The Caretaker's House - Chapters 1-40 - Updated 1/5/17
Date Published: August 10, 2012, 8:04pm
Written By: Nighthawk
Greetings and Salutations, readers. The following is a work of fiction; any and all similarities to persons living or dead is coicidental, the themes and topics discussed and described herein are of a mature and adult nature, regardless of content, and therefore by proceeding further you acknowledge that this is what you clicked on this thread for, and assume all liability for getting caught reading it by anyone. This story is the property of the author–Nighthawk–and is published here for the reading enjoyment of the ABDLStoryforum community: please do not re-post or archive this story, whole or in part, at any other site or source without my written consent. Please read responsibly.
The Caretaker’s HouseChapter One
There are some secrets kept so well that no one outside a sacred circle is wise to them. Likewise, there are secrets that are so well known, so commonplace as to be almost public knowledge—but referred to in hushed tones by those in the know—thus earning the distinction of being considered an ‘open’ secret. The Caretaker’s House was a tolerably well kept open secret, known only in person to a few young women, but known to many more at one or two removes via the Internet, a place spoken of both with respect and suspicion. Those who testified of their experiences there spoke of it in terms that ranged from benignly positive to glowing, while those who read these accounts (the ones at one or two removes) received them positively on the whole, while some within this group reacted adversely, opposing the existence of the House and what it did, for reasons generally surmised to be because the House hosted activities that the others coveted, but could not provide for with similar ease.
One of the primary negative responses to the Caretaker’s House was the rule that only women were admitted. In the group that the Caretaker’s House was known, men were the overwhelming majority, at least in terms of outspoken representatives, and women were, by and large, a coveted minority. Some men lobbied hard to be included in the House’s activities, but each time firmly rebuffed by the Caretaker himself. The Caretaker it was who owned the House, the Caretaker it was who set the rules of the House, and the Caretaker intended to carry on in this method whether the Internet approved of his conduct or not, emphasizing his absolute power over the House with such commanding finality, even on the Internet, that the majority—in this case, reasonable people who saw no profitable end in pursuing their argument for gender equality at the House—respected the decision and spread their attention across the broader landscape of the quasi-hidden world that was the overarching alternative lifestyle choice represented by the group as a whole. Sadly, several people refused to take ‘no’ for an answer, and continued to apply steady pressure to the Caretaker to be included in his annual events. As the pressure increased, the Caretaker took steps to become harder to reach, making full use of the burgeoning and constantly-evolving social media landscape to isolate himself from those he did not wish to associate with, or be accosted by. Attempts to circumvent the barriers usually resulted in negative consequences for the persecutor, usually for the reason that while not all approved of the Caretaker or his ways, the Caretaker’s reputation by word from so many mouths increased his value, and added to his allies, allies who themselves had certain administrative powers, and who valued the Caretaker in their own ways.
However, too much negative attention has its consequences, and the vicious truth of the modern digital world is that enough negative attention in one isolated corner can spread to other corners, corners where representatives of other lifestyles, similar or not, lurked and watched. Some of these representatives were there simply to heap derision or to attack for the simple reason of existence, but others were there for entirely different purposes. So it was that after a time the Caretaker and his House appeared on the radar of the Federal Bureau of Investigation.
It was a quiet appearance at first, a new variable catalogued and sorted in the elephantine but efficient world of the executors of law and order, exciting no comment, drawing no immediate investigation, and in general becoming one of hundreds and thousands of other variables sorted and catalogued in databases, perhaps one day to be called upon. It didn’t become noisy until some of those disenfranchised few who felt they had a bone to pick with the Caretaker began to spread rumors of illegal activities happening at the House, starting at first with confused and disjointed ramblings about illegal substances, drug abuse, prostitution, sexual assault, and other similarly unsavory doings. Some of these hits were noted and catalogued as well, and the entry for the Caretaker grew. However, nothing was concrete enough to warrant any further attention, and so the matter was left at that, and while new data points were added or appended as necessary, the FBI had better things to do than look into a flame war among fetishists who were having tantrums because they couldn’t go out and play. Some of the people at the FBI who watched these things for specific trends that did merit the FBI’s attention afforded themselves a chuckle over coffee about the strange things people did to amuse themselves, while in the backs of their minds they all knew that some of those strange things were dangerous indeed.
When a particularly nasty rumor popped up, it had the spectacular good fortune (for itself, not for the Caretaker) to appear at the same time as another long-running case spread across numerous states and many branches of the Bureau began to gather steam and move towards that satisfying resolution when those who did wrong were pulled from their dark warrens and thrown kicking and screaming into the light of justice, bound by law and steel, when cases could be closed and handshakes and commendations could be handed out for jobs well done. The reason the Caretaker came to the attention of this larger case was because of its similarity in terms of activities (real or alleged) that the FBI was pursuing with the intent to shut down. It was an evil that the FBI had a special loathing for, as did all right-thinking men and women on God’s green earth. It was exploitation of the innocent, abuse, and in its own way horrifying, and few things gratified the agents of the Federal Bureau of Investigation more than putting an end to such capers.
The white whale they were close to harpooning for good and all was a child pornography ring. They had names, they had postal addresses, they had phone numbers, and they had criminal histories, everything they needed to start reeling in the heavily laden net. When the Caretaker was accused of being in collusion with child pornographers, the FBI looked into him as well, intending to determine his guilt or his innocence while simultaneously moving forward with the case as a whole. The usual routine for such matters was put into practice at once. Accounts on forums were created, personas were crafted, and the hunt was on. The Caretaker was researched by people who were masters of their trade, and all initial evidence pointed to a quiet person who kept to himself, had a (mostly) glowing digital reputation, and seemed to be nothing more than an average American with a secret he didn’t want to see spread. The FBI was fine with that. What they were not fine with was the possibility that this quiet façade obscured sins for which the price must be paid. However, the initial investigation was turning up nothing linking the Caretaker or his House to the child pornographers the FBI was actively and very clandestinely pursuing. While some of the users they were digitally stalking frequented the same forums the Caretaker did, there was no evidence of relations that went beyond banal posts to forum threads that in and of themselves were neither illegal or otherwise damning (unless there were sticklers for grammar about). The more they dug, the more they came up empty-handed. But… there was still that one possibility that everything they saw was a cleverly built ruse. The FBI was close to one of the biggest child porn busts the world had ever seen. They didn’t want to let anyone slip through the cracks, they wanted every last criminal brought to justice. The loose end had to be tied off. There wasn’t one agent involved in the case, some who had been with it for years, who would tolerate a mistake or a lost opportunity. And so, after the research was completed, the determination was made to insert someone into the Caretaker’s House. That meant a suitable agent had to be located who would fit his particular rules and who could eventually gain enough trust to be admitted into a sacred circle of people who dealt with him personally.
In this regard the FBI had considerable resources, but time and location were important. The Bureau wanted no mistakes, so the usual order of business was a thorough, methodical investigation within the investigation. However, the pressure from on high was enough to cause some things, like the selection of a suitable agent, to be fast-tracked. The FBI searched its database, eliminating numerous candidates because of distance, involvement with other cases, or other variables they felt would be detrimental to the cause. Finally, the most likely candidates were selected (several instead of one just to be safe—no one was going to be forced into the position) and their respective superiors spoke to them about the case, their role, and its importance to the investigation as a whole. The first and second candidates to be offered the role (for role it would be) asked to be excused for logical reasons: one cited her inexperience with such cases and the fact that another case more in line with her skills had just begun. The other had just gotten engaged and in her excess of happy emotions was concerned that she might be pregnant, and asked to be excused because she had absolutely no desire to jeopardize her blissfully happy relationship with her brand new fiancé.
Special Agent Francesca Bowden was the third candidate to be offered the role and she accepted, viewing it, quite correctly, as a way to get noticed and perhaps a way onto the fast track to the higher profile branches of the Bureau, the bigger cases, the better perks, and all the bragging rights that came with them. She was average height, brown hair that was so light as to be blond, green eyes, and closer to the end of her twenties than she cared to admit. She sat down with the Assistant Special Agent in Charge (ASAC) Charles North of her branch to learn about the assignment she had accepted.
“He’s called the Caretaker,” the somewhat gruff, older man began, putting a file folder down in front of Francesca. “As of now we don’t have a name, a photo, an address, or a phone number, which is where you come in. You’re going to get us these details, or as many of them as you can, as quickly as you can.”
Francesca opened the file. “What sort of… caretaking… does he do?” she asked as she read the file’s preface. “Fetishists?”
He nodded. “Yes. All the particulars, or at least what we know, is in the file folder. Some weird stuff, sure, but nothing that at face value looks dangerous. Kinks, most of it. But, some folks we’re looking at with a much bigger case are starting to throw some mud and this guy could be dirty. We need to know one way or the other.”
Francesca put two and two together. “How deep do I need to go?”
“Deep enough to find out whether this guy is dangerous or not. The bigger case involves a pretty big and widespread child porn ring, and the brass are hot to bring it down sooner rather than later. They also want a clean sweep, no stone left unturned, that sort of thing. Look over the material, go check out some of those web addresses, starting putting together your way in. You’ve got about a week to pre-game yourself, and then it’s off to the races. You’ll be on special assignment with the local branch; they’re already putting together an apartment for you. You’ll report to the local ASAC and SAIC, but our branch is in on this big case, too, so I’ll be in the loop as well.”
Francesca closed the file and stood up. “Sounds pretty straightforward; I’ll get started right away.”
“Good hunting,” North said as he dismissed her.
Francesca left his office and returned to her desk with the file in hand. She read through the file completely before she even started with her computer, making some notes on a scratch pad, becoming more and more amazed as the minutes went by. Fetishists, indeed… clothiers, toys for various purposes, and diapers. It was the diapers that got Francesca the most, being something so out of left field for her that at first she didn’t know what to make of it. When she did at last turn to her computer to begin looking at the digital copies of the case file, Francesca started with the Internet forums, first. Simple and straightforward… but havens for people with a particular interest Francesca hadn’t been aware of until then. People who enjoy wearing and using diapers? Such a thing really existed? Francesca also discovered the support group element, noticing that some of the people frequenting the forums were people who legitimately needed diapers for one reason or another, and who liked to be among people who wouldn’t scorn them.
The first order of business was to look into the Caretaker himself, read his messages, get a feel for what sort of person he was. Fairly straightforward, no beating about the bush; it was largely direct and to the point. He seemed to concentrate the bulk of his posts in general discussions about the lifestyle—which included people who called themselves diaper lovers and adult babies—as well as to personal ads involving young women looking for particular services or activities. What Francesca found the most interesting was that he did not always suggest himself, but referred several to other providers depending on location and their availability. Some of his posts were also to be found in a section of the forums dealing with stories involving diapers and what they called age play, mostly criticism in a positive sense. Thus far, she had determined that he was an active member of this community, a person who commanded a certain respect, and who was not, strictly speaking, in it all for himself. She flagged some of the other providers of services the Caretaker had referenced for later review by herself and shifted gears.
The next part of her investigation was to look at some of the clothiers and specialty retailers. She first looked at the age play clothes and was amazed to find adult-sized children’s and toddler’s clothes, both for boys and girls—men and women, she reminded herself—in everything from sleepwear to Sunday’s best. Francesca had to admit that some of the outfits were cute, particularly the childish sundresses and some of the onesies had cute designs on them. Referencing some of the posts and threads the Caretaker had been involved with, she knew that some of his… clients? Friends? Had made purchases from these retailers for their own particular style of age play. Francesca minimized the webpage and leaned back in her chair for a moment to organize her thoughts. At face value, everything was on the level, although by Francesca’s standards, very much from left field. It was escapism, pure and simple, just like any other hobby or interest that separated someone from a daily life that was either too stressful or something they didn’t enjoy, and that was something that Francesca could understand.
That understanding didn’t prepare her for the shock that awaited her when she looked up the diapers preferred by and large by the forum community: they were almost literally baby diapers sized for adults, complete with the prints and the infantile styling. “You can’t be serious,” she murmured to herself as she looked at the various products. So amazed was she, that for a time she was immersed in a world of reviews and pictures, until finally she had to close the browser and lean back, separating herself from what she looked upon as a sort of madness. She looked at her notes, and then with the case file itself she put them in a locking drawer and stood up to take a break. Going to the break room yielded nothing more than a trip to the vending machine and some exchanged greetings with colleagues. Soon enough, Francesca was back at her desk looking at her notes, reading the case file, and considering her opening move. Clearly she would have to craft a personality that would be received by this crowd, but what sort of personality would do the trick? Turning back to her computer, Francesca began to look at whatever publically available profiles she could find to see what the average young woman was saying about herself. More notes were jotted down as she worked, and a general framework began to assemble itself as she progressed. The baseline was simple enough: an interest in diapers or baby elements was the usual starting point, with some sort of history of either bedwetting or being later than normal to master toilet training being reasonably common tacked on to establish a memory of needing diapers past toddler years. Another common thread was just a casual interest because it was ‘something different’ but it wasn’t dangerous. Others openly stated they wanted to go back to a time when they felt protected. Francesca wrote all this down, working each point in as elements to be considered for her forthcoming avatar.
Finally, Francesca felt as though she had reached an end to her initial research. Now, she had to work her way in. A sudden pang of embarrassment prompted her to decide it was better to wait until she was home on her personal computer to do that, and she went back to reading the summary of the case file to look for other loose ends she might explore in the meantime. Nothing popped out at her, so she went back to reviewing her notes to select the strongest or the most viable elements to use in crafting her forthcoming cover. She looked back through her own memories, and since she hadn’t had any issues with chronic bedwetting and couldn’t even recall having worn pull-ups, she decided not to include either in her cover. The casual interest angle was the most intriguing, because it would be the easiest to support. Something different was also a good one, because it fit easily with casual interest, and would also give her a viable exit strategy when the time came to abandon the cover and separate herself from the concluded case; she could claim that it wasn’t for her, and quietly vanish. Next came decisions on just how far she was willing to go with the whole project. Making those decisions were some of the most interesting, as well as difficult; the decisions that she made would determine how far she could go in a swift amount of time. She wrote it down as a series of questions in small handwriting so no one suddenly peeking over her shoulder would see what it was at first. First question: Am I willing to wear adult baby clothes? Francesca thought back to some Halloween costumes she had worn in high school and college. She answered that question with a yes. Second question: Am I willing to suck on a pacifier and drink from a bottle? Francesca thought of the more usual habits of chewing gum or eating suckers, as well as drinking from a water bottle while exercising. She answered that question with a yes, satisfying her conscience with each rationalization that preceded an answer.
The third question was the most daunting, as well as the most difficult to actually write out. She got as far as putting the pen to the paper before she stopped and set it down, sitting back in her chair and taking a sip from the drink she had gotten at the vending machine during her earlier break. Francesca had to tell herself it was for a good cause, that she was going to make a difference, that it was going to be worth it all in the end to do what she was going to do, that a lot of bad people were going to go to jail, and perhaps one decent person who was simply caught up in the mess for being in the wrong place at the wrong time would get to go free without having his reputation tarnished as these people who trafficked in this heinous material surely would. Put simply, Francesca Bowden thought of the children. Only then was she able to write out the third question. Am I willing to wear, and perhaps use, adult diapers? As she had done with the previous two questions, she answered, finally and with great reluctance, yes.
Chapter Two
When she got home that evening, Francesca couldn’t say that she was truly off the clock. After changing out of her business attire and into more comfortable clothes, she set about putting in motion the various elements of her cover identity. First, she created her profile on the Internet forum the Caretaker frequented most. Francesca was careful about what she put into her profile, making sure to come at the setup from the ‘casual interest’ angle that appealed to her so greatly. When she felt she was finished with the profile itself, she put up a picture of a stuffed animal she found on Google—because no way was she going to put an actual picture of herself out there—and accessed the websites for the specialty retailers that catered to the needs of the infantilist community. One of the childish sundresses was too cute to pass up, and she rationalized that she might actually wear it out and about when the case was closed. For good measure, Francesca added a cute diaper shirt with a snap crotch (which she thought should just be called an adult onesie on the webpage) to go with it and finalized that order.
The next order of business, and the most embarrassing, was diapers. She selected the brand that most preferred, looked at the styles, and decided to get some variety. Fortunately, there was more than one infantile style, so she selected the ones she liked best and ordered a fair amount of each, rationalizing that she would need to have a supply and experience with the products to better sell her cover. Some things could be faked and gotten away with, other things could not, and Francesca did not envision herself needing to grin and fake her way to a higher pay grade. Besides, it wasn’t like anyone was going to be seeing her with the diapers on. She wasn’t even sure she could bring herself to wear them, but she knew that when push came to shove, she’d do what she had to in order to get the job done. Well, within reason, at least.
After she had bought her diapers (and selected expedited shipping so she wouldn’t have to loiter around for delivery) she went back to the forum and browsed profiles and posts to find a way into the community. Francesca paid special attention to how the active female population posted and responded, trying to determine a baseline for her actions so she wouldn’t stand out. It came to the point where she threw up her hands in disgust at how hard she was reading into everything, so much so that she closed all the browsers and went to do chores to clear her head. It was only after she came back from doing her laundry that she was able to sit back down with what she felt was a clear enough head to resume. It was only after Francesca had been perusing the forum posts that she hit on an idea and opened the Caretaker file she had brought home from the Bureau. The file had listings of the women who had visited his House and they all had come from the same geographic area (which was why she was going to the place she was going to begin with) so Francesca looked for the profiles of those women on the forum. She found one, read a great deal of her posts and viewed her published photos to get a feel for her as a person, and then opened a window to send her a private message.
That was when she paused. How would she go about this opening? The easiest answer was to approach her in a friendly manner, try to insinuate herself into her good graces and then into the Caretaker’s House. Francesca started typing, confident in her opening strategy.
“Hello! You have no idea who I am, but I’m new to this hobby… lifestyle… thing… and I want to make some good friends. I’m also transferring into the area for work, and so I’m being uprooted! I saw some of your posts on the forum and you seem like a really nice person. Anyway, message me back if you want to talk.”
Francesca sat back from her keyboard and considered her words. It was short, simple, and to the point. Francesca nodded in satisfaction and sent the message.
The next few days were extremely busy as Francesca busied herself with learning all the details about her part of the case and the case as a whole. She attended several meetings and briefings with her superiors as well as other agents and investigators who were taking part in the case, and the same message was stressed every time: failure is not an option, a clean sweep is the only reward. At one of the briefings she was directly queried by ASAC North: “Bowden, where are we at with your part?”
“I’ve made my opening pitch, and so far so good. Once I get situated on site I should be able to get face time with friends of the subject and go from there,” she responded.
“Any idea what your timetable is for that?” North went on.
“No sir, nothing concrete,” she said with a slight wince. “Two weeks minimum, probably as long as five to six.”
North heaved out a breath and looked at her squarely. “Are you serious?”
Francesca wanted to disappear: everyone in the room was staring at her, and some of them were heavy hitters in her branch of the Bureau as well as from other branches across the country. “Yes, sir. The people I’m dealing with aren’t like your run-of-the-mill street hood, where three days of work and some solid lying for a backstory gets you a meet-and-greet with the local kingpin. They are very insular, very protective of each other, and a lot of them have very high self-preservation instincts. If this guy is dirty and we want him, the timetable is weeks, not days.”
North was regarding her steadily. “You’re certain of this?” One of the agents from another branch looked at him expectantly.
“As certain as I can be, sir. Once I’m on the ground and rolling, I can get a better feel for the situation and update my projections. Two weeks is still the minimum I’m going with, however.”
At this point, the other agent interjected. “Actually, North, that could be a boon rather than a bust,” he said. “We’ve hit a couple of unexpected variables with an element of the investigation in Northern California. Agent Bowden’s comments about high self-preservation instincts are correct; these people, good or bad, don’t want their dirty laundry out in the sun. It could take us a few days to iron out those wrinkles, which should bring us right on track to close this case in one nationwide sweep in a month’s time provided all goes well.”
North was nodding. “Alright. Bowden, you’ve got some time to roll the dice, but remember: roll them quickly. Once you’re on the ground there, you need to be pushing for face time as quickly as you can. We need this guy pigeon-holed as soon as possible, because if we roll him up with the rest of them and he comes out clean, the whole case could get thrown out because some trumped-up lawyer with delusions of grandeur starts ranting about reasonable doubt.” North was plainly over-exaggerating—some of the evidence was so ironclad that there was no hope for a number of the traffickers—but even one slipping through the cracks to set up shop in some other dark corner was a terrible thought to contemplate.
The briefing ended and Francesca went back to her desk to continue working. She made it a point not to visit any of the infantilist websites at her workplace computer, instead focusing on other elements of the case and reading up on the assembled dossiers on some of the doomed child pornography traffickers. She read some of the copied transcripts of chat room and instant messenger conversations and found herself hoping that the Caretaker wasn’t as slimy as some of the people she was reading about. If he was, she wondered if she’d be able to keep a straight face around him or if she’d be having to constantly remind herself not to do something completely insane, like shoot him dead on the spot. The conversations she was reading were horrifying in their business-casual description of the content of some of the images and image caches, and thinly-veiled inquiries about preferences for other image sets. That set Francesca to thinking, so much so that she went to North’s office and knocked. When she was admitted, she began without preamble: “sir, where do we stand on the investigation into the direct abuse of children in this case?”
North was quiet for a few moments. “That is a delicate subject, Bowden. What got you onto it?”
“I was looking over some of the transcripts in this case to familiarize myself with the ugly underside of it, and it seems like whoever the ringleader is, they’ve got access to some kids and they’re… well… exploiting them.”
North nodded. “Yes, we’ve been looking into that… Bowden, I need you to be very clear on this. Your part of this case is to determine whether or not the Caretaker is in on this or not. We’ve got agents looking at the rest of this, from a lot of different angles.” He held up a hand to forestall a protest that Francesca almost considered offering. “You need to focus on the Caretaker. Leave the rest of this to the other agents and parts of the Bureau that are involved in it. You aren’t on that track, at least not yet. Confine yourself to the Caretaker, and if the time comes to send you after the other subjects, I’ll let you know. Distracting yourself will only cause you to drop the ball somewhere else.”
Francesca took a breath and nodded. “Yes, sir.” She turned to leave.
“Good job catching on to that possibility, though, Bowden. We picked up on that the first day we started looking at these transcripts as well.”
“Thank you, sir,” she said as she left his office and returned to her desk.
The rest of the day passed without incident and when Francesca returned home she found that she had several boxes waiting for her. She got them all into her apartment and considered them ruefully. One of the boxes held items she could feel comfortable owning. The other boxes held items she did not feel at all comfortable owning, but she resigned herself to the fact that she was now owner of them regardless, at least for the time being. Francesca made it a point to open the box with the clothes first, and found herself exulting over the sundress; it was even better in person than it had been on the Internet. The onesie was a plain white with lace on the ends of the sleeves, just like she had worn when she had been a toddler. She couldn’t help but find it cute as well. After she had cleared away the wrappings for the clothes, she couldn’t help but try them on straight away. She disrobed from her work attire—something she did at this point in her day, usually—and put on the onesie, first. She snapped the crotch, approving of the fact that in a pinch she could use it as a somewhat loose leotard if the need for such a garment arose. Next she put on the sundress and surveyed herself in her mirror, approving of what she saw. The sundress was yellow with a floral pattern stitched into the breast. Francesca pronounced herself adorable, even without the lace socks and bright Mary Jane shoes that would have completed the outfit to a tee.
It was with this good humor that she turned to the boxes of Bambino diapers, suddenly curious to see what they looked like in actuality as opposed to photographs on the Internet. She was once again surprised by the size of the diapers as well as the details of the childish prints on the tape panel. She had taken one out of the package to inspect it, unfolding it and looking it over with a mixture of excitement and dismay. Finally, she resolved herself to the situation and decided to get it over with; she spread the diaper out on her bed and prepared to change into it by first unsnapping the crotch of her onesie and removing her underwear. She then hiked up the skirt of her sundress and the flaps of the onesie and sat down on the waiting diaper. The padding was, quite naturally, soft on her skin, but that didn’t mean she liked what she was feeling. It took several moments to make sure that all of her clothing was well clear of the back of the diaper before she lay back and got it better positioned underneath her waist. At length she had it where she felt it ought to be, and sat up to grip the front of it; she lay back again, pulling it up between her legs as she did, and then set about taping it closed. It required several tries to get it comfortably snug, and then she sat up to review her handiwork with a forlorn sigh. “The things I do for promotion,” she muttered, not ready to admit to herself that working this case would lead to anything more than a nice thank-you from the big shots.
With her first diaper in decades attached about her waist, Francesca closed up the flaps of her onesie around it and let her dress fall back into place as she stood. She could hear a muffled crinkle and crackle coming from her midsection, and it made her blush to think that she was wearing a diaper she didn’t need, but she soldiered on regardless. She went to her computer and started browsing the forum, trying unsuccessfully to distract herself from what she was wearing. Happily, she was distracted quickly enough by messages in her inbox from the woman she had singled out to contact: they had been exchanging messages frequently over the last few days, and this time Francesca found that her new friend was online and opened an instant message window.
“Hey! How are you?” she typed.
“Hi there! I’m good, you?” came the response, attached to a small photo of a teddy bear.
“Doing great. Busy day at work, glad to be off,” she typed, adding a smiley face.
“I hear that! How goes the process for your transfer?”
“It’s going great! I should be getting set to move over this weekend and then start Monday or sometime later next week,” Francesca explained, referring to her cover story for her hands-on part of the investigation.
“Yay! That’s so cool! I’m really looking forward to meeting you!”
