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?