not like you can feel the buildup and you're powerless to stop it. Interesting." Kat smiled. "So this is really different from when I have you all wrapped up and helpless."

 

Tracy nodded.

 

"But it's only the peeing you can't stop. You still have control of..." Kat hesitated. "Do you need to use the bathroom before we change you?"

 

Tracy shrugged. "Kinda. Might as well."

 

Kat chuckled as Tracy waddled across the room to the bathroom.

 

"What?" Tracy turned and looked at Kat who was leaning against the wall, grinning like a Cheshire cat.

 

"Oh nothing," Kat said. "You just look so adorable in your diapers and t-shirt. Mommy's adorable little baby girl." Kat found one of the thick overnight diapers and unfolded it, making sure it crinkled loudly as she laid it out on the bed.

 

"Just call when you're done, Sweetie, and we'll get you all nice and clean."

 

Tracy sighed and rolled her eyes as she closed the door to the bathroom.

 

A few minutes later, she opened the door to let Kat in. She had removed her jacket, but still looked just as professional in her white shirt and tie.

 

"Did you wash your hands?" Kat asked as she filled the sink with luke-warm water.

 

Tracy nodded. "Yes," she whispered

 

"Yes, what?"

 

"Really?"

 

"Yes. Yes, what."

 

"Yes, mommy."

 

"Much better." Kat stood behind Tracy, reaching around her to soak a washcloth in the sink. "Now spread your legs a little. And let me know if you need to pee."

 

Tracy's knees went wobbly as Kat slid the wet cloth between her legs, but Kat steadied her. She nudged her head under Tracy's arm, using her shorter stature to her advantage to support Tracy while gently cleaning her from stem to stern. The small, unfamiliar bathroom made it easy for Tracy to imagine what was a secret fantasy of hers: Being changed in a public restroom. It was not something she'd ever agree to do in real life, but she still fantasised about Kat leading her by the hand to a restaurant restroom and changing her right there and then.

 

"Do you like that?" Kat whispered as Tracy let out a sigh.

 

"Mm-hmm." Tracy nodded and smiled.

 

"I can tell." Kat gave Tracy a final wipe before dropping the washcloth in the sink. "There, all better. Now you go lie down on the bed and I'll be right out."

 

The sensation of cool air on her naked skin as she walked across the room, raised goosebumps on Tracy's skin. She climbed onto the bed, sat down on the changing pad, and laid back on the bunched up covers behind her.

 

"Sooo..." Kat came out of the bathroom. "I hear you found the toys I packed for you."

 

"How- How did you..." Tracy sputtered. She nervously pulled the neck of the t-shirt up to hide her suddenly burning cheeks.

 

"The nurses kept me updated on your... progress." Kat pulled the t-shirt down and gently kissed Tracy's forehead. "They said that masturbation is a sign that your adjusting well to your diapers.

 

"And of course that's the only reason you brought it up," Tracy said, her voice dripping with sarcasm. She realised that it was a mistake the moment she said it. Kat was obviously in a teasing mood, so whatever came next, it was going to be embarrassing.

 

"Mommy just wants her little bunny to have fun." Kat slid a hand up Tracy's inner thigh, instantly raising goosebumps despite the warm sunlight. Tracy swallowed.

 

"So did you?" The hand slid a little higher.

 

Tracy nodded. "Yeah," she whispered.

 

"Wunderbar!" Kat beamed.

 

Tracy breathed a sigh of relief as Kat's hand withdrew. She and Kat had been seeing each other for almost half a year now, and they still hadn't slept together in any other sense than the strictly literal one. Sure, they had had sex, just not with each other; and it had been mostly Kat. And Tracy didn't want their first time to be in an unfamiliar hospital room, on a changing pad in case she wet herself. She knew that Kat understood this and wouldn't pressure her into doing something she wasn't okay with. On the other hand, she did like to tease and torment her as well.

 

"But Kat? Can't we just get the diaper on?"

 

"Very well." Kat made an exaggerated pout. "To be continued then," she said with a theatrical sigh.

 

Tracy lifted her hips to let Kat adjust the diaper.

 

"No rash yet. That's good," Kat opened the ointment jar and scooped out a generous amount of the white goop. She dipped a finger in it and painted a little smiley-face on Tracy's mound before spreading it out.

 

As Kat's slick fingers slid lower, Tracy closed her eyes and gritted her teeth, not wanting to give Kat the satisfaction of knowing exactly how turned on she was making her. Tracy's determination faltered and her breath caught in her throat when Kat's fingers slipped between her butt cheeks at the same time as her thumb brushed against her clit.

 

"You like that, don't you," Kat concluded. "Maybe we should use this more often."

 

"Mm-hmm."

 

Kat wiped her hands on Tracy's diaper before ducking into the bathroom to wash away the greasy remnants. Tracy stared at the ceiling while she tried to get her heart rate back down to normal.

 

"Do you think I can get you and Cory to pose for photos in nothing but body paint? Those lotion panties look great on you." Kat nodded toward Tracy's crotch.