Francesca couldn’t help but smile at what she took to be the other woman’s sincerity. “Me too! It will be so great going in knowing I have at least one friend, and even more fun knowing that she shares my secret!” Francesca added, baiting the hook for some diaper talk.
“Yeah, it’s more fun that way! Some gals who are here already are into it as well, and I can introduce you to them as we go along. Not everyone we talk to is smart about it; they don’t get that it’s just something for fun and maybe sometimes a little more. Others get way too involved and it can get awkward.”
“Oh?” Francesca asked. “How do you mean?”
“Well, some of the guys… they think that they should either get to be in charge of the diapers and diaper changes or that they get to be completely babied. There really isn’t much of a middle ground, and it’s a major turn-off.”
That was something that Francesca had been wondering about; a lot of the posts by guys she’d read did indeed seem to confirm that sentiment, whether or not they were joking. “Wow, that’s not cool.”
“You got that right. There is this one guy who gets it, though, and he’s super-cool. After you get settled in maybe you can meet him as well.”
Francesca almost cheered. Barely two days after baiting her hook and she was already close to getting a bulls-eye on the target. She decided to play it cool, though. “I don’t know about that, yet… I mean, some of the guys I’ve seen on the forum and other places get way too overboard.” Here Francesca paused, considering the next part of her play very carefully. “I mean, getting together with other women? Yeah, that’s cool; you get where I’m coming from and you know where the lines are drawn. A guy? I mean, is he safe?”
“Oh, sweetie, I totally understand! I was really concerned myself, at first, but then I met him and he had me over with some other mutual friend and it was totally safe. He’s only as hands-on as you want him to be; he has very strict rules and he only goes as far as you’re comfortable with. Some of my friends really like him, too, and we all agree he’s a great guy. He’s also really into the hobby, at least as far as giving us girls a place to unwind and relax. It’s almost like a day spa, but not!”
“Wow, that’s really cool! A diaper day spa, huh? Is there a masseuse and a hot tub?” Francesca asked, playing along.
“Ha! No, there’s no masseuse, but he’s got a room with a couple of adult-sized cribs and a huge changing table, LOTS of stuffed animals, some clothes, diapers, of course, bottles, sippy cups, you name it.”
Francesca was surprised to be reading all of this. “Wow, this guy has quite the setup.” Here, natural curiosity got the better of her. “So like, what does he do? Change your diapers and put you down for a nap?”
“Pretty much! But, that’s only if you want him to; some girls like to be in charge of their own diapers, others like to let him take care of them. You might like him, you might not, though. Some girls who’ve come through didn’t much care for it, and it was cool. Just don’t be a bitch and it’s all good!”
“I can promise you here and now that I won’t be,” she said with a smiley face. “Speaking of diapers,” Francesca said to change the subject for a bit, “My order came in, today, and I can’t believe how big they are!”
“I know, aren’t they great? After a long day I like to unwind with my favorite bear, a diaper, and a bottle while I watch TV or something.”
“Nice! I also got this really cute sundress and onesie in, as well… and I’m wearing all three! Super comfortable!” she added for good measure, because while she hadn’t yet reconciled herself to her diapers, she had reconciled herself to the costume she was wearing.
“Yay! That’s so cool! I wish I could see you right now; I bet you’re adorable!”
Francesca couldn’t help but be flattered and embarrassed. “Thanks! Soon enough, though!”
Soon enough, indeed. Francesca talked to her new friend for a while longer before logging off to see about her dinner. The rest of the week was taken up with preparing for her extended on-site assignment; there was a whole host of things to get done, from seeing about her mail, taking care of bills and rent for the time she’d be gone, packing, and getting everything taken care of at the Bureau for while she would be absent from there, as well. Finally, however, the time had come and she set off for her temporary new home, her car loaded with luggage and boxes.
Re: The Caretaker’s House
Chapter Three
Setting up shop had proved a swift and simple affair: by thinking of it as no more intricate than a stay in a hotel room, Francesca had established her wardrobe and other belongings in her temporary apartment with something like efficiency, and immediately contacted the local FBI branch to report her arrival and readiness. At once she was summoned to a briefing that evening at the local headquarters, where the latest developments of the investigation were handed around. The agent who had spoken up about the issues needing resolution earlier in the week at her home office was the man conducting the briefing: she noticed that he was a senior agent; his name was Jeff Thompson.
“As you know, Agent Francesca Bowden is on loan to us from a neighboring branch to assist with some elements of the local investigation. She reports to me and likewise to her own ASAC and SAIC, so anyone trying to borrow her for your own needs better be smart about who you ask. Right now, this investigation is priority one for the Bureau, and Agent Bowden is helping to tie off a loose end so that we can wrap this up. Agent Bowden, ASAC North briefed me in on your most recent activities; would you be so kind as to elaborate on your aspect of this investigation?”
All eyes turned to Francesca before she began. “Certainly, sir. Several months ago, we got some hits about a person hosting private events for a specific group of fetishists at what we assume to be his home; nothing was flagged as obviously illegal or otherwise needing our attention so it was simply catalogued and left at that. However, over the last few months, a number of accusations about involvement in prostitution, illicit substances, abuse, and other crimes have been thrown into the mix, the biggest being the one that flagged it for this investigation, that there is a remote possibility of involvement with the child porn ring, perhaps going so far as to being a provider, a relay, or a source. My task is to get a look into this place, find out what the score is, and then we go from there.”
Thompson nodded. “How close are you to getting into this place?”
“Perhaps a week; I’ve established my cover as an accountant with actuarial responsibilities having been transferred in from out-of-state, made contact with a close associate of the subject, and to keep things on the level, I’ve tentatively scheduled a face-to-face meeting with her for tomorrow night, conveniently a Saturday.”
“What is your current assessment of this contact? Viable witness should we need to subpoena her?” Another agent asked.
Francesca turned to address him directly. “All initial signs are that she’s harmless. I’ve put together an initial dossier on her, but until I put a face with her name, it’s pretty blank. She’s got a bachelor’s degree, she works, lives a quiet life aside from the fetish, and routinely participates in activities going on at this House. Nothing yet on boyfriends, criminal history, criminal associates, but she is a direct link to the Caretaker, who is the host of the events at the House. She’s promised to introduce me to him, soon.”
“Excellent. Push for that introduction as soon as you can. People, our timetable is supposed to be days, not weeks. You know why we have the delay, but that’s no excuse: we need to wrap this up. We’ve been seeing some signs of further ugliness that needs to get cleaned up, and soon. Lives could be at risk, particularly children’s lives. Bowden, you’re on point with your part of the investigation, but I want you churning out results as quickly as you can. We need this guy in the net, or safely out of it as soon as possible.”
When Francesca returned to the apartment, she thought about changing into her ‘baby clothes’ as she called them, but decided against it. Instead, she took care of the last few details to make the place a little more home-like, set up her computer, and went through the process of checking emails. Her friend logged on and immediately messaged her.
“Hey! Have you gotten into town, yet?” she asked.
Francesca responded with, “yep, got in a little while ago!”
The response was enthusiastic. “YAY!!! OMG I am so excited!!! I can’t wait to meet you! Can we please get together tonight instead of tomorrow? I really want to meet you!”
Francesca hesitated. She was immediately reminded of Agent Thompson’s order to expedite. “Sure!” she responded. “But, I don’t know where anything is.”
“Oh, leave that to me!” she responded, and rattled off the name and address of what she claimed was an excellent little pub. She also gave Francesca her phone number, and her real name, which was Annie.
“What time did you want to get together?” Francesca asked.
“Um, NOW! I can be there in like twenty minutes.”
Francesca put the address into her phone’s map. “I can be there in about the same,” she responded after looking at the distance and time estimate.
“Cool! See you there!” Annie responded, and then logged off. Francesca did the same. After her briefing, she had changed into jeans and a hoodie, and after throwing on her gym shoes, concealing her badge and her service 9mm pistol in her bag, she headed out.
Over the course of their brief acquaintance, Francesca and Annie had exchanged enough personal information to feel like they knew one another well enough to meet in person, but Francesca was taking no chances at being ambushed by some crazy person. Plus, as a federal agent she was automatically entitled to carry a concealed weapon anywhere in the United States, and even aboard aircraft within reason. Francesca drove at a casual pace, making sure to look for important intersections, highways, byways, and other details that would make her stay in the town more comfortable; it was also good to know where things were. Finding the bar in question wasn’t difficult, and it was blessedly near to a parking lot, so Francesca was not obliged to leave her car on the street. Before she walked in, however, she surveyed the area, looking around like a tourist for a few moments, and then she finally walked into the establishment. Among the information they had exchanged, Annie and Francesca had exchanged photographs of each other, so they knew who they were looking for. Francesca was looking for a dark-haired woman, mid-twenties, cheerful expression. She wasn’t hard to find, especially since Annie noticed her first. Francesca found her way suddenly barred when a slightly shorter but obnoxiously cheerful young woman barred her way. It took her a moment to recognize Annie, but the smaller woman’s good cheer and crushing hug made that unnecessary. “Oh, I am so glad to meet you!” she gushed, looking Francesca up and down. “Welcome, welcome, welcome, now let’s go get a drink!” she cried as she took Francesca by the hand and dragged her unrelenting to the bar where she at once called for two beers; only after each had shown their identification and the beers had been delivered and paid for did Francesca manage to stop her head from spinning.
“Thank you,” she replied, looking at Annie in turn. Annie was shorter than her by a couple of inches, but thin and trim and absolutely adorable. With light brown hair and grey eyes that perpetually smiled, she made a good contrast to Francesca’s somewhat taller and more athletic frame. However, before she could get another word in, the assault began. Annie was relentless, asking questions, insisting upon taking her on a tour of the city, probing about where she lived.
“Ooh, that’s a nice area! I lived there for a while myself after I got out of college, but when I got my job I moved into more posh digs,” she said with an air of pride. “Good starter place, though; if you’re here long enough, you should definitely upgrade! There are some really sweet pads in my complex, and there’s another up the highway that’s supposed to be even nicer.”
“Really? I just went for a reasonable place that would be good enough to sleep in; I didn’t really shop around,” Francesca admitted, which was close enough to the truth.
“Neither did I; I went there first on the recommendation of a friend. I enjoyed it, but when a better place popped on my radar I went for it. It’s a little more… private, sort of. Not sure how to explain it, but it just feels more home-like,” Annie explained.
Francesca nodded. “You know, I just realized; we’ve been getting to know each other all this week and I never asked what you do for a living,” she said.
Annie giggled. “Oh my, that completely slipped my mind! I work in communications and public affairs. I help draft memos and press releases and then schedule meetings for all of my big shots with other big shots so they can all play golf and drink scotch or whatever,” she said dismissively. “Everything but the scheduling meetings for hobnobbing is fun, but hey, that hobnobbing makes sure the bills get paid, so I do it.”
“I hear that,” Francesca agreed. “Part of the reason I’m here is to look over the books for the local branch of my company and make sure they’re in compliance, as well as smartening up their process. An internal audit revealed some small issues and they sent me to clean it up. Could mean a promotion, so hey, why not?”
“You go where the money leads,” Annie chimed in.
“Amen,” Francesca said and touched her beer bottle to Annie’s and they drank. The conversation turned from there to girl talk: were you seeing anyone, no, why not, you’re beautiful, thanks, so are you, and on from there. Annie didn’t bring up the subject of diapers or fetish-related things at all, but after a long stretch of conversation and a couple more beers for each woman, she heaved a sigh and was quiet for a few moments.
“You know, I was so worried about you turning out to be some sort of weirdo that I almost didn’t come here at the last minute,” Annie admitted suddenly.
“Um, thanks?” Francesca responded. “What do you mean?”
Annie regarded Francesca steadily for a few moments, looking somewhat embarrassed. “Well… I don’t know. It’s like… this is such a big deal for me to keep secret, but you just seem so… accepting… for a newbie. I mean, you said it yourself you stumbled on this by chance and that you only this week got your first taste of it all, but for me? I’ve had this sort of… need, I guess, my whole life, I think. I mean, don’t get me wrong, because I developed normally physically, didn’t have any defects or,” she dropped her vocal register to say, “bedwetting,” and then resumed a normal pitch with, “but, I just… loved the safety.” Francesca stayed quiet and let Annie talk; she covered gaps in the conversation where she could have interjected with sips of her beer. “I discovered this back in college, and I’ve been up to my waist in it ever since. A lot of folks get off on it, which is fine, but I don’t get off on it like that; I am so much more comfortable just lying around with my teddy bear and a pacifier or bottle than I am playing with toys or dolls or dressing up or things like that. Most people I talk to are working some angle: they either want to be putting me in diapers, they want me to be putting them in diapers, or they want to play some weird sex games and I’m like, ‘seriously? Get lost!’ I don’t need people like that harshing my vibe when all I want to do is chill. You don’t act like that, and I’m really glad. You just want to be my friend.” Here Annie paused for a drink. “Though I want to see this sundress you bought: if it’s as cute as you say it is, I might have to get one for myself.”
During Annie’s entire speech Francesca felt increasingly guilty, because she was working an angle on Annie, and she felt very uncomfortable being in a position of having to betray the burgeoning trust with her new friend to satisfy the needs of the FBI. “It’s adorable,” she confirmed. “The onesie I bought is, too… it has those girlish little lace sleeves that I just couldn’t pass on when I saw it. It completes the outfit very nicely.”
Annie smiled her innocent smile. “Oh, and I bet you’re just darling in it, too. Mostly I just wear a comfortable shirt or pajamas… though in the winter time I do have a really comfortable sleeper. That’s about as babyish as I get, aside from the pacifier.”
“Hey, if it works, it works, right?”
“You got it, sister,” Annie agreed and they toasted beers again before drinking. Francesca excused herself at that point to use the ladies’ room, and when she came back she saw that Annie was standing to leave. “Come on, I’ll go show you some of the sights; might as well take you on a tour now since we’re together a day ahead of time.”
“Sounds great,” Francesca said cheerfully, and they walked out together. Francesca insisted on walking, and she kept up a steady stream of conversation, talking about this bar or that restaurant, that store or that club. After she had given a fairly succinct account of their surroundings, she turned her attention back to Francesca.
“So, I never really asked about this during the week, but what do you like about diapers? I know you’ve experimented with wearing them and all, but what makes you excited about them?” It was a very pointed question, and Francesca was silenced by it for several moments.
“Honestly, it was just so far out of left field that I couldn’t help but look into it. Then I tried on diapers… and I have to admit, they aren’t bad. In fact, the ones I bought, the Bambinos, are really pretty good. But, before all that I was looking at the forum and some other websites… it’s like you said earlier. It’s safety, and it reminds me of home.” That part, at least, was true; Francesca did view her time in diapers as evocative of her childhood, when her parents were the fountains of all knowledge and safety. “But, I haven’t explored it nearly as deeply as you have, so who knows? Maybe it’ll be a kink for me after all.”
Annie laughed. “That’s cool. One of the girls I know really gets into the more sexual aspects of wearing diapers, and it’s her thing, but she’s cool with how I do things my way. Plus, when that time of the month rolls around diapers are just so much better. You’ll find that out eventually and you can judge for yourself. Me, I don’t mind relaxing in a wet diaper. It’s just this side of naughty and I can pretend I’m a lazy brat all over again before I have to behave like a responsible adult.”
This time Francesca giggled. “I’ll have to try that.”
“Get a pacifier, too. Maybe a bottle. There’s a company that sells a really good adult-sized pacifier and it really is obnoxiously soothing,” Annie suggested.
“Really? Which one?” she asked.
Annie opened her mouth to answer and then paused. “I forget the name of it, stupidly enough, but there’s a link on the forum. I’ll message you about it or tell you about it tomorrow.”
“Sounds good,” Francesca mused. “I should go to the toy store and get a big stuffed animal to cuddle with. All of mine from childhood are packed away back home.”
“Good idea,” Annie agreed. “Besides, is there really such a thing as too many stuffed animals? I bought a couple of the Angry Birds plushies and sometimes I throw them at things just to make myself laugh.”
Francesca laughed aloud. “I have to know where you got them! Oh man, if I could throw those at people on a daily basis I would be so happy.”
Annie laughed as well. “Same here. Boss pops up, and pow! Right in the face with a big red bird!”
“I like that black bird the most. It makes the most interesting noise before it blows everything up.”
“Like hunting bunny rabbits with a hydrogen bomb,” Annie snickered.
Francesca was confused. “What?”
Annie giggled. “It’s this funny Internet joke: I’ll email it to you.” By this point their walk had brought them around to the bar they had started at and Annie sighed. “I should probably get home; I need to change this diaper before it leaks on me.”
Francesca was surprised. “You’re wearing one now?”
Annie merely looked at her, and then realized what she admitted; she looked suddenly embarrassed. “Yes,” she answered in a small voice, sounding abashed.
Francesca smothered her initial question of ‘why on earth would you do such a thing?’ and replaced it instead with, “what kind are you wearing?” in a more general tone. Annie told her and showed her the waistband; Francesca was shocked to see another person wearing diapers in real life that she blurted out, “how wet is it?”
Annie was scarlet at this point. She stepped between a couple of parked cars and made to undo her pants. Before Francesca could protest, Annie forestalled her with, “now you have to wear a diaper tomorrow, okay?” and then slipped her pants down to show her a very wet diaper before hurriedly covering it back up and looking around to see if anyone had noticed.
“Awe, you’re so cute!” Francesca gushed, being completely truthful; Annie did look adorable in her diaper. However, Francesca was shocked to see it on display. “I promise, tomorrow I’ll wear one.”
“Bring a change, too, just in case; I almost always have a spare in my car, because one time I forgot and I had a little too much fun and… yeah, it did not end well.”
Francesca smiled. “Duly noted,” she said.
Annie beamed up at her and embraced her once again. “Oh, Frankie I can’t tell you how happy I am to have met you, both online and in person!” she said as she stepped back. “I already feel like you’re my best friend.”
Such a statement couldn’t but be awkward, but Francesca took it in stride. “Thank you so much for making me feel so welcome here; I’m so glad I reached out to you, as well! Can’t have too many friends, right?”
Annie’s smile got even bigger. They said goodnight and parted company, each woman returning to her respective apartments, Annie doing so with great good cheer and Francesca in deep thought. No mistake, she really did like Annie, and thought her to be a dear, dear friend already. How she was going to break it to her that she was an FBI agent using her to get to the Caretaker and not smash her tender little heart to pieces was something that not even Francesca dared to think of, but it was a dark consideration in the back of her mind. She pushed those thoughts aside and started adding material to the files she had on the Caretaker and Annie, putting in Annie’s name and photo for a background check, which was progress that would be noted at the two headquarters she was reporting to, and would make the behind-the-scenes guys happy to see. The Caretaker puzzle was one step closer to being solved. Before Francesca bedded down for the night, she made it a point to change into a diaper—which now had a drawer all to themselves—and look into ordering a pacifier for herself. She knew she could find a big stuffed animal for herself at the local toy store without a problem.
Re: The Caretaker’s House
Solid, quality work! Its all very logical so far and I don’t even have to stretch my imagination to wrap my head around it. Very good! When might we see more?
Re: The Caretaker’s House
Wonderful story you’ve written I’d love to read more.
Re: The Caretaker’s House
i am enjoying this well written story. Keep it coming as the muse strikes
Re: The Caretaker’s House
Its logical and has kept my interest. Looking forward to more.
Re: The Caretaker’s House - Updated 8/11/12
Chapter Four
Morning, which was announced with deliberate violence by Francesca’s cell phone alarm and the young woman sat up grumbling and muttered to herself before she swung her legs out of bed and stood. After a luxuriating stretch that popped numerous muscles and tendons deliciously, she stepped into the bathroom to begin her morning routine, which was immediately interrupted by the sudden reminder of her choice of undergarments. “Oh, yeah,” she murmured, and instead walked out of the bathroom and into the kitchen to deal with something resembling a reasonable breakfast. The temptation to remove her diaper and go about her business in the usual way was strong, but she refrained on the logic that she would have to get used to such activities for the remainder of her time on the case. Having decided on a glass of orange juice to start with, Francesca walked to her bathroom again and looked at herself in the mirror: she beheld a twenty-something woman in a t-shirt that didn’t reach to her waist and a big, fluffy diaper with a childish print on the front that was partially obscured by the four tapes used to close the disposable garment. She pulled up her shirt so she could see the entire diaper and looked at herself from various angles. Francesca found herself to look both silly and cute, but more silly than cute. Annie looked adorable in her printed diaper, but Francesca found it hard to feel the same way about herself.
Distracting herself from a mounting need, Francesca went back into the kitchen and sat down to breakfast; she had decided on cereal to go with her orange juice. It was simple, easy, to the point… and provided her with a distraction for what she was alternately needing and not wanting to do. Finally, she could take it no longer, and she stood away from her table to squat down in the middle of the floor. She breathed out, closed her eyes, and relaxed. The first dribble shocked her and she clamped down out of instinct; by conscious effort she was able to release herself to let it continue. Shortly, her diaper heated and swelled as she wet it. It was an interesting feeling, for someone who had never done such a thing consciously before, and when it was over, Francesca couldn’t resist poking and prodding at her diaper to inspect its new state. It was discolored from the wetness and with a yellow tint that almost made her diaper ugly; a stark contrast from the clean white it had begun with. She sighed, made a face, and sat back down with a grim and somewhat disgusted expression and finished her breakfast.
Once done and having dealt with her dishes, Francesca returned to her bathroom to inspect her sodden state. She sighed yet again. “Just like a big baby,” she murmured as she surveyed her wet diaper. At least the quality of her diaper meant she didn’t feel wet, even though she clearly was. “This better be worth it.” Having elected to remain in her diaper for the rest of the morning, Francesca set about doing some chores and organizing things more to her liking in her temporary abode. She also sat down to her computer, accessed a secured network link-up and emailed a contact report to her local and home offices detailing the progress she had made. She also sent in information on Annie as well as a photo she had taken with her friend using her cell phone so that a more thorough background check could be performed. Francesca felt a little guilty about doing it, but it had to be done. Francesca was confident, however, that the background check on Annie would come back clean and she wouldn’t be troubled; in order to spare Annie further complications, her affiliation with the overall case wouldn’t be notified to her file unless she was criminally complicit. Even the FBI had a conscience… within reason. Once her report was filed, she finished unpacking what she had yet to unpack, turned on some music while she organized and arranged, and did her very best to forget she was wearing a diaper. For a little while, at least, it worked brilliantly.
As time went on, however, Francesca found herself again needing relief, and again she had to withstand the temptation to remove her diaper and conduct herself normally. After a few minutes of internal struggle while she doggedly continued about her chosen tasks, she again released into her diaper, re-warming its contents and causing it to expand a little further. She wrinkled her nose at the slight smell of urine that it was releasing, dissatisfied with the fact that the diaper was not perfect at obscuring odors. Well, she consoled herself, it could have been worse. She could be leaking. Finally, however, after a while she just wasn’t able to tolerate it any further, and she went to the bathroom to remove the diaper. Just as she was getting her fingers on the tapes, she wondered if she should change into another diaper… and realized that was actually a good idea. What better way to familiarize yourself with a subject’s lifestyle than to engage in that lifestyle yourself? It was a scary thought, but Francesca was on a timetable. Besides, all those diapers weren’t going to wear themselves, now were they? She went back to her bedroom and collected a clean diaper from her dresser and then returned to the bathroom to change into it, irrationally regretting accepting this assignment as she did. She set the new diaper down on the edge of the sink and opened the tapes of the one she was wearing, blithely letting it fall to the floor with a wet plop. She rolled it into itself and dropped it in her bathroom wastebasket and was in the process of unfolding the new diaper when she realized she had nothing to clean herself with. Francesca groaned and made a mental note to pick up some wipes of one sort or another when she was out and about. For the time being, she settled on using one of the moist wipes she normally used for feminine cleansing, which didn’t feel adequate to the job, but it did enough to at least let her feel somewhat clean. After that was done with, she sat down on the now-open new diaper and fastened it about her waist, and then washed her hands before returning to her chores, her mood considerably less cheerful than it had been scarcely ten minutes previously. She was inordinately thankful that no one was around to see her in her present state.
Francesca’s chores took some little time more, and after they were done with to her satisfaction, she ran errands, putting loose cargo pants on over her diaper. She stopped at the grocery store and the toy store, at each location picking up things she needed for her long stay, chief among them a large, stuffed dolphin that she thought was far too adorable to be left to some other, perhaps more deserving child. She returned to her apartment shortly after making that purchase, enjoyed a light lunch, wet her second diaper with less difficulty than her first, and this time did not choose to linger in it quite so long, as she was engaged to meet with Annie sooner rather than later. Instead, she took a shower and picked out clothes for the rest of the day, leaning towards comfortable and loose about the midsection to better obscure her diaper. Francesca still found it hard to believe that she was about to go out and about in a diaper with someone who knew she was wearing it in the first place, but then decided that since she had gone out so recently and with a purpose while diapered, going out with Annie, who would likewise be diapered, would be just as easy; however, since Francesca was barely a week into the alternative lifestyle that Annie had been enjoying for years, Francesca was having a more difficult time reconciling herself to the situation. It was just one more thing she would have to power through in order to accomplish her objectives and either prove the Caretaker guilty with damning evidence or—as many suspected would be the case—formally clear him of wrongdoing. A local judge was already on tap to sign the search warrant authorizing the FBI to enter his home once Francesca determined its location and ensured that it would be vacant for enough time for the FBI to conduct a very quiet, but very thorough search.
While Francesca had been out running errands, among the things she had picked up aside from wipes was a small container of baby powder. When she finished drying off from her shower and set about putting on a clean diaper, she sprinkled some into it first before situating herself on it and taping it up. The powder was cool to the touch on her skin and felt quite comfortable, and of course, the smell was pleasant. She wondered if it would help with the diaper’s odor control. Only one way to find out, she thought as she finished getting ready. Francesca decided on a more casual approach to her attire and hairstyle for the evening; she wore her long hair down but tied back from the top, the same loose-fitting cargo pants from earlier, a white tank top covered by a short sleeve shirt and topped off with a stylish zip-up hoodie. Normally, Francesca would have worn clothes that would have shown off her figure to great advantage—or at least advantage enough—but with a diaper in place of panties, she had no interest in having her figure show off a padded behind. She felt that her current attire skated the line between functional and fashionable enough to be excusable. Once she had finished dressing, she took another diaper out of its drawer to act as her spare for the evening and thought about trying to fit it into her purse. Francesca frowned when she realized with finality that her idea would simply not work at all; the diaper was far too big to fit in there completely. She thought about switching to a different, roomier bag to carry along, but decided that she would take Annie’s idea instead and simply leave it in her car. Satisfied that she was ready, she headed out to the appointed meeting place.
When she arrived at the quaint little café that had been chosen as the meeting place, she checked to make sure her diaper was completely covered either by pants or by shirts, because one thing that Francesca did not want was to be noticed wearing it. She already felt self-conscious enough, but she chided herself that since she’d so brazenly gone out earlier wearing one, this should be child’s play. Yet, this time it wasn’t. Someone knew she was diapered. Sure, the other person would most likely be diapered as well, but Francesca still felt vulnerable. It was a strange dichotomy, and not one that Francesca felt comfortable dealing with. She had butterflies in her stomach unlike anything she had ever felt before, and it was making it hard for her to think straight. Finally, she settled on just biting the bullet and getting it over with; after making sure that her spare diaper was securely tucked away under her seat, she left her car and went into the restaurant. She asked for a table for two, was shown to a table by a courteous waiter, asked for two glasses of water and settled down to wait in the method preferred by millions of people across the planet: she took out her cell phone and fiddled with it, checking emails, looking at Facebook, and whatever else came to mind while she ate up the minutes between her arrival and Annie’s.
Annie’s arrival was fairly soon after Francesca’s, and if it hadn’t been for Francesca looking up right at that moment to see if Annie had arrived that she would have been surprised to see her. They embraced warmly and greeted each other cheerfully, like old friends who hadn’t seen each other in a while. Annie thanked Francesca for the water, sipped some, and made herself comfortable. “So, how was your first night in town?” she asked after a moment.
“Pretty good, actually. Before I came out I arranged for my bed to be set up, so all I needed to do was put sheets on it and I was golden. It made the night a whole lot more comfortable, I can tell you,” she replied.
“Ooh, smart cookie,” Annie said. “I wish I’d thought of that; the first week I was here I slept on an air mattress with a sleeping bag before I got my bed.”
“I thought about doing that, too, but was like, ‘you know, I’m going to be here for a while, might as well get it out of the way now and be done with it,’” Francesca explained.
“Yeah, it’s always better to be on a real for real bed,” Annie agreed. “But anyway, about tonight. I’m going to take you around, show you some of the sights here in town, maybe we’ll hit a nice bar and get smashed, and wake up wondering what we did and why there’s a pink flamingo lawn ornament in the toilet,” she giggled.
Francesca arched an eyebrow. “That sounds… like one hell of a night. Something you experienced?”
Annie nodded, not in the least shameful. “Yep, end of college. Some friends and I went out and celebrated… well, very hard. I still only remember about half the night, but I remember waking up on the kitchen table with my boyfriend at the time sprawled out beneath the table, some of my other friends scattered around the floor and other furniture, and the flamingo standing tall in the toilet. There were other obnoxious objects scattered around that came from who knows where, but it was the flamingo that took the cake. My faced was also painted up like some sort of clown cat, and I have this really cool picture of me looking atrocious, face painted and hung over like you would not believe, standing by the toilet with my arm around the flamingo. It actually ended up becoming some sort of mascot, and when we all parted ways after graduation, we held a raffle to see who got it, and the winner had to buy everyone else an identical lawn ornament. I still have mine in my closet, but no lawn to put it in,” Annie finished.
Francesca had been listening and laughing along all the while. “That sounds like quite the night. Sadly, I don’t have any stories to top that one,” she admitted.
“Oh come on, Frankie, you’ve got to have at least one good story!” Annie prompted.
Francesca smiled at Annie’s nickname for her. “Well, the closest I have goes like this: my junior year of college I lived in an apartment with some girlfriends, and we routinely invited our floor mates over to hang out and party and what not, but this one particular night we decided to take the party outside. So, we set up a grill in the street and a couple of coolers full of beer, someone put up a stereo and cranked the music. It started out like… maybe twenty of us? Within half an hour it was over a hundred, beer was coming in by the truckload it felt like, and soon it was more like a rave than a civilized street party. Cars couldn’t get through because some quick-thinking guys had parked their cars in such a way as to block our part of the street and something like two hundred people were there by the time the second batch of burgers was finished. Naturally, a lot of people were very quickly getting drunk and there were shenanigans involving some neighbors’ property… I think a bunch of guys actually killed one of the bushes by consistently pissing on it, but I can’t confirm that. Anyway, things started to get really out of control, I was tipsy, and someone suggested that a bunch of girls get up on the back of this one guy’s pickup truck and dance. I thought it was a great idea at the time, so like six of us got up there and started contorting ourselves, or something that otherwise resembled dancing, but some of the other girls had drunk far more than I had, so… their clothes started coming off. Suddenly, the rest of girls thought this was a great idea, so I’m in the middle of a striptease. Naturally, you would think that I would have the good sense not to join in, but while I wasn’t drunk, I wasn’t sober, either. But, I got really into it and started going all porno about it, making a real show out of taking off my shirt and pulling down my pants… and then the cops showed up.”
“Oh no!” Annie exclaimed quietly, her eyes aglow with expectation; she had remained almost completely silent to this point so as not to interrupt the narrative.
“Oh yes,” Francesca resumed, laughing a little. “So, the cops show up to put a stop to the party, and it’s like half the force and the SWAT team and like thirty cop cars and the fire department… it was insane. It was like the Army was invading. So, sirens start going off and we all get scared and start to scatter. My first instinct is to run, but remember, I’m in the back of a truck and I’m undressing myself. So, I try to bolt, but my pants are around my ankles, so I end up falling out of the truck.”
“What?! Were you hurt?” Annie asked.
Francesca shook her head. “No, I somehow managed to land on my back. I kicked off my pants and snatched my shirt out of the back of the truck and ran for it with everyone else while quickly trying to get it back on. The police didn’t have enough guys to chase all of us, but there were enough and they were super-pissed at us for having the party in the first place. One cop got after me and I had to outrun him by jumping through a hedge and backtracking around another apartment building. Being on the run sobers you up, and thank God I saw one of my roommates sneaking into our complex, and she got me inside without any more trouble. Some other folks followed us in and since we were all in a celebratory mood about escaping the police, we continued to quietly party. I didn’t realize that I never put my pants back on until I woke up the next morning.”
Annie laughed. “Oh man! That is a great story! You’re right, not as cool as the flamingo in the toilet, but still pretty cool. Thank God you weren’t wearing a diaper, eh?”
Francesca flushed pink. “Yeah, totally,” she said. “That would have been… interesting.”
Annie giggled. “Sometimes I have too much to drink while I’m wearing a diaper, and it can… shall we say… cloud my judgment. Sometimes at the Caretaker’s house, me and some of the girls have a few too many… it can get crazy. One of the other girls is really into it, so when she’s drunk and acting like a baby, she’s actually pretty good. She can throw a tantrum like you wouldn’t believe, though,” she finished, apparently reliving a memory that brought a faint look of distaste to her expression.
Francesca arched an eyebrow. Drunken tantrums. That would be something to see, which gave her an idea. “Hey, these other friends of yours… do they live here in town?”
Annie nodded. “Some of them, yes. Others are a little farther away, but there’s a pretty solid group of us here in town.”
Francesca kept her phrasing deliberately meek and deprecating. “Do… you think I could meet some of them?”
“Sure you can!” Annie answered cheerfully. “In fact, we’re having another get-together at the Caretaker’s place next Saturday. You should come!”
“I’d like that,” Francesca smiled. “I’d like that a lot.”
After that critical point was established, the conversation turned to more banal topics, and then after a light meal the two women went out on the town. Annie took Francesca to places she had mentioned the previous night, and eventually ended up back at Annie’s apartment. Francesca accepted the invitation warily, but she needed to know what sort of person she was dealing with, both for the FBI and for herself. Francesca did care a great deal for her new friend, and wanted to make sure that when all was said and done, she wouldn’t be negatively affected by the case when it was brought to its successful conclusion. Francesca was, however, surprised by Annie’s collection of diapers. “Yeah, I’m pretty seriously into the lifestyle,” she admitted. “When I go to work, I’m a big girl. When I come home, I trade my panties for diapers until I have to go back to work,” she added as she pulled a diaper from one of the open bags in her linen closet and went into her bedroom to change. “Feel free to grab one and change in the bathroom,” she offered before she disappeared, the sounds of a diaper change in progress shortly following. Francesca took Annie at her word, and sheepishly selected a diaper and went into the bathroom to change. The one she had left her apartment in was quite wet, and Francesca had yet to adjust to wearing her waste for an extended period of time; she was grateful for the dry diaper when it was on.
Re: The Caretaker’s House - Updated 8/10/12
I like the way this story is progressing. Francesca’s emotions as she experiments with her diapers seem very authentic. She’s neither thoroughly disgusted nor unrealistically entranced. Her friendship with Annie also seems unforced, and her guiltiness about using her to further the investigation rings true.
I do think the seven paragraphs of introductory material about the Caretaker and the FBI investrigation may have been a bit too much to start the story before we even meet the main character. There must be a better way of getting the information in without dumping it all at once.
All in all. a very good beginning; I look forward to reading more.
Re: The Caretaker’s House - Updated 8/10/12
Great addition. I know I’ll read to the conclusion.
Re: The Caretaker’s House - Updated 8/10/12
Chapter Five
When Francesca emerged from the bathroom she followed the sounds through Annie’s comfortably appointed apartment to the residence’s owner, finding her in the kitchen. “This is a really nice place you have he—here,” she stuttered, momentarily overcome by surprise to complete her thought. Annie was standing at the kitchen counter with her back to Francesca as she mixed a pair of drinks. When Annie turned around, Francesca could see that she was nervous, off balance, and in a state that could best be described as frazzled. The cheerful prints across the tape panel of her exposed diaper were a stark contrast to the range of emotions running across Annie’s always happy expression. “What’s wrong?” Francesca asked, concerned.
Annie shook her head. “Nothing,” she said quietly, so quiet it was almost a whisper. She remained standing there, still only for her breathing. Francesca hesitated to approach, but Annie came out of her brief daze, and offered Francesca one of the drinks. “Fruit cocktail with a dash of seltzer water,” she explained. “I… um,” she trailed off, unable to complete her thought, shifting from foot to foot gently, causing her diaper to rustle.
A vast number of possibilities flooded their way through Francesca’s mind as she observed the anxious, nervous Annie fiddling with her drink now that Francesca had taken hers. Annie looked down and away from Francesca, who continued to watch her silently for a moment, until she could stand the silence no longer and asked the sixty-four-thousand-dollar question. “Why do you keep testing me?”
Annie’s head came up, then, her eyes sharp and piercing. “What makes you think this is a test?”
“You wouldn’t be standing there looking embarrassed in just your diaper if you weren’t,” Francesca retorted. “Now come on, out with it. What happened to you to make you behave this way?”
Annie flinched. Anyone else might not have noticed it, but Francesca had, quite naturally, been trained in interrogation techniques. “What makes you think that something happened to me?”
Francesca sighed, and then smiled gently. “Annie, you might as well paint it up on a billboard. Now come on, talk to me.”
Annie was silent, conflicting emotions warring just beneath the surface. Francesca gave her a few moments, watching the battle from afar to see how it would turn out; there was no decisive movement. Francesca made her decision. Setting aside her drink, she undid her cargo pants and pushed them down around her ankles; she stepped out of them and stooped to collect and drape them over the back of a chair, leaving her in just her socks and tops as normal clothing, her diaper crinkling as she moved. “Now will you talk to me?”
Gratitude was plainly evident in Annie’s expression, and Francesca’s leveling of the playing field was the critical element. Annie gestured to the living room and wordlessly both women went to the spacious couch and sat down comfortably, the rustle and crinkle of their diapers an unusual sound in Francesca’s ears. When they were situated, Annie began to speak. “It was after I got out of college that I really started exploring the fetish more intensely: I was out on my own, I had my own space, and no one around to bother me about it. I had diapers, I had bottles, I had adult baby clothes, and I had a collection of online friends who I felt that I knew and trusted. One of them fancied herself as a ‘mommy’; meaning a person who takes care of adult babies and diaper lovers by treating them as they want to be treated. She invited me out to her place for a weekend to baby me, you know, really show me what the scene was all about. I thought it over, we talked about it a lot, and finally I agreed. She promised that it would just be me and her for a day and a night, and we set a date. I drove down from where I was living at the time and we met for lunch. We went over the rules, the boundaries, and the safe word, and when I was ready I followed her back to her place. There was no one there; it was just me and her, just like she promised. She gave me a tour, and then asked if I was ready for my diaper. I said I was, so she took me to what she called the baby room. There was a huge crib, a changing table, a dresser and a closet full of adult baby clothes, stacks upon stacks of cloth and disposable diapers… you name it, it was probably there.”
Here Annie paused in her narrative for a sip of her cocktail; Francesca suddenly realized she was thirsty and took some of her own while Annie resumed. “I started to undress, but she asked if I would let her undress me as part of the scene. It wasn’t something we had talked about, but I decided that since she was going to see me bottomless anyway, it would be okay. However, she didn’t interpret it that way, and that should have been my first red flag. She stripped me naked in the gentlest way possible, and then had me climb up on the table to be diapered. I felt so vulnerable and she had this… power over me, and I just wanted to be dressed again, so I let her do her thing. Anyway, she got me into a diaper and put me in a romper and then we started to play. First it was dolls and then it was coloring books, and I really started to relax and get into the spirit of the game, finally, thinking everything was going to be okay. I started to have fun. A little while later she took me to the kitchen and put me into a high chair to feed me an early dinner. The high chair had a lock on the… food platter whatever, so that once she put me in it, I was in it for the long haul because I couldn’t see or find the latch to let myself out. She fed me a dinner of glorified baby food made for the purpose, which was actually sort of fun, but that was when it all started to go wrong. The door opened and closed, and a man’s voice called hello into the house. She called him into the kitchen while she fed me, and I almost died right there when this guy came in; big guy, burly arms, long hair tied back in a ponytail, tattoos up and down his arms; like a biker, I guess. Anyway, he looked at me like I was a piece of meat and it scared me so bad I murmured the safe word to this gal. I thought she didn’t hear me, because the biker was saying something about her hobby with a laugh that must have overpowered my words, and when she turned back to me it was to put more food in my mouth. He went into the TV room and turned on a game or something, and she finished with me and then took me upstairs for a diaper change. By this point I was pretty wet and I was glad to get a new diaper, but while I was being changed, biker man came down the hall asking about something; he opened the door while I was still being wiped, and only my piercing shriek of ‘get out!’ got him to leave again. ‘Mommy’ shushed me and scolded me for being rude, telling me that good little girls didn’t behave like that.”
Again, Annie stopped, but this time it wasn’t for a drink. Francesca remained silent, knowing that her place was only to listen, not to contribute. Angie was clearly shaken by the memories of her ordeal and was pausing only to gather herself for the final push. “I could see the betrayal in her eyes; she didn’t care at all that she had violated our agreement, broken all the rules, and so I spoke the safe word again, clearly and directly, and she only went back to putting me into my diaper. Since I was naked from the waist down I let her finish, but I was so mad. When she was done and I got off the table, she told me it was time for me to take a nap and she tried to get me to go into the crib, telling me that everything was okay. I told her no, and I told her I was leaving; she… tried to force me. The crib had a locking top on it that I saw at the last minute as she tried to calm me down and that really freaked me out. I screamed and slapped her and the shock made her let go of me long enough for me to run. I made a dive for my purse, scooped up all my clothes and got my phone out only by the grace of God before she could get to me. Biker man came back into the room then, demanding to know what was going on and I screamed them both down, telling them that if they didn’t let me leave right then I was calling 911; I had the numbers punched in on the phone and all I had to do was hit send. They both tried to calm me down but I was hysterical. I refused to let them near me, and told them if they didn’t let me out I was calling the police and screaming bloody murder. They looked at me like I was utter slime, but they let me go.” Francesca nodded her approval; 911 calls always received a response, whether it was a squad car or a SWAT team. Evidently the people she had been with didn’t want any sort of attention. That was something Francesca was going to pass along as well… there might be some positive outgrowth from this case that would go a long way towards protecting other people, she thought to herself.
“I got the hell out of there and never looked back. She tried to contact me again, but I didn’t respond to her messages; I deleted the account I talked to her with and went through… a purge, I guess. I threw out a lot of my baby clothes or gave them away; I made it a point to burn the romper that she had dressed me in. It took me a long time to get over that, and in the meantime, I started talking to this guy for a while, and he really helped me get through it, as did a couple other friends who I’m still really close to, even though they’re like, across the country.”
Here Annie began to break down; tears clouded her eyes and her lip trembled. She looked away as Francesca started to lean forward to offer some sort of tender contact, and before Francesca could even start to complete the maneuver, Annie was back in control of herself. Francesca covered her motion by awkwardly resituating herself until she felt the moment had passed. She knew that this next part of the story was going to be painful for Annie to tell. She wished she had been disappointed.
“We talked, and talked, and talked… we even met up a couple times, living not too far from each other. Real casual stuff: nothing serious, nothing dangerous. After a while, he suggested bringing diapers into the mix… he was a diaper lover and so we would wear our diapers together when we hung out and went to movies and stuff, and it started to get more serious. We got closer and closer, and I really liked him a lot… until one night after we had gone out for a dinner and a movie he invited me back to his place. Once we were in the door, he changed… it was like Jekyll and Hyde. He had me go to the living room of his apartment and he went to his room, I guess, for a minute, and when he came back he had diapers and wipes and he told me to lay down so he could change me. I told him no, but he insisted… not like in a ‘hey you’re probably wet and really need a change and I’d like to change you’ sort of way, but in an ‘I don’t care what you want, I’m changing your diaper anyway’ kind of way. I told him no; he started to get angry. He tried to guilt me into it, pressure me into it… then he lost his cool and tried to throw me into it. He grabbed my arm and tried to force me down, I got out of his hold and he cussed me out and tried again. I dodged him and made a dash for the door. He went after me and I elbowed him away long enough to get out the door; before I got out he tried to pull me away by grabbing me around the waist and I jabbed my elbow into his face. I ran down the hall and fled the building as fast as I could. He tried calling me, but I didn’t pick up; when I got home there were emails and messages waiting for me telling me he was sorry and that he lost his head and didn’t mean to hurt me, but I had none of it. I never responded to him, and again deleted that profile and cut off all contact with everyone I’d been close to for a while. After that…” Annie shrugged. “I just was in it for myself. I would come home from work and put on a diaper and do my thing. Every now and again I’d go on a date with a guy I’d meet, sometimes a few times with the same guy, but they never seemed to click and I’d let them down easy.”
“Because you don’t feel you can trust them with this side of your life,” Francesca said, speaking for the first time in what seemed like ages.
Annie nodded soberly. “Exactly. I don’t know who I can and cannot trust, and I’ve been burned so badly twice that I don’t speak to anyone, anymore, if I don’t think I can trust them.”
That sparked curiosity in Francesca as well as set off instinctive warning bells in her head. “How did I get past your filter?” Francesca asked.
Annie smiled. “That’s easy; you came off so obviously innocent and new to the lifestyle that I knew if I didn’t take pity on you someone else would… and then you might end up like I did, only worse.”
Francesca couldn’t help but smile; the warning bells eased. “You wanted to protect me.”
“Yes, I did. Then we got to talking and you just seemed so… normal. Since I’ve nearly been killed, like, twice, now, I’ve developed a sense for these things. I can tell you’re a good egg, Frankie. That’s why you’re here… but I still had to be sure. That’s why after my diaper change, I left my pants off. I had to see how you reacted. I wanted to see if you were going to try to hurt me. I don’t think anyone else would have taken off their pants like you did, just to level the playing field. That… clinched it, really,” Annie murmured. “I don’t know you very well, I don’t know your past, I don’t know… anything about you, except that you won’t try to hurt me. No matter what… I know you’re safe and that I’m safe with you. And right now… that’s all that matters, at least to me.”
The complete sincerity in Annie’s voice moved Francesca almost to tears, so much so that Francesca needed a moment to compose herself before she responded. “I… don’t know what to say to that,” she said with a quiet laugh, and then slid across the couch and put her arms around Annie in a friendly embrace which was cheerfully returned. “So… yeah. This is me being lame.”
Annie laughed and swiped away the last vestiges of the tears she hadn’t let fall when they parted. “Thanks.”
“Sure,” Francesca responded, and a companionable silence descended for a moment.
“So tell me,” Annie prompted. “What’s it like sitting around with another girl while wearing diapers?”
Francesca thought about it, and then looked down at her own diaper peeking out from under the hem of her shirt and then at Annie’s diaper and then at Annie herself. “Well… it’s definitely different. But, to be honest… I think I could get used to it,” she replied, privately surprised at the ring of truth of her own words.
Annie beamed at her. “Good!” she said before she stood from the couch and tossed a pillow into Francesca’s face, only narrowly deflected.
“Hey!” she cried before tossing it back at Annie, who only giggled and whipped it back at her. Francesca narrowed her eyes. “Okay, seriously, if we’re not careful something bad is going to happen. We have to go about this in a more adult manner.”
Annie wasn’t inclined to follow Francesca’s line of though, and merely picked up another pillow to lob at her. “Like what?” Francesca stood up from the couch and snatched up the remote to Annie’s TV and stereo. “What are you doing?” she asked, curiosity overcoming her more brattish attitude.
Francesca didn’t answer for a moment as she scrolled through channels on the digital cable menu. “Let’s see… ha. There it is,” she said with quiet triumph. She selected the channel and a moment later the screen was alive with a riot of color and light and the stereo pulsed out the heavy bass beat of the latest hip hop singles. For her part, Francesca began to dance to it. One of her hobbies in addition to the perks of the Bureau was frequent participation in a hip hop dance class, something she had done since high school, having at one point been both a cheerleader and a dancer. Francesca knew full well that the frequent hip hop exercises kept her lean, limber, and flexible, and she showed it now with a variety of sharp, crisp moves that would have done a backup dancer proud. She paused in one of her evolutions to throw a challenge at Annie. “Let’s see what you got!”
Annie took the bait and squared off against Francesca, her face shining with the glow of the challenge, all hints of sadness and secret pain washed away, much to Francesca’s relief. “Oh, it’s on, girlfriend!” she shot back, and proceeded to stun Francesca into momentarily silence with moves that weren’t far removed from her own.
Suitably impressed, Francesca remarked, “you must have had some practice or some training.”
“High school and college; cheerleader,” came the reply.
“Fancy that, same here!”
With this shared piece of their respective histories, the taller Francesca and the shorter Annie by some unconscious change of tack began to dance with each other rather than against each other, eventually ending up nearly in unison with the backup dancers for a variety of top-40s videos, or at least as close to unison as they could manage by feeling the beat and interpreting it in their own ways, which led to accidental blows being exchanged and a great deal of amusement. Both women had eventually shed some of their upper garments, to the point that eventually they were both frolicking about in their diapers and whatever base layer shirt had formed the foundation for each woman’s outfit for the evening, until fatigue had set in and they settled back simply to watch and critique the dancers in the videos as well as whatever gyrations the artist in question was making. Francesca allowed herself to relax and use her diaper as well; by this point Annie’s was getting close to soaked, which amused Francesca. She had no idea that Annie was that relaxed of a diaper lover that she would so openly and casually soil herself. Francesca felt she needed to do the same to maintain the status quo and also keep up the comfort level that would be critical for her forthcoming maneuvers to lay the house of the Caretaker open for the FBI. Too, the notion of wetting her diaper in her friend’s presence felt just naughty enough to make it worth the embarrassment she felt for being in a wet diaper in a public—though quite private and intimate—a setting. She wondered how she would fare at the Caretaker’s House, and if she would be as strong as she felt she needed to be when the time came to complete her mission… and cut ties with people who would be either proven innocent at last, or have the shadows of guilt finally cast over them.
Francesca eventually bid to leave Annie’s apartment, much to Annie’s dismay. She was prevailed upon to at least promise to hang out the following day so they could have more fun doing something that would surely be entertaining, and Francesca was able to happily agree to the meeting. Francesca did make a point of declining to change into a fresh diaper, claiming that she wanted to get used to being wet, and also that she didn’t want to trespass too terribly upon Annie’s enormous stash of diapers. Annie wasn’t having it. “Okay, fine! I’m… sort of embarrassed to change my diaper in your apartment; I only changed earlier because I was really, really wet,” Francesca sheepishly admitted, not without truth.
Annie was satisfied with that admission; it strengthened their friendship only more. “No sweat, kiddo; maybe you’ll loosen up when you see the Caretaker changing our diapers,” she said, and bid Francesca goodnight, leaving the undercover FBI agent with only more questions about what truly went on at the Caretaker’s… questions that she knew would soon be answered.