 

"Seriously?" Tracy rolled her eyes and sighed.

 

"OK, but what if Cory and me wear the paint, and you can have overalls and hold a paint brush?"

 

"I'm not going to do a photo shoot with you, or Cory, or anybody else. You know my job kind of relies on my face not being recognised."

 

"There are ways around that." Kat dangled the blue ski mask in front of Tracy who gave her a deadpan look.

 

"Okay, okay," Kat said, raising her hands. "I'll behave." She pulled the diaper up between and quickly taped it in place. Tracy felt herself relax as the diaper pressed against her. She marvelled at how quickly she had come to rely on them.

 

"You go wash your hands, and I'll clean up here."

 

"And then we eat?" Tracy stepped into her sweat pants and pulled them up.

 

"Yes Häschen, then we'll have dinner. Even if it's a bit early."

 

When Tracy came back out of the bathroom, Kat ducked in, leaving her to unpack the food. She lifted the cardboard containers out of the plastic bag and opened them, savouring the smell of garlic beef stir fry and the blisteringly hot spicy chicken noodles Kat liked. Tracy sat down, thanking her lucky stars that there was a crinkle and not a squish when she did, and found paper plates and chopsticks.

 

When Kat joined her, she pulled a couple of bottles out of her bag. The contents were a colour not seen anywhere in nature and the labels were in Chinese. She twisted a cap on the bottom of the bottles before handing one to Tracy. As she took it, Tracy could feel the contents cooling.

 

"Cool."

 

"Very. Give it a minute and it'll be like it's straight from the fridge." Kat used her chopsticks to scoop a generous helping of noodles onto her plate. Having tried them before, Tracy steered clear of the noodles and reached for the stir fry and the rice instead.

 

"So how are things going? Are you having fun? Making friends?" Kat asked innocently as she brought out Tracy's hockey puck-sized noise generator from her pocket and switched it on.

 

"Did you find out anything?" Kat asked, her demeanour having instantly changed. The teasing mommy was gone, and she was all business. The switch was quite startling.

 

"Not really. I found a safe in Dr Scott's office. Real old. Mechanical lock. Couldn't crack it. But it makes sense that that's where he's keeping the ledger," Tracy said between mouthfuls. "I took pictures in case Ms Wilford wants to find someone else to crack it." She reached over to her night stand and grabbed the book with the chip hidden inside and handed it to Kat. "It's all on the chip."

 

"Dina started posting content again yesterday." Kat said.

 

"So that's it then; case closed. Right?" Tracy twisted the cap off the bottle and took a sip. It had an unidentifiable, fruity flavour.

 

"Not quite. She hasn't been in contact with the fiancé, and Wilford's guy-"

 

"Dominic?"

 

Kat shook her head. "No. Different guy. Anyway, he says that it's almost certainly AI-generated."

 

"Ooo-kay?"

 

"So we still need to actually find Dina."

 

Tracy nodded slowly and thought about it for a little while. "I did make friends with what seems to be the clinic's gossip queen. I could try to find out what she knows."

 

"It'll probably take Wilford some time to find someone who can crack a safe like that, so that's as good a plan as any."

 

"She's going to want something in return though."

 

"How much? I'll talk to Wilford."

 

"Not money. Porn."

 

"Porn?" Kat's chopsticks stopped halfway to her mouth.

 

"Yeah, she's here for sex addiction, and she's looking for... some stimulation. Hardcopy, since, you know, no net access. Think you can manage to find some quality smut by tomorrow?"

 

Kat just raised an eyebrow at Tracy. "Puh-leeze," she said. "What do you take me for? I could have it delivered here in an hour if I wanted." She had another mouthful of noodles, chewed and swallowed while Tracy just stared at her. "So, what kind?"

 

"Huh?"

 

"What kind of porn? Straight? Gay? Furry?" Kat paused and looked pointedly towards Tracy's lap. "Diapers?"

 

Tracy didn't really know why she blushed. "She- She didn't really say. I'm pretty sure she's into guys, so just regular straight porn, I guess."

 

"OK, one order of vanilla smut coming right up," Kat quipped. She folded the paper plate and funnelled the last bits of food into her mouth.

 

"Any other updates from the outside?"

 

"Nah, I think that's it.

 

Kat put the noise generator away and closed the half-full box of noodles. Then she just sat back and relaxed while Tracy finished the food on her plate.

 

"I still have a couple of hours before I have to go," Kat said when Tracy finished the last of her food. "Anything in particular you want to do?"

 

"Too bad we can't leave this place, 'cause right now I'd like nothing more than to curl up on your couch and watch a movie."

 

"I don't know about the couch, but there's the bed. And I think I can manage the other two." Kat pulled out her phone. "Of course, the screen isn't very big, so we'll have to get real close."

 

Kat got up and walked to the bed. She kicked off her shoes and sat down on the bed, patting the mattress next to her. "What do you say? Does mommy's little bunny want some snuggles?"