Re: The Caretaker’s House - Updated 8/13/12
Chapter Six
That night after Francesca returned to her apartment, she uploaded new information via the secured link to the FBI that included Annie’s address, the final piece of the puzzle that would allow the Bureau to complete their picture of her. She also confirmed in an email to both of her current bosses that she would be inside the Caretaker’s House next Saturday or earlier. After that was done with, Francesca changed her diaper and went to bed, having waged a brief battle over whether or not to switch back to underwear in the privacy of her own space—she couldn’t think of the apartment as ‘home’, not when it was being financed by the Bureau, and especially not when she would be removing back to her own apartment in a matter of weeks, that number being as few as two. There would be a lot of paperwork and after-action reports to generate, submit, and file after the case was closed.
Francesca dreamed dreams she hadn’t ever had before in her life that she was aware of; she dreamt that she was in a cheerfully-decorated house with Annie and they were being treated like overgrown toddlers, complete with their diapers on display to the world and not caring in the least. In her dream, Francesca watched as Annie was fed baby food and made a mess of it, and then suffered the same fate herself. She also watched as Annie’s diaper was changed by a male figure she could only assume was her mind’s fabrication of the Caretaker, and then she herself had her diaper changed by the same figure. She awoke the next morning in a slight daze, with her mind clouded with conflicting feelings about having her diaper changed by someone else; she was simultaneously repulsed and intrigued by the idea. Her hand slipped under the covers to her diaper, and she was relieved to find that it was still dry. Of course it was still dry, she reproached herself mentally. There was no reason it should be anything other than dry, after all. However, while there was no reason it should have been wet when she woke up, Francesca did not see the point in letting it go to waste; after she stood from her bed she relaxed and soon the diaper’s mission was fulfilled. Francesca still didn’t see what was so fun about wetting one’s diaper, but she had to admit it was very convenient not to have to wait in line for the ladies’ room when out and about, even if it did inspire occasional episodes of self-disgust when she remembered that she was carting around her own waste like so much payload. Whenever that happened, she had to remind herself that it was part of staying in character and maintaining that common ground with Annie, who was both Francesca’s greatest asset and worst nightmare, in addition to becoming her closest friend. Francesca knew in her heart that she would eventually have to tell Annie the whole truth, and hope that Annie’s assertion that no matter what, Francesca would not hurt her, held fast in the face of what could only be betrayal on a colossal level.
When Francesca walked into her bathroom to change out of her wet diaper she was greeted with an unpleasant reminder of the darker side of the diaper fetish, and it made her wrinkle her nose in distaste. Yesterday’s diapers had cheerfully permeated the bathroom with the pungent stink of stale urine. “Ugh, gross,” she grumbled as she took off her wet diaper and rolled it up to join the other two in the wastebasket. She cleaned herself with wipes scaled for adults—on a lark she had wandered into the pharmacy section the previous day and discovered them—and then set about tying closed and removing the bag, pushing it into the kitchen’s garbage can which had a pop-up lid; a sure-fire way to contain the odor until she took the garbage to the complex dumpster. When that was dealt with, she went about preparing for the day by showering and selecting clothes for another excursion with Annie. However, before she could put on a diaper—or any other clothes—her phone rang. After carefully making sure that her still-wet hair was wrapped up in its towel, she picked it up and answered; she did not recognize the number. “Francesca Bowden,” she greeted.
“Agent Bowden, this is Bart Clayton with the local Bureau; we got your information on your contact and we’ve run our background check. This gal checks out clean. No previous criminal history, a couple speeding tickets… low-key stuff, nothing setting off any red flags.”
“That’s good to know,” Francesca said, somewhat relieved.
“Yeah, Thompson wanted you to know. He also asked for a status update; I haven’t been briefed in, yet, so a vague answer that would make sense to him will do the job,” the voice of Bart Clayton said, amusement evident in his tone. Francesca couldn’t help but smile.
“You can tell Thompson that this-coming Saturday is the big day; I’ll get him a more complete update when I come in tomorrow; I have another meeting with Annie, today; we’re going to check out more of the things to do around here and do girly stuff,” Francesca replied, allowing herself to be as amused with the conversation as Clayton was.
“Sounds good, Agent Bowden. Thompson says nice job, by the way, or at least he would if he was in the office. I’ll pass along your message and we’ll see you tomorrow.”
“Thank you, Mr. Clayton.” The line clicked off and Francesca put her phone back on the dresser before reaching for the clean diaper she had set out on her bed. She paused for a moment after she picked it up and debated going without a diaper, but decided against it as she unfolded the disposable garment and went about putting it on. It was important to maintain solidarity and camaraderie with her contact—friend, she reminded herself—in order to keep working her way in and accomplish her final, overarching objective.
They had agreed to meet at a café across town for lunch, but when Francesca arrived, she was surprised to see that Annie wasn’t alone; she was in the company of another twenty-something woman who looked as though she would be more at home among people wearing all black in a dark room with neon lights everywhere: she was liberally pierced when it came to her ears, lips, and nose, her hair was dyed as black as black could be with several other colors towards the ends, it was cut short in the front but spiked out in the back, she wore a black shirt with a band name that Francesca didn’t recognize on it, over which was a leather jacket, she wore a denim skirt with a variety of what Francesca could only assume were punk rock patches scattered over it along with some designs of her own done in what was probably Sharpie marker, black leggings, and black lace-up boots with at least three inches of platform to them. Her nails were painted black, white, pink, and blue, she wore heavy blue and black eye shadow, and her lips were painted with black lipstick. Sitting next to the more casually dressed and made-up Annie, this new face was a striking contrast. However, any notion of this person being antagonistic to Annie were immediately quashed; they were engaged in friendly conversation before Annie spotted Francesca and waved her over. When the other woman looked at Francesca was when her instinctive red flags went up: the look she received was hard and appraising. Francesca approached and Annie made the introductions.
“Sadie, this is Frankie; the girl I told you about. Frankie, this is Sadie, another friend of mine at the Caretaker’s,” she said.
Ah ha. “Nice to meet you,” Francesca said, extending a hand.
“Mm,” Sadie responded, not making a good first impression, which Francesca figured was her intent. “So what the fuck, newbie? What are you doing in this freak show lifestyle?”
Francesca was immediately thrown off her guard. “What?” she asked stupidly. Sadie just kept her level, heavily made up eyes leveled straight into Francesca’s. Francesca noticed they were a lovely shade of blue. “Oh, um…” Francesca stammered as she groped for coherent thoughts and words to string together in something resembling English. “Well, I haven’t figured anything out about it other than I like it,” she said, and she was only partly lying. She didn’t mind the diapers when it came to wearing them. Wetting them was still something she was adjusting to.
Sadie seemed to be anything other than convinced. “Right. Well, whatever. Just don’t fuck with me, or my friends, or anything else about this, okay? Because, if you do, I’ll probably kill you. I mean that. Do not mess this up.” The intensity in Sadie’s voice was disturbing, and Francesca had to repress a strong urge to flash her badge that she had hidden in her purse along with her other credentials… and her sidearm.
Before Francesca could make any sort of response, Annie jumped in and defused the situation. “Relax, Sadie. I’ve gotten to know her quite a bit over the last couple days. She’s a good egg.”
Sadie turned her gaze to Annie. “You sure?” Francesca kept quiet, thinking this was some sort of initiation process.
Annie nodded. “I’ve been right before,” she answered.
Whatever reminder this was seemed to mollify Sadie enough for her to explain herself. “Alright, then. Sorry Frankie, but we’ve had some people try to fuck us over several times. I mean, I’m not exactly the girl next door, obviously, and I like to get wild and have fun, but this thing you’re getting into with us is, like, one of the most important things in my fucked up tornado of a life. I’ve known Annie for a long time—we go back a ways—and I trust her judgment about new people. Some we let in. Others we don’t. She told me all about you, or at least what she knows, which is why you’re sitting here with us at this table. I hate newcomers who just want to be part of the ‘scene’ or just want to get their rocks off or something. This is much, much more than that, especially to me.”
Francesca had been evaluating Sadie the entire time she had been speaking and making her own private deductions. Hard life? Probably; possibly involving substance abuse in one form or another. History of abuse? Possibly. Francesca could see in Sadie’s eyes that she was hiding some wounds and had some deeper issues to work through. “Well, however important it is to you, I promise I won’t… rain on your parade, or anything. I’m in this for me. I’m not here to mess up anyone else’s fun, whatever that might be.”
“I’m going to hold you to that, Frankie,” Sadie said in a quiet, serious tone. Francesca wondered how bad Sadie’s life actually was to make her so defensive. She put that down to some of the people who had been dragging the Caretaker through the mud getting under Sadie’s skin.
“Anyway,” Annie broke in. “What say we order something?” she suggested, hoping to defuse the situation even further.
“That is a fantastic idea,” Francesca agreed and she dove into her menu to break the heavy atmosphere that had descended upon the table. Sadie picked up her menu and silently perused it. They all selected light but hearty meals, and Francesca took the opportunity to order something to drink other than water. After the waiter had brought Francesca her drink, she took the opportunity to go on the offensive, at least to a mild degree. “So, Sadie… what’s your favorite brand to wear?”
“Huh?” Sadie asked looking up from her menu. “Oh, um…” she trailed off and blushed before answering in little better than an embarrassed mumble. “Cuddles.” Francesca had to remember which brand that was before she was able to put the picture together, and when she did she giggled. Sadie immediately flushed red. “What’s so funny?” she demanded archly.
“Nothing, really,” Francesca promised. “It’s just… that’s such an adorably girly diaper.”
“They don’t make any Goth diapers,” Sadie retorted sulkily.
“Okay, okay, I’m sorry I brought it up. They are really cute diapers, though; honestly, I never would have figured you for a Cuddles girl… maybe cloth with skulls and crossbones or something.”
Sadie made a face. “Cloth is okay, but I like the Cuddles better. They’re just… well… I don’t know. I just like 'em. Sometimes I get tired of being all tough and shit, and they help me just chill.”
“Have you tried that new really thick diaper that Bambino just came out with?” Francesca asked.
“Who came out with what, now?”
Annie chimed in. “The Bambino Bellissimo. I’ve got a case on order; should be in this week and I can’t wait to try them. They look adorable.”
“How adorable?” Sadie asked, her curiosity piqued; she showed an eagerness that Francesca found amusing, as well as interesting.
“Well, not as adorable as Cuddles, but like three times as thick,” Annie explained. “They put a really cute tape panel on it with bunnies and bears and stuff. It’s really colorful.”
“Did they do anything with the rest of the diaper, like make it single-tape or color more than just the tape panel?” Sadie asked.
“No, still same old Bambino, aside from being thicker.”
Sadie made another face, this one a negative reaction. “Bleh. I mean, I like Bambino, but they seriously need to get with it and paint over more of their diapers. It’s not like it’s hard to do.”
“One day they will, I bet,” Annie put in.
“How would you rate Cuddles against Bambinos?” Francesca asked.
“Well, Cuddles look better, but they’re more of a play diaper, like ABU. Cloth-like rather than plastic shell, pink leg gathers, pink tape panel, pink hearts and shit all over the place, pink elastic waistbands front and back, so in that department they have Bambino beat. I like cloth-like diapers better than plastic most of the time, anyway. Downside is, Bambino is still more absorbent and they leave you feeling a little drier; Cuddles aren’t bad, but they leave you a little more… damp, I guess, and they’re only good for maybe two solid wettings. Bambinos you can wear for like, a day and not need a change. I’ve pushed both diapers to the max to see which could take the heat. Bambino won.”
“That’s cool,” Francesca said. “I thought about trying them, but everyone was over the moon for Bambino.”
“I would be, too, if they would just make them look better. Maybe this new one will sway me,” Sadie allowed, and then they all fell silent on the subject of diapers as their meals arrived. Francesca felt a sense of victory at having bridged a gap between her and Sadie; it felt like the tension that had been between them because of Sadie’s aggressive defense was partially deflated, and that was a good thing. However, Sadie could prove to be an eventual thorn in Francesca’s side when it came to closing this part of the investigation… something that Francesca was going to have to take into account one way or another. The only question was how to go about it. The other side of the coin, however, was that Sadie could be an unexpected bonus to the case… she seemed like a troubled soul who needed guidance, and maybe a little rescuing. Francesca hoped she would be able to help.
Lunch was uneventful, aside from banal commentary on individual meals, tastes, similar dishes consumed in the past, and then Annie put forth the suggestion that they go a local art gallery. The suggestion didn’t precisely appeal to Francesca, but she approved of it and voiced her support for the notion. Sadie agreed as well, rather enthusiastically, and after paying for their meals, the three women departed from the café. Scarcely had they gone five feet from the door when Sadie gushed, “oh, you are in for a treat; I should have suggested it earlier, but this is the perfect time to go. One of the shows this month is really, really good… like, the best I’ve seen in ages.”
That got Francesca’s interest. “Really? What’s the show about?”
“It’s a color study, various paints on various materials, some mixed with sculpture and lighting designed to stimulate emotional response,” Sadie responded.
“How does that work?” Annie asked, sparing Francesca from having to.
“Well, think about it. We naturally react to certain colors, right? Red usually stands for passion or love or hate, blue for peace or sadness or depression, green for envy or sickness, and yellow for cowardice, so these artists have taken some of those colors to create specific environments around each piece, so that when you view it you react to it on a subconsciously emotional level, rather than the top-tier emotional level you might experience looking at a beautiful landscape, or a sunset, or a baby seal or something. I was here a couple weeks ago with some other friends and we really enjoyed it.”
“Could be fun, then,” Francesca said, actually looking forward to the experience, now, with Sadie’s all-but-glowing review of it.
The gallery wasn’t a far walk from the café where they had lunch, and on the way Francesca was pleased that in addition to talking about art they talked about other things that were both commonplace and specific, and in general they all behaved as friends. In spite of her earlier bluster, Francesca actually found herself enjoying Sadie’s company, though not to the same extent that she enjoyed Annie’s; that deeper connection wasn’t there, yet. While they walked, and the other two women talked about something that Francesca wasn’t immediately familiar with, she allowed herself to drift into her own private thoughts for a few minutes, and invariably came back to her reason for being in this situation in the first place. Her cover was easy, and keeping it was even easier, at least for the moment. However, this time she had an unpleasant thought and worried that everything she was doing was suddenly in jeopardy; what if this gallery had a bag check? She knew that a lot of major museums and galleries did, because they didn’t want people walking around with bags or drinks, because they might accidentally bump into something or spill. If that was the case, and they chose to go through her purse, they’d see her gun and she would have to show her badge in order to keep things quiet, but that might only make things worse rather than better…
…And then all of her fears were laid to rest when they walked into the gallery, paid a perfunctory entry fee, and were able to walk right into the exhibits. Francesca allowed herself a private sigh of relief. Sadie was excited to be back in the gallery, and she evidently was a frequent visitor if the way she greeted the attendants in such a familiar way was any indication. Annie was looking about, evidently willing to be pleased by what they were about to see, but the pieces in the welcoming area were from a broad spectrum of styles and media, not part of the specific show they had come to see. That was further back, and in a wing all to itself, the brochure they had all taken told them. Before they could go to the gallery itself, Annie said she needed to visit the restroom, which Francesca interpreted, correctly, as Annie needed a diaper change. The thought almost made her laugh, but Francesca realized she might benefit from a diaper change as well…
Re: The Caretaker’s House - Updated 8/16/12
A good solid story that keeps me interested you have managed this.
Re: The Caretaker’s House - Updated 8/16/12
Chapter Seven
The trick to surviving life in diapers is not to make a big deal about it when wearing them. Francesca vaguely recalled reading that in the forum posts she had browsed through days previously, and it had stuck with her since beginning this undercover assignment for real. However, she had made a terrible rookie mistake by forgetting to put her spare diaper in her purse, thus she was relegated to remaining in her wet diaper until she could get back to her apartment. This prompted her to worry about the undoubtedly horrific consequences of a leak, and so when her two companions headed to the restroom to deal with their diapers, Francesca followed suit with mounting embarrassment. She stifled it long enough to keep her composure until she was safely in a stall, wherein she silently vented her frustration until she felt calm after her private outburst. Casually, she unfastened her pants and pulled them down far enough to check her diaper, and she was privately relieved to see that she wasn’t very wet at all, at least by how her diaper felt. She heard Annie and Sadie changing diapers as quietly as they could, but Francesca simply pulled up her pants and exited her stall to wash her hands. Annie and Sadie found Francesca standing at the sinks checking her hair and makeup casually, and they all three of them left the restrooms to tour the gallery.
As she had several times before, Francesca simply pushed her diapered state to the back of her mind, as she had done when she had first started wearing them outside the security of a private residence with a locked door (and a firearm) between her and public view of her state. It was a source of momentary wonder for her that it was so easy to forget about it and go on about her normal life. Scant moments later, it was easy to remember why it was so easy to forget, but this time the reminder came from a source once thought to be hostile.
“I absolutely love this display,” Sadie breathed. “The vibrance, the emotion… it’s all so beautifully intense,” she went on, absorbing herself into the artwork arrayed on walls and pedestals around the spacious room. The artwork in question was a blend of single color studies, while others spanned the rainbow. Some were done in shades of gray, others all in black, or even shades of black; so it seemed to Francesca, anyway. There were sculptures as well, some simple pottery vibrantly and beautifully painted, as well as more interesting pieces such as mannequins that were painted over as well. Francesca tried to let her emotions lead her through the exhibit, as was the intent, but thinking about it just made it seem like she was looking at paint splattered on canvas in broad swaths to no good effect. Then, she realized she was going about it in the entirely wrong way, attempting to quantify what wasn’t supposed to be quantified, to apply meaning to that which wasn’t supposed to have meaning. She was instinctively assessing and critiquing, not viewing. She settled for thinking of the various colors as pretty, instead. Shortly, her entire view of the exhibit began to change, and the true impact of the art began to reveal itself to her.
“This blue one is beautiful,” she murmured while standing in front of a five-foot by nine-foot canvas that had an aesthetically pleasing whorl of blue paint on it, ranging from so-bright-it-could-be-white sky blue to deep, rich cerulean and navy that could almost have been black. It was simple and smooth, and Francesca liked it for that reason. Annie was more interested in the pieces that involved more than one color, while Sadie gravitated, perhaps by instinct, towards pieces that dealt with darker colors and had more chaotic—violent?—patterns of paint. Francesca focused on Sadie for a moment, watching her look at the displays. Did she see reflections of herself in the various works? Not impossible, because art on all levels spoke to the creator as well as to the viewer, and in some cases the viewer spoke back. Francesca couldn’t help but wonder what sort of past—or present—Sadie had to bring her to so dark a place… at least if Francesca was reading her right. It was no wonder, then, that Sadie craved the innocence of infantilism. It wasn’t just an escape or a distraction, it was her only means of outlet, perhaps the way she centered herself and managed to avoid the chaos that she might think surrounded her on all sides, waiting for a moment of weakness to strike and consume her. She was a striking contrast to Annie, Francesca thought, who was such a dear, sweet, innocent creature that it caused Francesca a fresh wave of guilt when she remembered why she was here and why she had targeted Annie specifically. Her justification for it was that when all was said and done and the pain had been inflicted, she would depart from Annie with the knowledge that she would be shielded from harm in the event that the Caretaker himself was criminally complicit in the child porn ring the FBI was foaming at the mouth to eradicate.
They spent upward of an hour in the art gallery, taking the time to view the other shows and exhibits at Francesca’s suggestion, often hearing Sadie expound upon the virtue or supposed meaning of this painting or that sculpture. Listening to her talk got Francesca to wonder, and eventually caused her to ask, “do you paint or sculpt at all?”
Sadie looked at Francesca as though distracted. “What?” She took the moment after that silly question to recollect herself. “Oh, um… sometimes, yeah. I do some photography here and there, sometimes I paint, sure, but never anything really… intricate,” she answered, somewhat sheepishly.
“Oh,” Francesca said with a slight nod. “You seem like you have a pretty solid grasp on what art can be that I wondered whether or not you might make any yourself… have you ever thought about doing anything for local art shows or submitting to this place?”
Sadie barked a laugh at that suggestion. “Me? Have work here?” she shook her head. “I think Mars would have to invade, first. My stuff, what little there is of it, isn’t good enough for this place.”
One of Francesca’s long-forgotten classes in college that had to do with art, and art history, came back to her at that moment. “I remember this story from when I was in college about this guy who… signed his name on a urinal or something and submitted it to this big-shot art show in New York, I think. It got shown,” Francesca finished with a shrug.
Sadie arched an eyebrow. “There is a world of difference between Marcel Duchamp and me.”
“Maybe, but sometimes art doesn’t have to be quantified, it just has to be. Maybe you can do something with diapers,” Annie put in suddenly, having been quietly watching the whole exchange from the sidelines.
“Oh yeah, great idea, Annie. Out me to the world, why don’t you,” she retorted.
“People have done stranger things in the past. Besides, you could always wrap it around some larger social issue,” Annie went on, and then let the matter drop when Sadie didn’t reply. By common consensus, the ladies left the gallery shortly after and started walking back towards where they had parked their cars. Francesca spared a moment to be concerned about her diaper, and debated heading back to her apartment to change. She wasn’t sure she could handle changing her diaper in public on her own without at least the somewhat comforting solidarity of another stall being occupied with the same task. However, before she could start choosing words to build her excuse, Sadie piped up with an idea.
“We should go to the Caretaker’s,” she suggested.
Annie spoke first, sparing Francesca’s brick-wall-impact surprise. “Seriously? I thought his next gathering wasn’t until next week,” she said, but she didn’t voice any opposition.
Sadie shrugged. “Maybe he planned one for next week, yeah, but I was going to go over to his place later, anyway, might as well invite you along. Frankie here seems like she’s got her head on straight, or as straight as it can be in this world, so why not tonight?”
Francesca felt she had to say something. “Well, is it alright with him?” she asked. “I mean, we can’t just barge in on him unannounced.”
“True,” Sadie conceded, but then she pulled out her phone and selected a number from her contacts list and dialed it. “Hey, it’s me,” she said when the connection went through. “Mind if me, Annie, and a new friend drop in on you later?” There were pauses between the exchanges, but Francesca found herself wanting violently to fidget at this possible break in her case. She forced herself to be calm and instead traded a look with Annie, who seemed almost as excited to visit him as Francesca was. “Well, yeah, it would involve diapers. No, Annie met her over the Internet a while ago, and she’s been hanging out with her the last couple days. She says she’s a good egg, and you know how Annie is on people. Yeah, I know you planned one for next week, but I’m bored and I wanna play.” That last exchange got Francesca’s mind thinking in a different way, especially as she started reading more deeply into Sadie’s facial and emotional expressions. “No, I promise I won’t bring anyone else, just Annie and Frankie, the new girl. You’ll like her; she’s nice.” Francesca smiled at the compliment, but wondered whether or not Sadie’s relationship with the Caretaker was more than just the play she wanted. It also made sense why she had his phone number… did Annie have his number as well? Possibly, but Francesca didn’t think so based on the information she’d read on him… but she also had to admit to herself that what she had to go on wasn’t a whole lot of information. “Okay, great. We’ll see you then,” Sadie finished, and put her phone away. “So, we’re on for tonight; any time after six. He wants us to bring some food, like frozen pizzas or something. If you have any preferred booze you can bring that, too,” Sadie explained to Francesca.
“Wow, just like that?” Francesca asked.
Sadie nodded. “He won’t admit it, but he likes to play just as much as I do, which is a lot of the time. He tries to keep to a schedule so he doesn’t overdo it and get bored, or go broke buying diapers. He’s got… like, the biggest stash I’ve ever seen, beating out even Annie, here, and she has something like a metric buttload.”
“His furniture is first rate, too; the cribs are super-comfortable and the changing table is… well, it’s amazing. Makes me feel like I’m two, again,” Annie put in.
“So, he changes your diapers for real, huh?”
Both women nodded, but it was Annie who made the response. “Yeah, but only if you let him; some girls just want to hang out in diapers, others want the full baby experience. He makes you pick what rules you want to play by, and you have to sign a waiver thing that establishes those rules, sort of like a contract.”
“Yeah, it’s really smart. It sets up boundaries so he knows how far you’re willing to go, but if you say, ‘hey, I just want to chillax in my diaper, don’t touch me’ when you get there, but by the end of the night you want him to change you, just tell him, and he’ll do it. He makes it all about what you want, not what he wants, so if you want something, you have to tell him. Otherwise, the dude just hides out in his office,” Sadie elaborated.
“Wow, sounds awesome,” Francesca said. “I’m looking forward to it!”
Sadie took the opportunity to rib Francesca a little bit. “So, you want to get your diapers changed by the famous Caretaker, huh?”
Francesca blushed, and was momentarily surprised to realize that it was an honest blush. “Well, I don’t know, yet. Probably not this first time; I just want to see what it’s all about. Who knows, I might get there, see what it’s like, and run for the hills.”
Sadie giggled. “Yeah, right. We’ll see what song you’re singing by the end of the night, Frankie.”
Annie chimed in with, “he’s very gentle about it, too; I love how he handles my diapers.”
Sadie nodded. “Yeah, he’s very delicate. Who would have thought that getting changed could be so… so… exciting?”
Not I, Francesca thought to herself, but didn’t speak it aloud. She blushed a little more and muttered something at random to put out a flag to change the subject, which Annie interpreted and delivered on. They spoke of casual things on the way back to their cars, and separated to go back to their respective domiciles or to stores to collect supplies for the evening. Annie told Francesca that she’d call her with how to get to the Caretaker’s House, or meet her somewhere and take her there in person.
After they separated, Francesca nearly exploded with pent-up energy. It was so bad that she threw her phone into her car’s ceiling trying to quickly dig it out of her purse, and then it refused to stay in her hands, causing her to chase it all over the floor of her car until she finally took a breath, calmed down, and could make a phone call without shrieking like a banshee. “This is Francesca Bowden with some good news; I’m going in tonight. I’ll call in later with the address,” she said, and then clicked off, having left a voicemail for Agent Thompson. Then, she headed to the nearest grocery store she knew of, picked out some pizzas and a two-liter bottle of Hawaiian Punch to bring to the Caretaker’s, and then headed back to her apartment to get ready. At long last, she had an excuse to wear her sundress and she meant to take advantage of it, so she put on her onesie/diaper shirt and her sundress after changing into a fresh diaper, put some spare clothes in a bag to bring with (because when engaging in baby play, even at one remove, it was better to be safe rather than sorry; too, she had memories of babysitting) and headed out.
Just as she was getting into her car, Annie called. “Hey, you ready?” she asked.
“Yeah, I was just getting into my car,” Francesca replied. “Where are we going?”
“Meet me at the bar we got drinks at your first night in town and I’ll lead you there. He’s… well, nervous about people he doesn’t know having his address.”
“That’s fine,” Francesca replied and agreed to the meeting. It was a short drive to the bar, and Annie was there shortly after Francesca arrived. Francesca formed up behind Annie and followed her through town towards the Caretaker’s House, butterflies in her stomach the entire trip. This was really happening. She was literally being lead to the goal of her first major field investigation, and the excitement of the moment was becoming harder and harder to bear. She was also worried that she wouldn’t like what she found when she got there, but it was a risk that had to be run. That’s why she had her badge and her gun, though of course she would be leaving those behind in her car. If push came to shove, she figured that her unarmed combat training would be enough to get her at least out the door.
The trip to the Caretaker’s House was longer than Francesca expected it to be, but that was primarily because Annie led her there taking mostly local and residential roads rather than arterial highways. Francesca didn’t worry about which turn went where, she just concentrated on keeping herself centered on the tasks before her. All she had to get was an address, and the FBI would do the rest. She was imagining Thompson’s reaction to her voicemail—which, on reflection, sounded full of a lot more bravado now than it had when she had recorded it—and was looking forward to the end of the night, rather than its beginning. She shifted in her driver’s seat and her diaper crinkled audibly, not being completely covered and restrained by pants. To calm herself, she turned on her car’s stereo and listened to some calming music while they drove.
When Annie led her off of a busier road and into a neighborhood, Francesca started paying attention to street names. They had to be close, now; if he lived across town Annie likely would have taken a more direct route to the area rather than skirting through half the city to get there. Her instincts were correct: after one more turn, Annie slowed and pulled along the curb to park, and Francesca pulled in behind her. As if it had been previously coordinated, Sadie pulled in moments later. Francesca surveyed her surroundings; good middle-class neighborhood, cars, homes, and yards all in fairly good condition which meant that the varying incomes up and down the street allowed for the basic outward signs of comfort and security. It was run-of-the-mill Americana through and through, which meant that the Caretaker himself was what the FBI had thought he was all along: the average person next door… at least on the outside.
Francesca got out of her car and walked over to Annie, who was just getting out of hers. “Oh, I love your dress!” she gushed. “You have to tell me where you got it!”
“Thanks,” Francesca replied with a smile, and she took a moment to tell her where to get one for herself.
“Excellent. I’ll look into it tomorrow, probably,” Annie said as Sadie walked up.
“I buzzed him to let him know we’re here,” she said.
“Oh yeah, that reminds me,” Francesca said as she went back to her car and got out the pizzas and Hawaiian Punch. Sadie then led both women to a specific house. It was a simple ranch home with a two-car garage, generic mid-range coloring and in good repair. Francesca hung back a pace to get a look at the house number without attracting too much attention. She memorized it, as well as the street name recorded earlier, and had to suppress a victorious smile. There were, however, butterflies in her stomach: this was it. She was going in, and she couldn’t help but wonder if she was walking into a person’s house or a spider’s web. Sadie walked up to the front door and rang the bell. A shadow within presaged the Caretaker’s appearance at the opening door, and Francesca was surprised at how… ordinary he looked; tall, probably around six feet or so, dark hair, Caucasian, maybe a touch of Slavic ancestry in his blood, in good shape and probably strong, but other than that, fairly nondescript.
“Evening, ladies; come in,” he said and he stood aside to admit them. Sadie walked in first with a cheerful smile and a playful jab to the Caretaker’s ribs. Annie followed, greeting him as well, and Francesca was last. “You must be Frankie,” he said to her with a small, but warm smile. “Welcome to my home.”
“Hi, so nice to meet you,” she said, freeing a hand to shake his.
“Everyone knows me as the Caretaker, but now that you’re here,” he said as he closed the door, “my name is Eric,” he finished as he took the food items off her hands. “Come on this way and I’ll give you a tour after I put this stuff away.” All three women followed behind him into the kitchen. Eric the Caretaker was only a few moments in putting the pizzas in the freezer and the punch in the refrigerator, and then he was gesturing for Francesca to follow him. “Obviously, this is the kitchen, dining room, and sitting room,” he said as he went along, “and down here is what I call the nursery for… obvious reasons,” he went on as he led Francesca into the most astonishing room she had ever seen in her entire life.
Re: The Caretaker’s House - Updated 8/22/12
Please continue I love this story ;D ;D ;D ;D ;D
Re: The Caretaker’s House - Updated 8/22/12
Chapter Eight
It was just like Annie had said, but more. The walls were painted baby blue and had clouds painted on them as well, the two cribs and the changing table were enormous and clearly sized for adults, built stoutly from finished wood. The room smelled of baby powder and oil, there were stuffed animals and a bin of toys along one wall, and a closet that was open to reveal adult-size baby clothes and unopened bags of disposable diapers.
“This… is amazing. It’s even better than Annie said it was,” Francesca said, truly enthralled by all that she saw.
The Caretaker smiled. “I’m glad you like it,” he said as he slipped past her and out the door. Francesca turned and followed him after a moment. “Down this way is my bedroom, which is normally off limits to my guests, but you might as well know where it is, anyway. This is the bathroom, which you are free to use as necessary, however please dispose of any used diapers in the diaper pail in the nursery,” he said as he walked down the hallway. “And this is my office,” he said as he walked into the room and sat down at his desk. “Not much to it, really, but I ask that you stay out unless you have my permission to be in here, mostly because it’s my office and I don’t need my guests snooping through my personal business,” he said congenially. Eric picked up a piece of paper and handed it over to Francesca. “These are the rules of the house for adult baby activities, and I do require that you read them thoroughly, understand them, sign and date it, and give it back to me so I can do the same. Basically, it is a contract that you agree to live by while you’re here, and it governs my actions more than it does yours,” he explained.
“Wow… you don’t mess around,” Francesca murmured while she read. There were three levels of ‘play’ available for her to engage in. Level One was the basic level: she was responsible for her own diaper changes, was not required to use her diapers at all, and could make use of the nursery and its supplies to change herself. The Caretaker was not responsible for her care, health, or wellbeing when it came to age play activities in any capacity at Level One. Level Two was a little more involved; at Level Two, she would still have responsibility for her own diaper changes, but the Caretaker would be able to check her diaper and tell her if she needed to change, she could be fed and put down for naps like a toddler if she wanted to play more like one, but she also had the option to ask for a diaper change if she was only wet; the Caretaker would not change a dirty diaper. At Level Three, the Caretaker was completely in charge; he could check and change her diapers at his discretion, he also could feed her, put her down for naps, and also had the right to discipline up to, but not past, the point of corporal punishment in any sense of the term. There was a caveat for levels One and Two: if for any reason her diaper leaked when it was her responsibility to take care of it, she was responsible for cleanup, up to and including paying for damages, which Francesca thought was fair. At Level Three it was his responsibility to check and change a diaper before a leak could happen.
“It’s for my protection as well as yours,” Eric explained. “I am a firm believer in clearly established boundaries when it comes to this fetish, and in order for there to be no confusion or complications, I spell the rules out pretty clearly. Use your head, use common sense, play nice, get along, and everyone’s happy. If you decide to play at Level Three tonight or at some point in the future, I require the establishment of a safe word between you and I that can be used at any point during the play, at which time I stop whatever I’m doing and walk away. It doesn’t matter if we’re sitting on the floor, coloring in coloring books, I’m feeding or changing you, whatever. You speak that word, I walk away, no questions asked, and whatever is left undone is your responsibility. Make sense?”
“Yeah, it’s all pretty clear,” Francesca said. It even made sense legally, too. Francesca checked the box for Level Two, signed and dated in the appropriate places, and handed the paper back to Eric the Caretaker for his review. He looked the paper over, signed and dated the right spots, and set the paper in a tray on the side of his desk.
“Okay, everything’s in order. Since I don’t know you and this is your first time, I’ll probably ask about your diaper before I check it, just until you get used to things. Annie and Sadie usually play at Level Three, so I generally treat them like highly capable toddlers… which is usually the case, anyway.”
“Hey! I resemble that remark!” Sadie snapped. Annie just giggled.
“Now that’s done, I’m going to get the oven started for pizza,” he said and all four of them went back to the sitting and dining rooms while Eric went to the kitchen. He came back a moment later and got down to business. “Okay, so first things first: Frankie, are you wearing a diaper and if so, do you need a change?”
Francesca answered: “Yes, I have a diaper on; no I don’t need a change.” She couldn’t help but blush when he asked the question, however.
Eric nodded. “Okay, fair enough. You two I’m sure need to be changed,” he said as he went to Sadie and flipped up her skirt to reveal her diaper. Francesca was surprised to see that Sadie didn’t react at all, but then she remembered that they were used to this and she wasn’t. “That’s one diaper that needs a change,” he said, and then went to Annie. He took down her pants enough to reveal her likewise wet diaper. “And that’s two, as expected. To the nursery!” he announced, and took both women to change their diapers. Francesca followed out of morbid curiosity. He started with Sadie, and he simply removed her skirt and let it fall to the floor before he hoisted her the short way up onto the changing table and had her lay down. Francesca watched as he tore open the tapes on her diaper—it was the girlishly styled Cuddles she had mentioned liking so much—and took it down just as if he were changing a real toddler. He removed the wet diaper and disposed of it before cleaning her front and back with an adult-sized wipe—he even lifted her legs like he would a baby to clean her behind, which for some reason seemed wrong to Francesca—and after that was done with, he produced another Cuddles diaper to dress her in. Francesca wondered how good they actually were in an absent sort of way as he unfolded it, lifted her bottom, and put it under her. Next came the use of baby powder, liberally sprinkled over her before he pulled the front of the diaper up and fastened it securely in place. “There we go, nice and clean,” he said as he helped her off the table. She thanked him and stood by smiling while Eric took down Annie’s pants, this time to remove them, and put her up on the changing table like he had Sadie.
It was different watching Eric change Annie’s diaper than it was watching him change Sadie’s, but Francesca put that down to the closer relationship she had with Annie than with Sadie. This time, Francesca scrutinized Eric’s movements and treatment of Annie during her diaper change, looking for signs of abuse or illicit liberty, but all she saw was what Annie had testified to earlier: gentle care in the transition from wet diaper to dry diaper. That still didn’t keep Francesca from thinking that it was… inherently wrong. He put Annie into another Bambino, and when she was finished, he led all three women out into the sitting room and went to check on the oven. Both Sadie and Annie were left with their new diapers on display, which doubtless made it easier for Eric to check them with a glance rather than a more intimate intrusion. “So, what did you think?” Annie asked.
The question caught Francesca off guard. “I… uh, what?”
“About all of this,” Annie clarified. “How he does what he does.”
“Oh, um… I’m not sure, yet. I mean, it’s still a lot to take in,” she answered, truthfully.
“Why’d you check Level Two, then?” Sadie asked.
Francesca blushed. “Because… well… maybe I wanted to leave the option open to go further,” she responded. In actuality, it was half-true. She had selected Level Two because she wanted to see if the Caretaker would truly keep to the rules as everyone had said he did. If he broke his own rules, Francesca would have grounds to charge him with sexual assault… at least, if she told him no and he pressed in, regardless. If she consented, he was free and clear to change her diaper, and Annie and Sadie were good character witnesses. She liked what she saw of him so far, but Francesca had to remind herself that there was a bigger picture to look at.
A dinner of pizza and banal conversation followed. No one brought up the subject of diapers or related items at all until Francesca could no longer help herself. “So, Eric,” she began. “All that stuff in the nursery… did you buy it or build it?”
Eric cleared his mouthful of pizza with a drink. “Believe it or not, I actually built it all myself.”
Francesca was honestly impressed and it showed clearly in her expression. “That’s amazing! I haven’t seen such… craftsmanship outside of a custom furniture gallery in a long time. You did a really good job!”
Eric was suitably flattered. “Thanks. I really appreciate that.”
“You’ll have to try the crib, sometime,” Sadie put in. “For a polite cage, I don’t think I’ve ever had a better nap than in one of them.”
Annie nodded agreement. “It’s true, they’re great cribs. They really help the whole scene work, and it’s easy to get out from the inside if you need to; none of that one-way parent control stuff most retail cribs for actual babies have.”
“Wow,” Francesca said, amazed at what she was hearing. “Do you do custom carpentry for a living?” she asked.
“Sort of,” he answered. “I’m actually a draftsman for a local construction company, but I’ve also worked with structural engineers and I made it a point to learn what all the different construction elements do so that I can improve my designs and make them easier to build.”
“Nice,” Francesca nodded, wondering how it was this guy was single; there was no ring on his finger to signify a marital attachment, and the place was devoid of pictures of anyone who might be a wife or girlfriend, unless he and Sadie were an item. Francesca figured that was a possibility considering how Sadie had pretty much politely strong-armed her way into his house.
After dinner, the ladies went to the sitting room and Eric retreated to his office, promising to come back in a little while to check diapers. When he was gone, Annie looked over at Francesca pointedly and asked, “so, do you think he’s okay?”
Francesca almost asked Annie to clarify, but she decided to answer off the cuff. “He’s a nice guy. Not sure if I want to let him change me or anything, yet, but I can see why you guys like him so much.”
“Good,” Sadie put in. “Just make sure you remember what I told you when I met you. Don’t mess this up.” Once again, there was a certain emotion to Sadie’s words that made Francesca wonder why she clung to this so fiercely.
“I promise, if I start getting weirded out or anything, that I’ll disappear quietly,” Francesca responded, even going so far as to raise her right hand as though giving an oath. Sadie said nothing; she simply nodded her approval. Annie looked at her askance for a moment.
“Anyway,” Annie said, to break the mood, but she had nothing to continue the thought after that.
“Yeah,” Francesca picked it up. “So, how long have you guys been coming here?”
“Oh my, a long time,” Annie responded. “Probably close to six months by this point, give or take.”
Sadie nodded. “Almost a year for me,” she added.
“Really? Wow,” Francesca mused. “Have you always played at Level Three or did you start at One and work up from there?”
“I actually started at Two,” Sadie explained. “I liked the duality of it; I was still in control but I could choose to give up some control if I wanted to. I went to Three after about a month.”
“I started at One, just because of what happened previously. I would just come to hang out with the others and relax and be in diapers without having to worry about people making fun of it, and that would be that. It took me like, three months to get to Three.”
“Cool. I see what you mean, Sadie, about the duality of Two; that’s why I went for it, myself. You guys have vouched for him pretty staunchly, so I figure I’m alright with him, when I get comfortable with the idea, that is,” Francesca said, and after concluding her statement she took a moment to address her bladder’s need for release. By the looks of things, Sadie was already wet again as well, but Annie looked dry. “How many other girls come here?”
“There’s about… what, eight? Ten?” Annie began. “Something like that. Most of us only come around once a month, and more will be here next weekend. I think there’s been as many as seven here at one time, before, maybe eight.”
“That sounds about right. Most just want to chill out in diapers, others want to be babied. It’s a pretty decent mix, actually,” Sadie added.
“Neat,” Francesca said. “What do you guys think of all the uproar on the Internet about this place?”
“You mean the ‘girls only’ rule?” Annie asked. Francesca nodded. “They can suck it,” she said dismissively. “There’s plenty of mommies out there who don’t mind taking care of little baby boys, and they can go there. Most of them do the whole dominatrix thing, though, but this is more of a hang-out than anything else. Plus, it’s free. Most mommies make you pay an hourly fee or something.”
“Yeah, too many mommies are really more sexual about it than they should be, or offer things that come too close to sex, whether they mean to or not. That’s not what this is about, at least for me,” Sadie added. “I mean, Eric just keeps it simple; he’s really more like a babysitter than anything else, and that’s cool by me. No strings attached, and no drama.”
Annie nodded agreement. “Every once in a while we’ll get someone who wants to rock the boat and, like, move in and be a full-time baby, but he’s totally against it. He lets them down easy, though, which is nice.”
“Better than I would handle it,” Sadie muttered.
“Yeah, but you don’t like most of the people who come here,” Annie chided.
Sadie conceded the point. “True. Well, no, not really; I just don’t like them until I know they aren’t going to be a drama queen.” She looked at Francesca. “Like you, Frankie. The first moment I saw you I was thinking, ‘oh shit, another spoiled princess,’ but then you turned out to be human.”
“Thanks… I think,” Francesca said.
“You’re welcome. In case you haven’t noticed, we’re very protective of Eric and what he does here. This is like… therapy, or a spa, or whatever, and we love it because it’s a secret place, sort of, for us to indulge in our weird secret,” Sadie explained.
“Yeah, that’s what it sounded like when I read about it on the forum. It almost seemed too good to be true.” Francesca adjusted her seated position to be more comfortable.
They chatted amiably for a few more minutes and then Annie took Francesca into the nursery to show her what else there was to offer. “Here,” she said while indicating a shelf, “are the coloring books, crayons, markers, pencils, et cetera, here is blank paper for drawing, and colored paper as well.”
“What, no painting stuff?” Francesca asked jokingly.
Annie laughed. “There used to be paints and what not, but not for long. There were, uh, some issues. People were getting painted instead.”
Francesca laughed as well. “Seriously? I bet that was hilarious!”
“It was, it was, but it was a pain to clean up.”
“I can imagine,” Francesca said while looking around. She went over to the crib and examined it for a moment before testing the rail to see how easily it slid up and down. She found that it slid down far enough for her to climb into the crib without having to exert herself by stepping onto something else, first. Once inside, she pushed the rail up all the way and noticed that Eric hadn’t been lying about the inside releases for the rail; she could get at them easily from within its confines. “This is cool!” she said, privately surprised that she was telling the truth. She laid back and looked up at the ceiling; there was, she noticed for the first time, a mobile hanging over the crib as well. “Oh wow, talk about all out.” Francesca felt small and childish sitting in the crib while wearing a sundress, onesie, and a diaper in the crib, but at the same time… it all started clicking into place why the girls loved this place so much and protected it so well, in addition to Eric’s own safeguards. Francesca felt a sense of peace and relaxation wash over her and she sighed contently. She heard as well as saw the rail being slid down and then Annie climbed in to sit at one end of the crib, but she also pushed the rail back up into its previous position. Francesca sat up as well to make room for her.
“I can tell you’re starting to get it,” Annie murmured. Francesca nodded. “It all sounds like a big conspiracy when we talk about it like this, but in a sense it really is. This place is so special, Frankie, I can’t even begin to describe what it’s done for me over the last few months, especially after what I’ve been through. It’s like it restored my faith in humanity.”
The words were a straight shot through Francesca’s heart, because it reminded her forcefully why she was here in the first place. The Caretaker whom they knew and loved was suspected of being connected with child pornography, and that was a heavy black mark to carry around if convicted. Francesca hoped there was nothing to the allegation. “Yeah, I am getting it,” Francesca agreed. “Who would have thought that going backwards almost to the beginning, even in a sort of role play would be like this?”
Annie nodded with a smile. “Who would have thought indeed? But it is, and I love it. I’ve thought about going back into diapers full time, but it’s more trouble than it’s worth, generally. I wore diapers for… I think it was four days straight before I realized what an issue it would be to go back to being dependent on them.”
“Wow,” Francesca said. “I’ve only ever worn them for… maybe a day straight?”
“Yeah, it’s less hassle on weekends to be in diapers for consecutive days than it is during the week. Trying to deal with diapers in an office environment is something I experimented with once, and that was enough. I was almost a nervous wreck the entire day, and decided it just wasn’t worth it.”
Their conversation at that point was interrupted by Sadie walking into the nursery and getting up onto the changing table, Eric close behind her.
Re: The Caretaker’s House - Updated 9/16/12
Chapter Nine
Francesca’s earlier suppositions about Sadie and Eric the Caretaker being an item were given more foundation as she observed their banter while she was changed. “You go through these so fast I should really put you in something thicker,” he teased while he wiped her bottom with a wipe.
“But, I don’t want a different diaper! I like my Cuddles,” she pouted.
Eric made her wait for it. “Hmmm, I don’t know…”
Sadie’s reaction was worthy of the Academy Awards. She looked as though her heart had been smashed to pieces and her eyes could have come from an anime drawing, such was the emotion she displayed. “Please don’t put me in anything but my Cuddles,” she begged in a mumble, doe eyes locked and loaded; right then she was a far cry from the aggressive persona Francesca had first encountered.
There was a moment’s pause, and then Eric relented. “Oh, alright,” he said and he retrieved another of the diapers to put on Sadie while she quietly cheered.
Annie nudged Francesca gently. “She does that to him all the time,” she whispered.
“She really likes to play, doesn’t she?” Francesca whispered back. Annie confirmed it with a nod and said no more; Sadie was off the changing table and walking towards them. Eric had vanished, presumably back to his office.
“What’cha doin’?” she asked as she found a piece of the crib mattress to sit on as well.
“Chilling,” Annie said. “Gabbing.”
“Ooh, anything juicy?” Sadie asked.
“I wish,” Francesca said. “No, just talking about all of this and how cool it is, really. This crib is neat.”
“That’s putting it mildly,” Sadie giggled. “I actually do sleep like a baby in this thing.”
The comparison was lame, of course; how could one sleep in an enormous crib and not feel like a toddler or an infant? But Francesca smiled and nodded and decided to relocate elsewhere in the house. “I’m suddenly thirsty,” she said as she stood up and headed out of the nursery. The truth of it was that Francesca was starting to feel uncomfortable around all of the adult baby things. She was beginning to discover her limits when it came to exposure to the fetish and all that came with it. While she was glad that Annie and Sadie enjoyed it and enjoyed it in what seemed like a responsible fashion, Francesca wasn’t sure that she could handle much more. Maybe she was just overloading herself, going in too deep too fast? She’d only been in town a few days, and all of her initial projections of weeks to accomplish her task had been completely destroyed in favor of this suddenly faster time table. No doubt it was making the brass happy, but what was it doing to her? She pondered that while she poured herself more punch and leaned against the counter to drink. Francesca also took a moment to relax and further saturate her diaper, idly wondering if the Caretaker would check her or simply ask the next time he came out to deal with diapers. Francesca also wondered if she would let him change her diaper… and then decided that she wouldn’t. She wasn’t ready to be that vulnerable for someone she had met perhaps a few hours before, especially in her current situation.
So lost in thought was Francesca that she didn’t notice Annie come into the kitchen for nearly a minute. “Hmm?” Francesca said, coming out of her reverie. “Sorry, I was… lost in thought.”
“It’s okay,” Annie said. “Still processing everything, huh?”
This woman is perceptive, Francesca thought. “Yeah, I am,” Francesca admitted. “So much of it is pretty cool, but some other parts throw me for a loop.”
Annie nodded. “Yeah, it can be overwhelming, especially all at once. That’s how it felt for me when I joined this club; when I came my first time there were a couple girls, including Sadie, playing at Level Three, so watching Eric just walk up to them, feel their diapers, and then take them to be changed was… well, shocking.”
Francesca had to know. “What did it feel like when you let him change you the first time?”
“Scary,” Annie admitted. “I was so nervous I was almost shaking. Before he started he reminded me that I could just say ‘no’ or the safe word and he would stop, but I just… went for it.” Annie got herself something to drink, as well. “He was very gentle, but also quick. He didn’t leave me exposed longer than he had to, if that makes any sense.”
Francesca felt a small measure of comfort in Annie’s recounting; so she wasn’t the only one who felt like that about something that was extremely intimate. “That’s good,” Francesca said, unsure if that was the right thing to say.
Annie giggled. “Yeah, it was. I was worried he would lord over me while he changed me like that mommy did, sort of, but he just kept it simple and once it was done he left me to my own devices. It makes me wonder,” Annie’s expression became thoughtful, “if he had some bad experiences way back that made him like this. I mean, he’ll play with you, but only within the rules… and never outside of them, either. He’s very strict, but to himself, not to us.”
“That’s a good thing, though,” Francesca said. “I mean, if he was all over me I’d probably be calling 911.”
“Point,” Annie conceded. “But… sometimes it’s not even like he’s really there… it feels like he shuts himself off, sometimes, like he’s afraid of something.”
“Maybe he’s afraid of giving the wrong impression?” Francesca suggested.
“Could be,” Annie agreed. “But I don’t know.” She brightened. “But, for what he is, he’s very good, and I like that he doesn’t take any more liberty than what you give him. That really can’t be said enough, actually. It’s unlike anything I’ve ever seen or heard of, which is probably why this place is so sought after by… well, everyone.”
“Why is that?” Francesca asked, taking advantage of an opening to learn more about the Caretaker’s House and why it was so secretive.
“Part of it is the fact that it’s for women only; a lot of men want in on that action, because a lot of women who like this sort of thing keep their heads down for fear of being stalked. Men routinely hound them for pictures or with friend requests, and it’s really off-putting. Most of the messages I get through the forum or wherever get deleted before I even look at them. Spend enough time in the system and you start learning what to filter out,” Annie explained, and then paused to drink. “The other part of it is what goes on here. It’s almost a complete age play scene. If Eric didn’t have the rules he had, or made them more restrictive to the players, it would be far more like an adult nursery instead of mostly pretending to be one.”
Francesca was confused. “What do you mean?”
“Age play is where you really knuckle down and pretend to be an age you aren’t; for us that’s usually four or younger. If you really get into it, you stop communicating in clear English, stop walking, or just walk very badly, wear baby clothes, and you’re cared for by a designated person, such as a mommy or a daddy or a nanny or a babysitter. You play with toys, color in coloring books, and generally just lose yourself in the scene. What makes this different is that while the three Levels give a general age play range, you aren’t required to behave like you’re in that age bracket. You can still talk, walk, and behave normally. Some places are all about getting into character and staying there.”
“Wow, that sounds… scary,” Francesca said.
Annie shrugged. “It all depends on how deep down the rabbit hole you want to go. It’s like I said; some people just want to relax in diapers, others want to get the full experience.”
Francesca grimaced. “Speaking of, I probably should change mine.” After her recent wetting, she was starting to feel somewhat waterlogged.
“Not going to have Eric do it?” Annie asked.
Francesca shook her head. “Too much too soon, I think.”
Annie nodded. “That makes sense. But… I have to ask,” she blurted before Francesca could start moving.
“Ask what?”
Annie took a breath. “Are you ever going to let someone else change your diapers?”
Francesca noticed that Annie seemed embarrassed to ask the question. “Maybe,” she shrugged. “Why do you ask?”
Annie fidgeted a little bit, shuffled her feet, and then as if they had given away her innermost secret, she looked down at them. “Just a thought I had, is all… um… maybe to help you get used to it… I could change you.” Annie didn’t look up at Francesca until she had finished speaking.
Francesca herself was very surprised. “That’s… um… yeah, I don’t even know how to respond to that, Annie. I mean, it’s really sweet of you to offer so I won’t feel embarrassed… but I think I’d still feel embarrassed, even if it was you. Besides, isn’t it against the rules?”
Annie shook her head. “The rules only cover what he does with us, not what we do with each other.”
Francesca let out a breath. “Annie, why are you offering this?”
“Because, Frankie, I can tell you’re getting really weirded out this whole thing. Also, I’m pretty sure you’re curious about how far you haven’t gone, yet, but you don’t feel safe letting some strange man touch you. On the flipside, you do know me, sort of, and I do know you, sort of, and…” Annie paused. “Well, I’ll just say it. Right now, it’s fifty-fifty that you’ll ever come back after tonight, and fifty-fifty that you’ll ever hang out with me ever again after tonight as well, now that you’ve seen all this and how much I get into it. Either you will, or you won’t; that’s what it boils down to. For your sake, I’m offering a safe way to get the… full experience, if you will, without making it weirder for you than it already is. Besides, fair is fair… I could use a change as well, and you could change me after if you want, just in the interest of fair play.”
Francesca started to get mad at Annie. “You’re really pushing this, Annie, almost too far.”
“I know, Frankie. I don’t want to, but… I really like you. You’re the closest thing to a real-for-real friend that I have in this messed up fetish. I mean, Sadie’s cool and all, and so are some of the others, and Eric is an absolute sweetheart. But you’re… normal, and cool, and fun.”
Francesca smiled a little bit, as Annie’s words served to relax her negative emotions. “Thanks. But… I don’t think I’m ready to go that far. Besides, don’t you think it’s a little… strange… to ask to change someone’s diaper and then tell them you like them?”
Annie rolled her eyes. “Oh come on, I didn’t mean it like that. Seriously, this is all platonic. You need a friend in this world, and I need a friend who’s… not yet as inside of it as I am. Plus, you’ve already watched me get my diaper changed, so unless you’re hiding a penis under your dress, me changing your diaper won’t be any more weird than that.”
Francesca was still opposed to the idea, but Annie’s words had weakened her resolve. It would be far less awkward to let Annie change her as opposed to having Eric do it. Worse, after watching Annie and Sadie get changed, Francesca had wondered what it would be like to be changed as well, and she had to admit to herself that this was an excellent opportunity to explore it in a fairly safe fashion. However, Francesca knew there was a price to pay for all of her curiosity regarding the diaper fetish. She decided that it was worth it. “Alright,” she relented.
Annie was very tactful in her victory. “I promise to be quick,” she assured Francesca as they walked to the nursery. As they went through the house Francesca noticed that Sadie wasn’t in the living room, and assumed that she was hanging with Eric in his office. A low buzz of conversation seemed to emanate from that direction as both women walked into the nursery. Annie shut the door behind them and turned to Francesca. “Do you want to be changed on the table or on the floor?”
Francesca surveyed the enormous changing table and moved towards it. “Table,” she answered. Why not? Might as well be official about it, she thought to herself as she climbed onto it and laid down. It was surprisingly comfortable, just like the crib. Francesca wasn’t sure if she liked how inviting it was. “Please don’t be offended if I freak out and kick you,” she joked.
Annie stuck her tongue out at Francesca and flipped up her skirt to open the snaps of her onesie. Francesca tried to think of other things while it happened, but the ripping sound that the tapes made when they were pulled open grounded her irrevocably in the present. She blushed deeply when Annie pulled the front of her diaper down, and nearly flinched when Annie started to wipe her skin. Francesca couldn’t decide whether to feel violated, mortified, or both. Mercifully, Annie was silent during the process, aside from asking Francesca to lift her bottom up so she could pull away her wet diaper and finish cleaning. “Would you like a different diaper?”
“No, thanks, Teddy is fine.”
Annie selected one of them from the shelves beneath the table and unfolded it; she again asked Francesca to lift up and when she settled back down it was onto a clean diaper. Annie sprinkled some powder over her for good measure and made quick work of fastening the four tapes. She also closed Francesca’s onesie and finished by saying, “all done.”
Francesca sat up and got off the table while Annie finished balling up her wet diaper and dropped it into the diaper pail. “Thanks,” she said when Annie was finished.
Annie smiled warmly. “You’re welcome.” Then, she hoisted herself up onto the table. “Fair is fair, you know, unless you don’t want to.”
Francesca debated for a moment before she nodded. “No, you’re right; fair is fair,” she said and motioned for Annie to lie back. Annie giggled a little as she complied. Francesca, however, was momentarily at a loss. She had never changed a diaper bigger than a Pampers for someone else; the sight of the enormous (by comparison) diaper before her was daunting. Then, she recalled what Eric had referred to Annie and Sadie as when the evening had begun: highly capable toddlers. Thinking of Annie in that context was far different, but it let her reach for the first tape with greater confidence. Soon enough she was cleaning Annie’s bottom, studiously ignoring the strangeness of the whole process as she did so, and then she was putting Annie into a clean diaper identical to the one she had been changed into so recently.
Soon enough, the change was done and Annie got off the table as well. “Thanks. Not too bad for a newbie.”
Francesca rolled her eyes while she said, “thanks,” but her smile was sincere. “It was thoroughly weird, though, on both sides. Let us never speak of it again for five minutes.”
Annie laughed and opened the door to leave the nursery. “That bad, huh?”
“Worse.”
“Cheer up, Frankie, at least now you can say you’ve done it,” Annie soothed.
“True, but I didn’t even get a lousy t-shirt,” Francesca muttered, affecting discontent.
“The one you’re wearing is much nicer and has a snap crotch.”
“Well, there is that,” she admitted as they settled companionably in the living room to talk. It was really all Francesca could do at that point and not flip out and run screaming into the night. The shock of the preceding ten minutes was slowly permeating her consciousness to the point of bringing on a headache. Francesca steered the conversation away from diapers and diaper things and asked more questions about Annie’s background and her profession; anything to avoid what she feared to be an inevitable mental collapse. The more they talked about banal, everyday things, the further away from the abyss she moved, and it was almost half an hour after they had left the nursery before Francesca felt herself return to something that approximated normalcy.
“Are you alright? You don’t look so good,” Annie said, concerned.
“It’s nothing… probably just drank too much punch and the sugar overload is playing hell with my system. Don’t ask me why I picked Hawaiian Punch… it just seemed like the thing to do and now I sort of regret it,” Francesca shrugged.
“It happens from time to time,” Annie sympathized.
Francesca spotted a clock out of the corner of her eye and looked at it fully. “Oh, wow, I didn’t realize how late it was. I actually probably should get home; I have an early day tomorrow getting settled in.” Which was accurate, from a certain point of view; she would undoubtedly be in a number of debriefings regarding the Caretaker. Now that Francesca was on the subject of leaving, she found that she was impatient to be gone from the Caretaker’s House. However, Francesca forced herself to make a courteous and thankful departure, making it a point to again compliment Eric on his carpentry skills and to say thanks to Annie and Sadie for inviting her over for a memorable evening.
“Will you be able to find your way home alright?” Annie asked.
“Sure; once I get on the main roads I should be alright,” Francesca responded as she smiled her way out the door. It required more self-control than usual for her to drive normally away from the Caretaker’s House; not before committing its location to her phone’s memory, however. When she did make it to her apartment, barely had she gotten through the door before she was quickly stripping off her sundress and onesie; she balled them together and threw them viciously across her bedroom once they were off, breathing heavily as she stood there in only her bra and diaper. Her breathing became more ragged and she curled up on her bed, cocooning herself in her quilt bare moments before she began to weep. All of her emotions, the furious anger at allowing herself to be touched like that, the righteous indignation at demeaning herself in such a way, and her sudden, irreverent hatred for all things to do with the Caretaker case manifested themselves as tears that she shed into the warm embrace. Francesca had no idea how long she cried, but when she came out of it with puffy eyes and shaking breaths she very deliberately and without fanfare removed her still-dry diaper, dumped it into the trash can, and retreated to her bathroom for a shower. Francesca scrubbed herself repeatedly from head to toe to rid herself of imagined dirt and taint from that House, and only after she felt she was truly clean did she turn off the water after her last rinse and emerge to towel off. Normal underwear had never felt so good.
Re: The Caretaker’s House - Updated 9/16/12
This story is impacting in a way few other stories are please continue.
Re: The Caretaker’s House - Updated 9/16/12
I’m thoroughly enjoying this. Please continue.
Re: The Caretaker’s House - Updated 9/16/12
Great story keep going CAN’T WAIT FOR THE NEXT CHAPTER!!! ;D
Re: The Caretaker’s House - Updated 9/16/12
Chapter Ten
The harsh screeching of her alarm woke Francesca at what felt like far too early in the morning. Mindful of what was sure to be a full day of work, she shuffled out of bed and began her morning routine. After breakfast and a shower, she dressed for work and headed to the local FBI office to report in. No sooner had she shown her badge and ID to the front desk was she summoned immediately to Agent Thompson’s office for a debriefing.
“Good morning, Agent Bowden,” he said cheerfully. “Can I offer you any coffee?”
“Yes, thank you,” Francesca replied.
“How do you like it?”
“Cream and lots of sugar, please,” she answered and settled herself into a chair. After two continuous days of extraneous padding, sitting in a chair wearing normal clothing felt different. Francesca had to remind herself that this was the way things were supposed to be, and the thought almost made her smile. She was one step closer to being free from diapers forever. Whatever enjoyment she derived from them—and Francesca would be lying if she said she didn’t at least get a little from them—was not enough to compensate for the comforting normalcy of routine underwear, let alone the feelings of responsible adulthood they gave her. She was a big girl, after all. While she did like Annie as a friend and would forever be grateful to her for so conveniently expediting her involvement in the Caretaker Investigation, Francesca did not intend to ever draw so heavily upon diapers again.
Thompson returned with a mug of coffee for her, and after she thanked him he sat behind his desk and opened a file folder sitting upon it. “I have to say, Bowden, you pulled off a real coup this weekend. Barely here three days and already you’re producing results. If North didn’t value you so highly I’d ask you to stay on permanently.”
“Thank you, sir, but I like my home branch just fine,” Francesca said pleasantly.
Thompson smiled, but there wasn’t much good humor to it; his eyes were those of a predator with a beast in view, and the beast was wounded. “To business. Do you have the address of the Caretaker’s House?” Francesca pulled out her phone and repeated the address for him, as well as describing the house should there be any mistake. Thompson wrote it all down; it would later be committed to digital memory via scan and manual typing by another agent. “Now, what can you tell me about the Caretaker himself?”
“His name is Eric, and he’s very much what his digital reputation claims him to be: polite, mannerly, very careful in his behavior, very attached to his rules. He is also very hands off of his… guests? I suppose that’d be the best term for it. A gifted carpenter: a lot of the furniture they use for their age play games is truly well built. Um… I didn’t get a last name because I was constantly attended by Annie, whom I told you about earlier and I didn’t want to blow my cover by snooping around too much. He does work as a draftsman for a local construction company, and it’s very likely, at least in my estimation, that he is romantically involved with Sadie, another frequent ‘guest’ at his place,” Francesca said. She even added in estimations for his height and weight for good measure when she remembered to do so.
Thompson took down more notes, nodding as he did so. “Excellent, excellent. That’ll be enough for us to start our background check and secure the warrant to search his place. Did you get a chance to see what sort of security or computer he runs?”
Francesca shrugged. “Looked like a fairly good quality PC with a nice HDTV for a monitor… I didn’t see an alarm panel or anything suggesting a robust security system, digital, physical, or otherwise.”
“Alright; good. Now, tell me what you think of him personally; could he be dirty?”
Francesca sighed. “Honestly, based on what I saw last night, I don’t think so. Is it possible? Certainly; who knows what he does during the day or when he’s not hosting an event. I didn’t really get a close enough… look at him, for lack of a better term, to make any sort of definitive judgment other than a maybe. Five to one says that the only pictures you’ll find on his computer are those of Sadie and some other women romping around the House.”
Thompson nodded. “That’s what our profilers suggest, but we can’t be too careful in this situation. Alright, Bowden, that’ll be all for the moment. We’ll be sending a team in to sweep his place after we get a handle on his routine and can determine the best window. Chances are we may need you to go in again, so don’t burn any bridges in the meantime.”
Francesca nodded, and accepting the dismissal she retreated from the office. “Agent Bowden?”
Francesca turned to the sound of the voice and saw a younger man she didn’t recognize, though his voice did sound familiar. She narrowed her eyes at him, and even before his ID badge resolved to show his name clearly, she asked, “Bart Clayton, right?”
Clayton smiled. “Guilty. Nice to meet you in person, instead of over the phone,” he said, offering his hand, which Francesca shook.
“Likewise,” she smiled.
“So, while you’re here we’ve got you a desk set up so you can keep tabs on any current cases you’re working back home as well as stay up to date on this one.”
“Good; I have a lot of paperwork to file,” Francesca muttered.
“I hear you. At least the chairs are comfortable and the coffee’s not too bad,” Clayton said reassuringly.
“True,” Francesca agreed, and sipped her own; untouched since Thompson had given it to her. Clayton led her to the appropriate standard desk with computer and peripherals set up to go.
“Happy typing; I’m at this extension if you need anything,” he said, gesturing to a post-it he’d affixed to her monitor’s frame.
“Thanks for everything, seriously,” she told him, adding a gentle smile.
“Anytime. We all play for the same team, after all,” he said with a winning smile before he went back to his own desk.
Francesca settled into the chair and logged into the FBI Network. She dealt with her email first, and then set about entering contact reports and updating whatever information she could to the appropriate files for the Caretaker and child porn ring investigations. While she was working, Thompson’s admonition not to burn any bridges came back to her; she pulled out her phone and sent Annie a text: ‘Hey, work is eating me alive today. How about we get together for drinks tomorrow?’
The response wasn’t long in coming. ‘I would love to! Have a great day! ’
Francesca smiled and returned to work; however, by the end of the day she had little to smile about, as she was truly exhausted from the seemingly endless mounds of paperwork that would come back to haunt her the next day, as she hadn’t been able to get through all of it, as well as the meetings, regular and spontaneous, both in person and over the phone, about her weekend’s escapades. She changed out of her working attire and into more casual wear, and then surveyed her temporary apartment with chagrin. She could almost see little yellow wisps of stink coming out of the garbage can in the kitchen, which was all the resolve that Francesca needed to empty out all the garbage cans in the apartment and take their contents to the complex’s dumpster. With that accomplished, Francesca started microwaving her dinner (ready-made meals were a fattening blessing to the FBI agent on the go) and went back to the bedroom where she tidied up a little bit before going back to the kitchen to retrieve her now-hot food from the microwave. She ate and drank in silence, and when the meal and its dishes had been dealt with, Francesca realized that it wasn’t as late as she thought it was, and while she had a lot of work to do, Francesca had no intention of letting it completely destroy her evening. However, she realized that her entire reason for being in that apartment in the first place was work, so she decided to focus on the less strenuous elements of it.
She went to her laptop and logged onto the forum to check on things. There was an amazing number of private messages in her inbox, some very well written and polite, others barely comprehensible arrangements of the alphabet, and even a number of them in different languages. The theme was immediately apparent, however: it was primarily men wanting to talk to her about diapers, diaper-wearing, or voicing hopes of getting to ‘play’ with her in diapers. She also had a number of requests to be a ‘mommy’ to a number of people, but after browsing through a number of messages she logged out of the forum, mostly to preserve her own sanity. The amount of attention had been truly staggering, and a lot of it had come at her just in the last few days. She remembered how her research had shown the disproportionate ratio of men to women in the fetish, but to be confronted with it so dramatically through the impersonal remove of the Internet caused Francesca a little bit of culture shock. She was moved to go to the bedroom and take a diaper out of the drawer she had set aside for them and look at it. She even said aloud, “what is it about you on me that is so attractive?” It was an extremely irreverent question, voiced only by her lack of understanding and frustration.
She walked to the bathroom and considered her image in the mirror. When no answers or wisdom appeared, she made a disgusted noise and went back to her bedroom. She emerged freshly diapered and returned to the bathroom, where she considered her image and its newly applied padding, barely suppressing the returning feelings of taint and disgust. “Ugh, I don’t get it!” she groused, but deep down she knew she did. It was so simple as to be complicated. Every man behind one of the messages she had received was reaching out for contact within the community, hoping to be able to find an outlet for their private passion in a likeminded person, who would likewise share in their preferred activities. The fact that the majority were men only made it worse: a lot of the men involved in the fetish wanted to associate and fraternize with women, naturally, but since women were harder to come by, that made almost any findable woman a precious thing… that would invariably be sought after by anyone who felt they had a chance. Which… was pretty much everyone; at least, that’s how it felt to her. Francesca felt a minor twinge of shame that she would never respond to any of the messages she had received from them on the forum.
There was the flipside of being an FBI agent in the mix to consider. With that in mind, Francesca made herself comfortable in front of her computer and began to read through the messages one by one. After reading a message she deleted it, especially if it was poorly written or was simply a poor soul looking for something she had no intention of ever giving. Francesca did ponder saving a few that came from men who expressed themselves clearly, confidently, and stressed a no-pressure environment, but in the end she reminded herself in every situation that in a matter of weeks she would push this site and everything that went with it out of her mind for good. She would probably never wear another diaper, or talk to Annie again once the case was closed, especially if she told her the whole truth. Annie might end up hating Francesca, in spite of their conversations. When it came down to it, Annie loved the world of diapers and age play, at least in her own way, and Francesca did not. She didn’t mind the diapers so much, especially now that she had experienced them for herself and found that they weren’t toxic, in a sense. But, could she really see them as an effective means of stress relief or comfort as Annie saw them? Francesca doubted she would, but when she stood up after clearing her forum inbox of messages, her now-wet diaper put a visible lie, in a sense, to her mental assertions. Francesca rationalized this as her simply using up the store of diapers that she had acquired, so that when her involvement in the case came to an end, she wouldn’t have wasted anything. She was, however, aware of her own double standard in that regard, because on at least one level she truly did not mind wearing diapers, and actually even would go so far as to privately admit that she enjoyed them on another, although she would never admit that openly to anyone else; it was likely Annie knew that she liked them in her own way, which was fine with Francesca. Annie was sharp in more ways than Francesca figured she let on.
However, Francesca was not yet aware of how powerful her already-created double standards and flimsy rationalizations were becoming, as well as how much she was beginning to treasure her relationship with Annie. Francesca had friends back home, sure, but with Annie there was a closeness borne out of mutual vulnerability—that had come about even before they had changed each other’s diapers—that bade fair to form a massive dagger that would lance through Francesca’s own heart just as certainly as it would Annie’s when Francesca’s true colors were inevitably revealed. It was a dark spot in the back of her mind that tormented her for a time before she went to sleep.
The next day ended up being an all-hands-on-deck sort of day; as she had been previously, the moment she reported in she was summoned into another briefing, this time with a variety of big shot agents coming in from other branches to hear her thoughts on the Caretaker, while still more attended via video conference. She answered questions and delivered opinions based on solid thought—or at least thoughts she presumed were solid—on everything to do with Eric’s suspected involvement in the child porn ring, while Thompson was grilled on the status of the search warrant and surveillance on the subject so as to establish the best time to execute said search. Francesca could almost see the tension in the air, mingled closely with anticipation. The true significance of the case began to impart itself to her as she watched a variety of heavyweight agents and administrators, both in the room and on computer screens, discuss, question, and postulate. When she was left alone for enough time to really think about it, the scope of the whole case revealed itself to her as gargantuan. She had known on paper how big it was, of course, but the presence of all these people filled her with awe; she was humbled to the point of going weak in the knees and collapsing. The outcome of the case, the lives of dozens, perhaps hundreds of children, the abbreviated futures of who knew how many perpetrators, all of it had rested on her shoulders. It came back to her then just how complete her three-day victory had been. A sudden rush of elation colored her cheeks red, but her entire emotional high was sundered before it could take flight by the sudden pronouncement from an SAIC from another office: “We’re not ready to prosecute this.”
It had the weight of law to it, and the room was silenced. “What do you mean?” another agent asked.
“Agent Bowden has given us the information we need to tie off this loose end, yes, but the case as a whole?” The speaker paused and shook his head. “We’re looking at some nasty reasonable doubt for a few subjects in different parts of the web. Even if this Caretaker guy had turned out to be dirty, or does turn out to be dirty, it doesn’t matter. We’ve got people from D.C. to Juneau foaming at the mouth for us to close the door on this thing yesterday, and we can’t. Not if we want a clean sweep. If we go too soon, we’re looking at another catastrophe like we had in Benson.”
The room stayed silent on that remark. Francesca had to search for the reference, but it came to her quickly enough: Benson had been an attempt to wrap up a small part of the porn ring with an isolated arrest because of documented actions of child abuse. The FBI had moved in and made the arrest as planned, but had added charges dealing circumspectly with the porn ring to the mix after the fact based on pictures found on the subject’s computer. The move had originally been thought sound, but the subject’s legal defense had risen to the occasion and poked enough holes in the FBI’s case against the perpetrator that had rendered the evidence to do with the porn ring declared inadmissible in court, and the perpetrator’s eventual, expected sentence of twenty-to-life had been reduced to nine months in the county jail for the ironclad abuse charges followed by two years of probation—normally, sentences to do with that crime were more severe; the lighter-than-it-should-have-been sentence stemmed from the criminal’s defense. To make matters worse, some of the people the perpetrator fraternized with on the Internet had been connected to the porn ring; they had immediately turned turtle and vanished off the grid for weeks in some cases, months for others. The case had been dealt a heavy blow in terms of time lost, and only recently was returning to the position it had been at before the colossal miscue that had been Benson.
“If we’re going to do this,” the original speaker went on, “we can’t press for it. We’ll sort out the Caretaker soon enough, but he’s not the only loose thread. We could lose up to a third of the subjects in this case if we mess this up again, all covered by reasonable doubt. We might break the ring, sure, but we don’t want to just break it. We want to kill it. People, we have to be patient. They aren’t going anywhere. We’ll get 'em. And when we do, they’ll get theirs.”
The briefing dismissed soon after that heavy pronouncement, and Francesca retreated to her desk as quickly as possible to bury herself in paperwork before she could be dragged into another briefing. While she did not at all object to rubbing shoulders with the big shots, she had work to do and the briefings were becoming tedious. The same ground was being covered and re-covered, with nothing new being added to the mix. Too, she was impatient to be alone so she could think and breathe. Francesca was feeling more and more like her head was just going to pop off and float away, or worse. Adding insult to injury, her weekend in diapers had almost caused her to spontaneously wet herself during one portion of the briefing. She had only just clamped down on the thought before it could trigger a muscle response (and thus bring her unending shame), and briefly pondered whether or not it would be wise to consult one of the FBI’s many staff therapists, or better yet, she thought darkly, just wear diapers to work. No, that would be too easy, she had decided. It would almost be like throwing in the towel before the fight had even finished the first round. However, what was the most alarming about the situation was that she was finding herself wishing she could simply just bite the bullet and be in a diaper right then. The perplexing desire caused her to sit back and examine it more thoroughly. Where had it come from? Why was it even there? Why did she find the prospect of wearing a diaper to work both enticing and desirable, in spite of all the unspoken dangers that must necessarily accompany such a risk? Minutes swam past uncounted while Francesca grappled with her own mind. With finality, she resolved to ask Annie about it when she met up with her for drinks later that night. If nothing else, Francesca thought, Annie would definitely be someone she could talk to about this sort of thing. It was another hot coal lying across her already-smoldering conscience.
Re: The Caretaker’s House -Chapters 1-10 - Updated 9/24/12
Chapter Eleven
When her working day came to an end, Francesca returned to her apartment, immediately shed her business attire and decided to have an early dinner in before meeting Annie for drinks as they had previously agreed. When she messaged Annie about where and when to meet up, she was also deliberately avoiding going near her diapers with the intent to meet Annie as they had first met: when only Annie had one on in public. She dressed in more casual attire and after finding out from Annie where they were to meet—a different place, this time, closer to Annie’s apartment than hers—Francesca departed for the short trip through town. When she arrived at the bar in question, she was pleasantly surprised that it was styled more like a café than anything else. Annie was there waiting for her, and they exchanged warm greetings and pleasantries while sitting down.
“So, how’s life at your new office?” Annie asked.
“Busy,” Francesca grumbled. “Meeting after meeting, paperwork, paperwork, more paperwork, spreadsheets… sometimes I wonder why I ever got into this gig in the first place,” she said while making a face.
Annie sensed the impending punch line. “But…” she prompted with a knowing smile.
“…Then I see my paycheck,” Francesca finished with a matching smile.
“Yes, that usually makes it worth it. I mean, there are days when I just want to set the building on fire and laugh while it burns to the ground. What office worker hasn’t thought of that at least once?”
“Well, thinking and doing are two different things, after all. I just have to remember not to bring any marshmallows to work on a particularly bad day…” Francesca said dryly.
“Amen, sister,” Annie agreed. A waiter came to get their drink orders, made what he thought were smooth leers at both women, and left to fill their requests. After he had gone, Annie resumed. “So, you’re adjusting pretty well, then?”
Francesca took a moment to let the question hang in the space between them; something in her question suggested to Francesca that Annie had a hidden meaning to her inquiry. “Yes and no,” Francesca answered truthfully. “I mean, I want to wear them to work, now. All I can see as the result of that is disaster, though.”
Annie nodded sympathetically. “Yeah, I know what you mean. I tried it once, ages back like I told you, and it was a nerve wracking experience that first day. The second day wasn’t as bad, but still.” She shrugged. “Give it a shot, if you want my opinion. Start off normal, and then maybe during your lunch break go change to finish the day out, or maybe vice versa. It really doesn’t matter which way you do it, but it will definitely save you some trouble, especially if you have a desk with locking drawers.”
Francesca hadn’t considered either of those options, and found her decision to ask Annie about the urge to wear to work to be a wise one. However, the very next thought was self-chastisement: how could she even be seriously considering wearing an adult diaper to work? Worse, not just any workplace, it was the Federal Bureau of Investigation. If she got caught, there was a slim chance she might be pulled off the case for ‘getting too emotionally involved.’ That had the potential to be a black mark on her record, something Francesca had no intention of ever allowing to happen. Their conversation turned away from diapers (which was a blessing) allowing Francesca to just talk to Annie like a normal human being. She found it strange that there was such a divide in her conscious thought about it, but shunted it aside along with the thoughts of how much it would hurt Annie when Francesca inevitably betrayed her. Instead, Francesca turned her mind to thoughts of how great their friendship was and how nice it was to have a friend in this new town. After a couple of drinks apiece, they paid their tab, left the not-so-smooth waiter a modest tip, and made good their exit from the establishment. Once outside, they talked a while more, and then Annie invited Francesca over to her place for a nightcap. Francesca found the idea of going back to her place just then dreary, so she accepted Annie’s invitation. The trip was, naturally, short, and once inside Annie breathed out a sigh of relief as though glad to be home. “I need a diaper,” she announced, and headed for her diaper closet. “If you need a change, feel free to grab one,” Annie offered and disappeared into her bedroom to change her diaper. Francesca meandered over to the closet and looked at the stacks upon stacks of diapers inside; she absently picked up an ABUniverse Cushie and examined it only to be startled by Annie’s sudden reappearance.
“That was fast,” Francesca said.
“Yeah, I didn’t wear a diaper out to drink. Even I need to step back from them every so often to make sure I don’t lose touch with reality,” she admitted, surprising Francesca. “Have you ever tried those?” Annie asked, gesturing to the diaper in her hand.
“No, actually,” she admitted.
Annie shrugged. “You should. They’re not great, honestly, but when it comes to play diapers, they can’t be beat from what I’ve seen.”
“‘Play diaper’?” Francesca repeated.
“Yeah, it’s a diaper designed mostly to look like a real baby diaper rather than be more functional like a Bambino.”
“Oh. Neat,” Francesca said, and went into the restroom to change, not even aware of how smoothly she had fallen back into the routine. If nothing else, the Cushie was adorable, and Francesca found the single tape both very cool and somewhat lacking at the same time. However, the diaper went on like it was supposed to and fit properly. Francesca took her pants and underwear back to her purse by the door; Annie likewise was without pants, leaving her surprisingly thick diaper out on display, and Francesca wasn’t inclined to rock the boat. Plus, she was resigning herself to the fact that she liked hanging out in diapers with Annie. However, she looked at Annie questioningly after noticing the unfamiliar tape panel on her diaper. “Which diaper is that?”
“It’s the Bambino Bellissimo. They should have called it the Bambino Pillow, but I’ll live,” Annie joked. “They’re pretty new.”
“How are they?”
“I like 'em a lot; great overnight or lounge diaper, not sure if I would wear it outside, though,” Annie responded.
“Cool. The panel is adorable,” Francesca said.
“Yeah, overall it’s a really cool product,” Annie finished as the women went into her living room and sat down to talk. The getting-to-know-each-other process continued as they traded more stories from college, shared work anecdotes (carefully in Francesca’s case), and chatted about life in the area. Only occasionally did the subject of the Caretaker, Sadie, or any of the other diaper-wearing people in the region come up, and then only in relation to a pertinent story recounted by Annie. While they talked, Francesca found herself forgetting about the awkward nature of their situation and attire. Even when she felt the need to relieve herself, she simply relaxed enough to carefully release into her diaper. This actually served to bring Francesca out of her comfort zone as she focused on not leaking all over Annie’s furniture: while she was comfortable enough in a Bambino to let loose (a chilling thought), the Cushie was far thinner.
“Hey, would you like something to drink?” Annie asked.
Francesca thought about it. “I don’t know; nothing alcoholic, at least.”
“I was thinking milk,” she responded.
Francesca shrugged. “Um, milk is fine, I guess.”
Annie bit her lip. “I’m going to have mine in a bottle. Would you like yours in a bottle as well?”
It took Francesca a moment to make the connection. “You mean, like… a baby bottle?” Annie nodded. “Seriously?” Annie nodded again, looking more embarrassed. Francesca was silent for a moment, and couldn’t help but enjoy the sight of Annie squirming a little under the weight of the silence between them. “Sure, why not,” Francesca finally answered, much to Annie’s surprise and delight. She disappeared into the kitchen to rustle through cabinets, and curiosity prompted Francesca to follow her. Her wet diaper sagged noticeably, but Francesca paid it no mind while she watched as Annie filled two bottles with milk. On another level, her watching was more a matter of professional and personal safety; they might be friends, but that didn’t mean Annie might not have some other ace in the hole. Annie handed Francesca one of the bottles and took the other for herself; they returned to the living room. Annie decided to sprawl across her couch so she could drink her bottle lying on her back. Francesca couldn’t help but stare in fascination; she looked away when she saw that Annie’s diaper was expanding slightly with wetness. However, while she had a bottle in her hand she had yet to drink from it. She looked at it as though seeing it for the first time, and then hesitantly raised it to her lips to drink. She drew a thin stream of milk into her mouth and wondered what the allure of drinking from a bottle was.
“Try laying back to drink,” Annie suggested.
Francesca was skeptical. “Does it really help?”
“I think it does,” was the response. Francesca looked at the bottle again, and then shrugged. She laid back on the love seat, tried to relax, and began to drink. She felt very silly, but it did seem to work. The change in angle helped the milk flow more freely, or so it seemed. Maybe it was just her imagination. It was a relaxing activity, and Francesca let herself sink into it. A slight tickle in her abdomen suggested that there was still something in her bladder so she let it flow out into her diaper.
“Hey Annie,” Francesca asked suddenly.
“Hmm?” Annie hadn’t bothered to stop drinking from her bottle to respond.
Francesca opened her mouth to speak, but hesitated and shut it again. She made two more false starts before spitting it out. “What does a dirty diaper feel like?”
This time it was Annie’s turn to be surprised. “Seriously?” But, she wasn’t going to refuse an answer; after a moment to organize her thoughts she said, “it feels like sitting in hot mud. The act itself is… well, it feels really unnatural to be doing something like that, but in reality it’s one of the most natural things we do. Um… well, it smells horrible, obviously, and it’s a real pain to clean up by yourself if you want to change like a baby and only use baby wipes.” Annie almost started drinking from her bottle again, and then hesitated to look at Francesca. “You don’t need to do that now, do you?”
“What?! No!” Francesca cried, shocked and appalled. “I was just… wondering,” she mumbled.
“You might as well do it sometime,” Annie suggested. “I mean, it is part of the experience, but rather than go through the process of changing yourself, just take off the diaper and then rinse off in the shower; it’s just easier. Eric will change poopy diapers the normal way if the mess isn’t too bad, but if it’s like, diarrhea or something like it, he takes the diaper off in the bathroom so he can get rid of it while we rinse off in the shower.”
Francesca couldn’t help herself. “I take it you’ve had first-hand experience?”
Annie blushed, but nodded. “I wanted to be really babyish one time, so I took a laxative. I think it was the wrong kind for my system, because the resulting mess almost blew out of my diaper’s leg holes.” She started laughing while Francesca looked at her in horror. “It was bad, and I mean, really bad, Frankie. Do yourself a favor and don’t overdo it on the Ex-Lax if you… give yourself a helping hand with messing your diaper.”
“Thanks. That’s… good to know,” Francesca responded, and resumed drinking her milk, almost sorry to have asked the question that started the conversation in the first place.
“Do you have any plans for the weekend?” Annie asked abruptly.
Francesca shook her head. “Not yet, why?” she responded after disengaging herself from her bottle.
“Would you like to stay over Friday night? I haven’t had a girl’s night in ages.”
Francesca thought about it, and stalled while she sorted the professional ramifications. “That… sounds like a really good idea, actually,” she said, then remembered what she had been told, and what would now become her excuse: don’t burn any bridges. “So yeah, I’m in.”
“Yay! We’ll order in, watch movies—”
“Give each other manicures and pedicures?” Francesca put in.
“Well, duh! I mean, I know it’s like, totally girly, but seriously. I haven’t had a good manicure in ages. Maybe I’ll color my hair, too…” Annie thought aloud, considering possibilities. Francesca giggled quietly. The idea reminded her that she hadn’t had a girl’s night of her own with any friends or colleagues in a long time. Why not? She thought.
“Did you want to invite Sadie?” Francesca asked.
The expression on Annie’s face showed that she hadn’t thought of that, and she said as much. “Did you want to invite her?” Annie asked, in a tone that suggested she’d be fine with not inviting Sadie over.
Francesca shrugged. “I don’t know, really; I mean, the idea just popped into my head. Sure, she’s a little abrasive and kinda off-kilter, but I can put up with her. If you don’t want to invite her that’s fine, but I expect that there will also be a heavily infantile theme to go with it, because, you know, diapers…”
Annie mulled it over while she finished off her bottle. “Hmmm. You know, now that you mention it, that’s not really a bad idea. I’ve never really seen Sadie be a girly-girl, before. She might actually be good at it.”
Francesca laughed. “Yeah, I know what you mean. But, I kinda want to get to know her a little bit better and prove to her I’m not some monster out to destroy her, or ruin Eric or something like that.”
Annie smiled. “Yeah, she’s really protective of this whole thing. She hates anyone or anything that might rain on her parade.”
A dozen statements came to Francesca’s mind, but she held back. “Yeah, but in her defense, it is a pretty cool. I mean, hang out with some random guy while in diapers, he feeds you, changes you, doesn’t try to rape you… I’d probably try to kill someone if they were ruining that for me.”
“Good point,” Annie responded.
That got Francesca thinking. “So, what about some ground rules? I mean, I trust you, and I trust Sadie to a point, but we’re not at Eric’s, so we don’t have that… umbrella, I guess.”
Annie made a face while Francesca nursed at her bottle. “Well, okay, some obvious basics are stay in diapers unless you don’t want to wear them, um, don’t leak, and since you brought it up, Frankie, don’t poop your diaper unless you’re prepared to immediately change yourself.”
Francesca almost snorted milk out her nose laughing. “Okay, yeah, that’s fair.”
“Also, if you want to be changed rather than changing yourself, ask. You can offer, of course, but it’s better to ask. Also, you can bring your own diapers if you really want to wear a specific kind, otherwise I have more than enough to go around for three women for like, a week, so don’t worry about me running out. I have… probably over two hundred diapers at least in that closet, and that’s just Bambino. I’m not counting the ABUs or whatever else is in there… it’s a lot of diapers.”
“Yeah, that is a lot,” Francesca agreed. “Do you just… order so regularly you have a big stash?”
Annie shook her head. “No, I generally buy two cases at a time of a given diaper, especially if I really enjoy wearing it. It’s harder to enjoy something when you use it so routinely that it runs out in a fixed amount of time, so I get more enjoyment by having more around, thus no fear of running out. It’s expensive, but I usually, like, binge once every other month, just to stock up. If you figure that I use two diapers a day during the week and as many as ten across both weekend days, that’s twenty diapers a week, so that’s two bags of Bambinos plus half another bag.”
“Yeah, I can see where you’d need a stash that big,” Francesca agreed.
“Speaking of, would you like to try a Bellissimo?” Annie asked. “You look like you could use a clean diaper.”
Francesca nodded. “Mmhmm,” she said around her bottle; the milk was getting warm and the bottle was almost empty. She finished it just as Annie was coming back with the diaper, wipes, and powder. “I know it’s not our girl’s night, yet, but I’ll ask anyway: would you like me to change you?”
She was tempted, but decided against it. “No thanks,” she said as she got up and accepted the offered diaper and supplies from Annie. “It was sweet of you to ask, though,” she said with a smile as she went to the bathroom. She heard “you’re welcome” as she closed the door.
The Cushie diaper plopped to the floor the instant Francesca ripped open the tapes; she wiped herself clean, and then dealt with the used diaper before unfolding the new one. If she thought that the Teddy diapers were big, she was unprepared for the size of the Bellissimo. “Wow,” she whispered as she sprinkled powder into the diaper before situating herself on it. After pulling it up and lying back, she struggled with the tapes. She got them fastened, of course, but she wasn’t sure they were tight. “Hey, Annie?”
“Yeah?” Annie called back. Francesca got up and left the bathroom, taking her wet diaper with her to throw away. The thickness of the Bellissimo seemed to alter her gait in a more pronounced fashion than any other diaper she’d worn. “You can put that in the kitchen garbage. What’s up?” she asked, when Francesca came back.
“I don’t think my tapes are tight,” she explained. “Could you please… um… fix them?”
“Sure,” Annie said; Francesca walked over and lay down in front of her, and Annie made short work of fixing her diaper; Francesca found herself looking forward to Friday.
Re: The Caretaker’s House -Chapters 1-11 - Updated 10/5/12
sounds like it is time for a dream sequence :
i love this story keep up the good work ;D
Re: The Caretaker’s House -Chapters 1-11 - Updated 10/5/12
Chapter Twelve
“There,” Annie said after she was done fixing Francesca’s diaper. “You weren’t too bad about it, but these diapers take some getting used to. I don’t know why, but they do. I love 'em, though.”
“Thanks, Annie,” Francesca said as she sat up. Now, she really started to feel like an overgrown toddler. She squeezed her legs closed a few times and at each time she was rewarded by a pillow-like ‘fluff’ and the obligatory crinkle.
“Sure thing,” Annie said as she moved back to the couch and sat down. Francesca happened to see a clock and sighed.
“I should get home; work tomorrow,” she muttered, genuinely downcast. “I’ll have to have you over for dinner or something at some point,” she said, forgetting that she might have sensitive things all over her apartment. “You can raid my paltry collection of diapers for a change,” she said.
“Ooh, nice pun,” Annie said. Francesca moved to the door and gathered up her purse, pants, and shoes, the latter of which she put on. She got her keys out of her purse and tossed her pants over her arm as she made to leave. “Um, Frankie?”
Francesca turned back to Annie, expecting the sixty-four-thousand-dollar question. She wasn’t disappointed. “What’s up?”
“Um… you’re pants? Don’t you want to… put them on before you go?”
Francesca shrugged, and smiled wickedly. “Nah. It’s a short walk from here to my car, and a short walk from my car to my door. My pants probably won’t fit over my diaper, anyway.”
Annie simply stared at Francesca in awe. “Well, you go, girl! Thanks for coming over! Call me or text me tomorrow about dinner plans, okay? I’ll let you know if I have any ideas about Friday.”
“Sounds good,” Francesca said, and opened the door to leave. She forced herself to remain calm. “Have a good night!” she said cheerfully as she walked away. Her diaper crackled like thunder in her ears, but she ignored it and deliberately kept a casual pace. When she entered the stairwell, she heard Annie’s door close, and then she was well and truly on her own. She kept her composure down the stairs and down the hall to the side exit—she wasn’t sure she could handle the main door—and then she was outside, standing in plain sight wearing a shirt, a diaper and precious little else. Her heart blasted in her ears, but she kept up her pace. Francesca managed to get to her car and get in it—thanking God all the while for keyless entry—without losing it. The drive to her apartment was calm by comparison. However, when she got there she still had to get back out of her car and repeat the process to get to her door. She sighed, and gratefully pulled into an empty space next to the sidewalk. She took a breath, got out, started walking, and managed to hold back tears as she did so. The worst was when she got into the complex’s stairwell; she heard voiced above her, people walking her way, and she became frantic. There was no place to hide but under the stairwell, so under the stairwell she went. Fortunately, it was a closed-frame design, meaning no one would be able to see her unless they were looking. She got underneath it as swiftly and quietly as possible as heavy footfalls and loud male voices began to come down. Francesca wedged herself as far back as she could go and held a hand over her mouth to keep from screaming or breathing too heavily. When the footfalls of the men descending came onto the last flight, the whole assembly shook with each step. With her heart in her throat, Francesca stayed as still and quiet as she could and waited, willing them all the while to just get out of the building. The door opened and one man left, but two more—maybe three?—didn’t.
Francesca was trapped under the stairwell, uncomfortably folded up against the wall and under the steps as she could be while two guys she didn’t know or recognize talked about sports. One of them stepped into view, and her eyes went wide with terror. All she could see of him was his shoes and the ankles of his pants, but his body posture told her he wasn’t looking at the stairs. All she could think in her head was, ‘go away, go away, go away,’ and ‘now would be a really awkward time to poop my diaper,’ which was a thought so utterly out of left field that she was worried she might need to do just that. She couldn’t deny that the concept was very intriguing from an experimental point of view: she’d already slept in diapers, wet them, been changed by someone else, spent an entire day and more in diapers, but that was one thing she hadn’t done. She was embarrassed to admit to herself that she wanted to try it. However, right then and there would have been fatal, even if she had to go. She was so afraid that she was actually trembling.
The voices wouldn’t go away. They stayed there, standing, talking, laughing uproariously at jokes and anecdotes that Francesca found extremely lame, and that was in spite of her current fear. Every time the man in her view took a step or shuffled his feet while they talked, Francesca held her breath and froze. One of them stepped so close to her that she felt herself begin to shake, and also to wet her diaper. Finally, however, they left and the door crashed shut behind them. Francesca let out a breath and collapsed from her tightly rolled shape under the stairs. Her relief was so powerful that she actually began to flood her diaper. After a minute to make sure she was well and truly done and that no one else was coming, she got out from under the stairwell and made haste to her apartment without being seen, though her wet diaper crinkled mightily all the way. When she got into her apartment, she locked the door and slid down onto her bottom against it. That had been too close, she thought to herself while she regulated her breathing to calm down. She had only meant to shock Annie with her brazen act, not actually be seen, but, she chastised herself, being seen was a possible consequence of stepping out into a public setting. Francesca took her shoes and socks off and went immediately to bed, not at all caring whether or not she needed a diaper change; she was asleep almost at once.
By some miracle Francesca woke before her normal alarm time, and in a sudden rush of adrenaline she hurtled into full consciousness and worried that she was late for work; only after she saw a clock did she not panic and start to relax. She checked her diaper, remembered that she had wet it the previous night, found that it wasn’t terribly wet and decided to use it again. But, as she was relaxing herself to wet her diaper again, she felt that wetting wasn’t all she needed to do. The thought appeared at once: this was her chance, a chance to experience a dirty diaper in a convenient way; she would have to get showered to go to work, so why not? What, she thought to herself in reasonable tones, would be the harm?
No! She didn’t need to let her curiosity get the better of her like this! She was still an adult, after all. But, she was an adult who needed to evacuate a night’s worth of waste one way or another and in the end, her curiosity won out.
Francesca relaxed and let herself start to pee while standing in her bedroom. Her diaper crinkled as it took on the extra weight, but Francesca had never intentionally defecated into anything other than a toilet for as far back as she could remember. Was it better to simply relax and let it happen like a baby, or squat so she could push better? She tried to relax, first. She felt things moving within her as her bladder’s flow trailed off and stopped. Francesca made a few false starts for her back end before she made a disgusted noise and walked out of her bedroom and into her kitchen to get breakfast. Cereal was the order of the day, and she sat down to eat it in a conflicted state. While sitting, she relaxed her bowels again to let them proceed, but whenever she felt that there was progress, there would be a barrier in the article of the hard surface of her chair. Still, Francesca felt that she was approaching the point of no return; her mess was almost sure to spill out into her waiting diaper the instant she stood up. She couldn’t help but find the thought exciting. She was about to poop her diaper deliberately, and… she was excited about it? “Oh God, what is wrong with me?” she muttered to herself. Nevertheless, she resolved to see the event through, even though her heart was beginning to beat faster and faster, to the point where she was finding it difficult to continue breakfast.
She prepared her body, or so she thought, as she finished her cereal. When she stood to take the dishes to the sink, she was surprised to find that her body aborted at the last moment. When she stood at the sink to rinse them, however, this time there was no turning back. Francesca put a hand over her mouth as she felt the mass begin to exit her body, and involuntarily she began to squat to help it along. Then it happened; in a rush it all came out at once and Francesca was suddenly wearing her first dirty diaper in over two decades. The mess hung in her diaper and pressed against her skin uncomfortably. When she stood back up, she kept her legs apart as though trying to avoid something disgusting while her face contorted into an expression of disgust. But, she put her hands on the sink and righted her posture so that she was standing straight and tall, and experiencing everything that happened when you did that to a mess-filled diaper. It felt immense, and it pressed against the backs of her thighs; she felt as though her skin outside her diaper was being soiled just by proximity. Francesca sighed. “Well, I wanted this… might as well… get the download,” she said with a grimace. Francesca was sure that she would never do something like this to herself ever again after this point. Worse, the smell of her deed was beginning to emanate from her now heavily-laden diaper. Francesca tried to ignore it. She walked around her apartment tidying things up for no reason other than to deliberately push back changing out of her diaper as she so desperately wanted to. Francesca even went so far as to dribble a thin stream of urine into her diaper to prove the point that she was going to stay in her own mess for a little longer.
She did everything but sit down in it over the next little while. She bent, stretched, twisted, turned, all the while experiencing the terrible feeling of a loaded diaper. Finally, she had to get ready for work and when she went into the bathroom, she carefully lowered herself onto the floor, but couldn’t bring herself to smash the mess against her bottom at all, and hurriedly stripped out of the fouled garment. She emptied the larger contents into the toilet and flushed them away before wrapping the diaper up as tightly as possible and burying it in the trash can. She was in the shower moments later; steam clouded the bathroom swiftly as she vigorously scrubbed herself, her cheeks red with sudden shame. Francesca couldn’t help but feel disgusted with herself every time she looked down and still saw brown water rinsing away. It took a while before Francesca felt clean, but she eventually felt clean enough to get out of the shower and finish getting ready for work. As she was leaving for the office some time later, she carried along an extra attaché case that she meant to leave in her car in case she felt the need: it was a spare diaper and changing supplies in zip-lock bags. She didn’t have the courage to leave the apartment while wearing a diaper so soon after narrowly getting back into the apartment without being discovered. However, Francesca was becoming more and more of a thrill seeker as she binged on her diapers… which was extremely dangerous, and she knew it. However, the reverse of this realization was the knowledge that she wanted to experience almost everything to do with wearing and using adult diapers before she gave it up for good and all and moved on with her life, likely soon after the case was closed and she returned to her home office.
Only by great indecision and a fear of discovery did Francesca make it through her working day without retreating to her car to fetch that attaché. It took a great deal of effort to focus on her work, though; almost at every turn she was confronted with another element that reminded her of Annie, Sadie, Eric, the changing table, diapers, bottles… she sighed as she sorted through documents and appended details to the documents that would eventually form the basis for her final report on her involvement with the case.
“You alright, Bowden?” a voice spoke, startling Francesca. She looked up to see Agent Thompson standing over her. “Sorry, didn’t mean to startle you.”
“It’s okay. I’m fine. Just… paperwork,” she said, gesturing to her computer monitor.
Thompson nodded sympathetically. “The nemesis of every agent, but a necessary evil,” he said, and was silent for a moment while Francesca nodded quietly, waiting for Thompson to get to the point of his visit to her desk. “How’re you holding up with this case?”
“It’s going well. My… C.I.? Friend? I don’t know what to think of her. We get along really well and she’s been a great resource for getting me close to the Caretaker,” Francesca answered.
Thompson nodded and looked down at the floor for a moment before back to her. “That’s good, but that wasn’t what I asked. Naturally, I’ve looked at your personnel file, and while you’ve done good work, this is your first real undercover assignment. Everyone’s first time isn’t all roses and cupcakes, Bowden. You’ve got a strange one on your plate, a dangerously strange one.”
Francesca was confused. “I’m not following.”
“Simple,” Thompson said. “It isn’t drugs, murder, prostitution—well, that we know of, at least—or any of the other major crimes that we routinely prosecute, at least not directly. That’s why it’s dangerous. It isn’t something you can easily draw a distinct line in the sand about and then stay to the safe side. I’ve seen some agents work cases that were similar to this, some in white collar crime, where the agent got way too close to the subject, and almost caught an acute case of Stockholm Syndrome. That’s what I’m getting at. You’re doing a hell of a job, Bowden, but make sure you remember which side of the line you’re on is what I’m saying.” Thompson wasn’t speaking to her gruffly, but softly and as privately as he could in a busy office. Francesca suspected that he spoke with experience. “Because, the worst situation in this case is that they’re all dirty, and we have to take them all down. The worst feeling in the world to have is when your confidential informant, who is more a friend than an enemy, looks at you with that combination of pain and betrayal as you pull your badge and read them their rights.” Thompson picked up on Francesca’s suspicion, or so it seemed to her. “Yes, I am speaking from experience. There’s a guy in the slammer doing fifteen years that I had to bust because he was dirtier than we thought. He hates my guts. Not because I’m a fed, but because I burned him, turned on him, knifed him in the back, essentially. Hopefully, you won’t have to do that to your friend. The way this case is going, you probably won’t have to. But, it’s something to remember.”
“Thanks… I think,” Francesca said after Thompson stopped talking.
Thompson made a face. “Yeah, I know I suck at these speeches. But it had to be said. You’re looking tired, and not because you’re worn out; it’s because you’re getting too close thinking that’ll mean you’ll do a better job. You’re half-right. Remember to come up for air every now and again and you’ll be okay.” With that, he turned and walked away.
Francesca couldn’t help but be amused at Thompson’s attempt to be reassuring, but she knew he meant well. She also wanted to know about the case he worked where he had to bust the guy who now hated him, but that was professional curiosity, something to talk about at the water cooler with everyone else. Talking about the higher-up agents was a time-honored tradition in the FBI, as it was at almost any other office building in America, if not the world over.
When Francesca got back to her apartment that evening, she was greeted by the faint smell of her dirty diaper from that morning; she immediately emptied all of her apartment’s garbage cans and took one large bag out to the dumpster; she was embarrassed to realize that most of her garbage was used diapers. However, her embarrassment was not enough to deter her from changing into a diaper as soon as she got back upstairs. Francesca also declined to put something on over her diaper, and instead fixed herself a light dinner.
While she ate, she was troubled by conflicting thoughts of duty and desire, friendship and honor, selfishness and sacrifice; slowly her stomach closed to anything else while she dealt with the increasingly troubled nature of her mind. Finally, she set down her fork in defeat. Tears welled in her eyes almost immediately—she buried her head in her hands and cried. Whether it was for moments or for minutes, Francesca did not care. Now she understood, she thought to herself bleakly. Whenever she saw agents at the conclusion of a difficult undercover case—or any undercover case, for that matter—they always came in looking like they had just come back from war. Francesca could sympathize. She understood that she was being pulled in two different directions, one way towards the law-defending life she had chosen for herself, and the other way towards a life that left that world to one side in favor of a carefree return to a time when life was far, far simpler, such as it never would be again.
Grimly, Francesca stood from the table and went to where she kept her notes and documents on the Caretaker Case. She rifled through them until she found her original notes from her very first day on the case. The three questions she had written down for herself regarding how far she was willing to go seemed to come from another world; she let her fingers brush over the plastic shell of her diaper as she recalled the reluctance she had felt when she had written the question asking if she was willing to wear adult diapers. Now, she was finding it hard to imagine life without them. Yes, they were disgusting when they were heavily saturated, yes, they smelled bad after a little while, no, she didn’t really need them at all, but yes, she liked to wear them.
Francesca took out a clean sheet of paper and hunted down a pen amongst her things. The ink on the page was like writing fire into stone. Almost unconsciously, the need to release her bladder was met by a subtle relaxation followed by her diaper expanding slightly.
She couldn’t do it.
There it was, plain as the sun in the sky on a clear day. Francesca Bowden, FBI agent with a bright future ahead of her, did not want to stop wearing diapers. In fact, she wanted desperately to wear them all the time. She wanted to be friends with Annie and have slumber parties and go out and have fun and forget all about this nonsense of being an adult every waking moment of the day. She even wanted to be friends with Sadie, and maybe the other diaper girls who came to the Caretaker’s House. She might even let herself be taken care of by the Caretaker himself. It was a world unlike anything Francesca had ever heard of before, the nearest thing to heaven that wasn’t a tropical beach far and away from the speed and ferocity of civilization. It was as simple as the diaper taped round her waist. It was bliss.
However, her vision clouded again and fresh tears dripped onto the page she had written laboriously her own declaration of intent. Sniffing them away, she crumpled the paper into a ball and dropped it onto the floor.
No matter what, she knew she wouldn’t get what she thought she wanted.
Re: The Caretaker’s House -Chapters 1-12 - Updated 10/18/12
Still loving it, still coming back for more! Keep it up buddy!!!
Re: The Caretaker’s House -Chapters 1-12 - Updated 10/18/12
This is amazing! One of the best stories in recent memory and probably my current favorite!
Re: The Caretaker’s House -Chapters 1-12 - Updated 10/18/12
Having read some of your other work, I expected this to be another fantastic story. I surly wasn’t disappointed. This is a wonderful story that has me totally involved. The only criticism I could come up with is a very minor point but for me bothersome. The Special Agent in Charge is the SAC the Assistant Special Agent in Charge is the ASAC.
Having read this story caused me to recall one other you wrote. The Princess and the Garbage Man. I don’t recall ever reading the ending to that great story though. Did you ever finish that one and I just missed it?
Re: The Caretaker’s House -Chapters 1-12 - Updated 10/18/12
The reason behind my use of SAIC for Special Agent in Charge was due to some book or books I read years and years ago that had the SAIC acronym… either that, or that’s how I interpreted it when I started writing this story. Thanks for the clarification.
I was trending The Princess and the Garbage Man towards a conclusion sometime back in 05-06, but decided against it in favor of starting fresh with Circumstances and a number of short stories; though I have occasionally thought about going back to finish that story, I’ve long since decided against it, instead considering options for a sequel that would bring a form of closure rather than trying to get back into the headspace I was occupying when I wrote the majority of that work. I do appreciate your comments and that you’ve enjoyed this story and my other work; I hope you continue to enjoy it as I track towards completing it before year’s end.
Re: The Caretaker’s House -Chapters 1-12 - Updated 10/18/12
Chapter Thirteen
Friday came at last, and with it a level of anticipation that seemed to grow with each passing moment, and having the unfortunately paradoxical effect of making the day drag by for Francesca. She had met with Annie and Sadie the night before for drinks and to talk about the plan for the evening and also the ground rules. Francesca had also ordered herself some ABU diapers for the fun of it, and as soon as her working day was done, she planned to change into one before going over to Annie’s. They had all agreed to start the party diapered, and Sadie had actually suggested the ‘ask, don’t offer’ rule for diaper changes before Annie or Francesca could bring it up, which Francesca took as a positive sign. Even more positive was Sadie’s positive reaction to the night and to being invited. She looked genuinely happy for the first time since Francesca had met her, and seen her outside of Eric’s very special house. The art gallery was a close second, but Francesca believed that the somewhat-special nature of the evening was going to be as good for Sadie as it was for her. Francesca could barely sit still at her desk she was so excited.
Fortunately, as it was Friday no one wanted to do anything that would compromise knocking off on time (or a little early) unless it was really important. No one wanted to be ‘that guy,’ least of all Francesca. She still worked, of course, as did everyone else. But, when quitting time arrived at last, there was a polite but swift exodus from the building, with some agents and workers here and there grouping up to share plans for the night or make them. Francesca still didn’t have any real connection with the agents of the branch, and while Bart Clayton was a nice guy, Francesca wasn’t inclined to encourage him. He seemed puppy-like enough as it was.
When Francesca got back to her apartment, she did not rush straight to her bedroom for the comfort of a diaper, but instead went about putting away her work clothes and selecting casual attire before she went about putting on one of her new Super Dry Kids diapers. The noise factor with the diaper was far greater than it was with any of the Bambinos she had worn to that point, but it was also the one adult diaper Francesca had seen that screamed ‘baby’ at first sight. It was wonderfully childish. A pity they couldn’t be as thick as Bambinos, she thought to herself, but the website for the diaper even specified that it was designed more for appearance rather than functionality.
As she got closer and closer to leaving, Francesca debated whether or not to put together a diaper bag for herself, and then realized how absurd the thought was. She was a grown woman! Why would she need a diaper bag? However, the logical response was that she was wearing a diaper, and might need more of them. The counterpoint to that was Annie’s enormous stash: she had made it a point to invite both women to come and make free of her stocks as they saw fit, so long as they didn’t abuse the privilege. Francesca decided against bringing diapers of her own with that thought in mind. She did, however, pack a few things into a small duffle, going so far as to include a complete set of clothes, plus normal underwear, should the need arise. Naturally, she also packed away her gun and badge, because the Federal permit to carry a concealed weapon she possessed was also an invitation to do just that. Also, it made her feel like a somebody when she had a ‘friend’ close by. Francesca then dressed in casual wear best described as fashionable pajamas and headed for Annie’s apartment.
When she arrived and parked, she saw Sadie likewise pulling in. Francesca waved to her and Sadie came her way; she was also carrying a duffle bag. “Hey, Frankie!” she called cheerfully as she drew closer.
“Hi, Sadie,” Francesca answered with matching cheer.
“You been looking forward to tonight as much as I have?” Sadie asked.
Francesca nodded. “Probably,” she answered, and then frowned. “I thought you liked it best at Eric’s, though.”
Sadie nodded. “I do, yeah, but that’s when I’m playing. This? This is just going to be fun. I mean, don’t get me wrong, I have a lot of fun at Eric’s. I mean… a lot of fun,” Sadie explained, emphasizing ‘a lot’ very specifically. “But, that’s a special kind of fun. This is going to be, like, normal fun, but with people I can really trust.”
“Oh,” Francesca answered. “Well, since you put it that way, I might be looking forward to tonight more than you have,” she teased as they walked up the stairs after being buzzed in.
“Dream on,” Sadie retorted just before they got to Annie’s door.
Annie was there to greet them and ushered them in right away. “I ordered pizza, and it’s in the oven keeping warm,” she quickly explained. “Are you guys as excited as I am about tonight?”
Francesca started laughing while Sadie rolled her eyes. Annie looked perplexed and crestfallen until Sadie explained: “Frankie and I had the same conversation walking up here. Don’t sweat it, sweets, we’re as stoked as you are.” Francesca was nodding agreement, which became a yelp of surprise as Sadie quickly pulled down her pajama pants. Francesca, overcome by instinct to preserve her modesty, fumbled for her pants a moment before abandoning the effort when she remembered why they were there.
“Was that really necessary?” Francesca whined.
“Yes,” Sadie declared, and then yanked down Annie’s pants to reveal her wet diaper, and then she finished it off by pulling down her own to reveal a likewise-used diaper. By that point, the only real differences between the three women were their tops and their diapers: Annie was wearing a Teddy, Sadie had on a Cuddles, and Francesca was wearing a Cushie. Likewise, both Sadie and Annie were wet while Francesca was still dry. As if picking up on Francesca’s thought, Sadie prodded her diaper. “I need to be changed,” she said. She looked up at Francesca. “Will you change me?”
Francesca was shocked. “What?” she repeated dumbly, her surprise overloading her senses.
“Will you please change my diaper?” Sadie repeated, annoyed. “Simple question.”
Francesca gaped at her, completely lost for words. However, this was one of the rules, she remembered… and it was one of the ways, perhaps the only way, the playing field would be leveled and they could spend the night as equals, rather than awkwardly defending against each other.
“Uh… okay,” Francesca responded at last. “Um, Annie where should we change diapers?”
Annie shrugged. “Living room’s fine; more space there, anyway.”
“Living room it is,” Sadie said and walked that way. She spread herself out across the floor and waited for Francesca to come in. Francesca, remembering where Annie’s diaper closet was, went to it and perused the ample selections for a few moments before her eyes settled on the enormous Bellissimo diapers. With a momentarily-indulged wicked smile, she selected one of them and also collected wipes and powder. Sadie was still lying patiently on the floor and Francesca went right to work. She got past the resurgent thoughts of weird and taboo by thinking of it as changing the diaper of a charge she was babysitting. It didn’t help much, but it did help. She distracted herself from focusing too much on the strange nature of changing a grown woman’s wet diaper by focusing on the diaper itself and its build; the Cuddles diapers were built to mimic Huggies more than Pampers; there were waistbands front and back, there wasn’t an abundance of graphical covering aside from the bands and leg gathers being pink, and a collection of hearts and feminine-styled shapes on the front tape panel. The interior was a plain white, also, which Francesca couldn’t help but notice as she wiped Sadie’s skin clean.
After she pulled Sadie’s diaper out from under her bottom and rolled it up, the action of unfolding the Bambino Bellissimo diaper got Sadie’s attention; she said nothing, however. Francesca put it under her bottom without resistance, sprinkled powder into it, and taped it up smartly. “There; all done,” she said as Sadie sat up.
Sadie herself was quiet for several moments as she adjusted to the feel of her new diaper. “This thing is huge, man,” she said at last.
“I know. Cool, huh?” Francesca chirped.
She made a face. “I don’t know, yet. But, thanks for the change.”
“You’re welcome,” Francesca responded, and the trio went into the kitchen to eat pizza. The melted cheese and beer flowed freely as they loosened up by eating and drinking, which caused Francesca to relax far more quickly than she had anticipated. In a moment of lucidity, she worried that she might be getting drunk, but a quick check of the table in front of her only revealed one empty beer bottle and another half-full in front of her plate, which had once been full of pizza and was now mostly empty. No, it wasn’t intoxication. It was friendship. In one sense, that was the more dangerous realization, but Francesca pushed that out of her mind. She was there to have fun, relax, and be a girl, diapers be worn, and the FBI be damned. For once, Francesca was throwing protocol out the window and just unbending herself. It was a great relief, and immensely liberating, especially as she didn’t have to break the thread of her conversation with Annie and Sadie to use the restroom; she had a diaper for that. She also knew that her diaper wouldn’t last past dinner, and that if she didn’t get it changed, one way or the other, she would leak. The question was: which way did she want to jump? Sadie had built a bridge by asking Francesca to change her diaper, and Francesca was very conscious of the olive branch she had been offered.
While she was considering that, the topic at the table had turned to diapers and some experiences some of them had had wearing them that hadn’t previously been shared. Annie shared a time when one of her first experiments with a messy diaper caused by laxative use had resulted in her diaper leaking, Sadie told a story about a party she had attended while wearing a diaper and the subsequent theft of the skirt she had worn over it, and Francesca shared her story about bringing a diaper to work but not having the brass to change into it. As she was finishing her story, she made a suggestion. “You know, I was thinking,” she began, “about the rules for tonight, and I had a thought. Rather than ‘ask, don’t offer,’ what about a round robin?”
Annie looked intrigued. “What do you mean?”
“Well, firstly, keep the ‘ask’ part in place, so no one gets embarrassed, or anything, but with a round robin, each of us has a dedicated changer. Like, I just changed Sadie’s diaper, right? So, now Sadie changes your diaper, Annie, and you change mine. Maybe for fun we switch it up and reverse the order tomorrow or something.”
Annie seemed to favor the idea as she nodded approvingly. Sadie likewise supported it: “let’s take it one step further, though,” she said, and then made her suggestion. “When we play at level three at Eric’s, we don’t have to ask: he just checks us and if we’re wet enough or messy, he just takes us into the nursery to change us. I say we get rid of the ‘ask’ part and just treat each other like we’re playing at level three.”
“There’s a catch, though, Sadie,” Annie responded. “The ‘ask’ part is what keeps this more of… how do I put this… adult? Mature? Something like that; I think you know what I mean.” Francesca nodded, but said nothing. “So, if we take that away, what’s the difference between here and Eric’s?”
“Simple.” Sadie took a sip of beer before continuing. “Eric’s not here, and we’re all diapered. When we’re there, he’s the clear-cut daddy figure who is completely in charge, he’s got the rules and the organization, and all that shit, and we don’t. We’re just three chicks, and I like Frankie’s idea. The playing field is leveled, no one’s above anyone else, and no one plays favorites, except Frankie, but that’s okay, because she knows you better than she knows me.” Francesca blushed at the accuracy of Sadie’s statement. “You did cover it nicely by suggesting the order reversal tomorrow, though. That was big.”
“Okay, so, now what?” Annie asked. “We’re changing the rules, by common agreement, right?” Both women nodded. “Okay, so what’s the new catch? Do we just check and change each other on a whim?”
“Well, I don’t know about you two, but I’m not going to sleep in a wet diaper unless we all get too drunk to change,” Francesca said, causing Sadie to almost spit beer across the table and Annie to giggle so badly she snorted. “Seriously, though. I think we all know the capabilities of these diapers enough to say, ‘hey, so-and-so needs a change.’ Also, we can still ask for a diaper change if we feel we’re too wet or just start to get uncomfortable, and we can still say, ‘no thanks, not ready for a change, yet.’ We are adults, after all, even if pissing ourselves is tonight’s common past-time.”
Annie nodded. “I’m down if you two are,” she declared.
“I’m in for sure,” Sadie added.
“And that makes it unanimous,” Francesca finished. “I need to loosen up, more, anyway.”
“I don’t know, Frankie, your parade across the parking lot was pretty bold,” Annie said.
“What’re you talking about?” Sadie asked, her curiosity piqued.
“Well… Annie, you start the story, and I’ll finish it,” Francesca suggested.
“Cool,” she said, and proceeded to tell Sadie about Francesca’s first experience with a Bellissimo diaper, and how she had left Annie’s apartment wearing nothing to cover it.
“Oh wow, Frankie, that’s serious balls right there. I mean, I feel like I’m wearing a damn billboard, right now.”
“It gets worse,” Francesca said, and then took a sip of beer before she started her part of the story.
“Really?” Sadie asked, leaning in closer.
Francesca nodded. “So, I get back to my place, right? I get across the parking lot okay, but before I can get up the stairs, I hear these guys coming down.”
Annie’s eyes went wide. “Oh no! Did you get caught?”
“I ducked down to the bottom flight as quickly and quietly as I could and jammed myself under the steps. I mean, I was wedged so tightly into the corner I thought my back was going to have stair marks on it.”
“Oh man, I would have been shaking like a leaf,” Annie breathed.
“I was,” Francesca told them. “I was so scared I actually peed myself. These guys sounded big, especially since this stairwell echoed a lot. Worse, sometimes their feet would come into view and I thought I was done. However, as scary as it was, they didn’t see me, and I got my soggy ass into my apartment as quick as I could once they left, still running around with no pants on.”
“That is completely ridiculous,” Sadie said, smiling and shaking her head ruefully. “But, that’s the risk you run when you go wandering around with your ass on display, and I’ve done it a few times. Props to you for giving it a shot, newbie,” she teased, and then offered Francesca a toast with her beer bottle.
“Thanks,” Francesca responded, and clinked her bottle against Sadie’s while Annie giggled.
Another round of drinks came out as they finished eating, and the women spent the next little while just talking, trading stories, and laughing. Sadie, Francesca noted, seemed far more at ease than she had been when Francesca had first met her. Annie was her usual jovial self, of course.
Once they had finished, Annie and Francesca went to the living room, but Francesca went to the diaper closet, first, and grabbed a pair of diapers before returning to the living room. She asked Annie for a change, and found that the second time around was much easier than the first time at the Caretaker’s House. When her diaper was changed, Sadie then proceeded to change Annie’s, and then they settled down for an evening of girlish behavior. Manicures and pedicures were the unanimously-preferred first activity, and the conversation free-wheeled around as they traded tips and remarks on various nail care products, lotions, and salon and spa experiences. In between activities, Annie suggested mixed drinks, and went to the kitchen to make them. “Frankie, could you give me a hand?”
“Sure, one sec,” Francesca replied as she finished a coat of nail polish on one fingernail. “What do you need?”
“Could you grab that bottle there and pour about half-a-shot into each glass?”
“No problem,” Francesca assured her as she awkwardly fumbled for the bottle with her hands. “Except for wet nail polish…”
“Yeah, seriously. I should have had this idea before we painted our nails. Sadie!”
“What?” came the response.
“Come help! Frankie’s too drunk and she can’t poor anything,” Annie said.
“Yeah, right,” Sadie said as she came into the kitchen and saw Francesca slowly dribbling liquor into the glasses. “Okay, maybe she is drunk.”
“Shut up!” Francesca cried as she finished pouring the measure. “My nails are wet!”
“So are mine,” Sadie responded as she inserted herself into the mixing process. She followed Annie’s instructions, but ended up almost dropping a full bottle of vodka onto the floor, much to Francesca’s amusement, trying to avoid smearing her nail polish, which happened to be multi-colored. The comedy didn’t stop there: Annie spilled a glassful of ice from the scoop trying to spread it between the three drinks, and ended up having to dodge around the dropped cubes while hoping she didn’t mess up her nails as well.
“Oh my God, we have to be the worst drink mixers, ever,” Francesca said. “I mean, seriously; how hard is it to mix three drinks with wet nails?”
“Apparently, it’s some sort of rocket science,” Sadie opined. “Because, damned if I could do that, again. But hey, we got it done, didn’t we? And the results aren’t half bad!” she finished before she drank off a good portion of her glass. “Yes, I can almost feel my inebriation growing!”
Francesca shook her head as she laughed quietly to herself. “To drunken pedicures!” she toasted, and the other two women joined her. She wondered how bad her hangover would be the next morning, and then decided she didn’t care enough to worry about it.
Re: The Caretaker’s House -Chapters 1-13 - Updated 11/8/12
Another fantastic chapter. Alcohol does some bad things to ones judgement. I sure hope this evening doesn’t come back and bite Francesca.
I will be looking forward to more.
Re: The Caretaker’s House -Chapters 1-13 - Updated 11/8/12
Chapter Fourteen
By Sunday evening, Francesca would eventually conclude that Friday’s drunken debauchery wasn’t the greatest idea she’d ever had in her life. However, during the night itself, Francesca thoroughly enjoyed herself, and consumed more in alcoholic beverages that one night than she had in months put together. The inevitable buzz had shown up fairly soon after the first mixed drink, and after the next couple, the buzz had given way to a slight loss of balance and coordination, which had caused her, wisely, to slow down her intake. Sadie, however, was not to be stopped. After her first two mixers, she had loaded one of Annie’s baby bottles with a concoction of her own design, and then done the same for Annie and Francesca, though only Francesca had sipped at it. Sadie practically drained hers, and Annie didn’t let hers get too warm, either.
“Guys. Guys, guys, guys. Like… seriously,” Sadie rambled, standing in the middle of the living room and swaying gently in place. “I’m pretty sure I’m trashed.”
“No argument,” Francesca said. On a whim, she looked down at Sadie’s diaper (they all were lacking bottoms by unspoken agreement to make checking each other’s diapers easier) and saw that it was wet… but seemed to be expanding. Francesca looked up at Sadie to see her staring off into space, apparently lost in thought while she soaked her diaper.
“Yeah, seriously. I mean… I am so drunk, right now,” Sadie said as she fixated on the couch and just barely managed to flop onto it. Annie giggled from her place on the recliner. Francesca tried to think of something witty to say but at the last moment decided against it, and instead settled back to drink from her dangerous baby bottle. While she was at it, she decided to follow Sadie’s example and relieve building pressure in her bladder. Francesca couldn’t help but let out a little sigh of relief in the process. However, rather than a simple relief, it was becoming a flood. Worry seeped into her expression as she looked down at her Bellissimo (quickly becoming her favorite diaper) and hoped it would hold it all in. She felt a tickle at her leg gathers and she immediately clamped down on the flow, worried that she was beginning to leak. The tickle vanished, and she experimentally probed around the area in question, looking for any seepage. Surprised, she found none, and she let her bladder resume emptying.
“What’s wrong, Frankie?” Annie asked.
“Nothing; thought I was leaking, but I wasn’t.”
“Haaaa. Leaks suck, man,” Sadie put in, drunkenly.
“Do you need a change?” Annie asked.
Francesca shrugged, and probed her wet diaper. “Probably. Are you sober enough to change me?” she asked with a smirk.
Annie smiled lazily. “Probably not.”
“I can hold out for a little while longer,” Francesca reasoned, and then looked over at Sadie. “Sadie? Do you need a diaper change?” Sadie had her eyes closed, and appeared to be passed out, a suspicion confirmed when Francesca got up and went over to her in order to investigate. “Out like a light,” she said.
“We might want to change her, anyway,” Annie suggested. “Sometimes, she wets herself overnight after getting really drunk, and she’s been putting it away, almost two-to-one for me.”
Francesca looked over at Annie, and then back at Sadie, whose diaper was indeed pretty well soaked by all appearances; Francesca prodded it to see. “Yeah, you’re right,” she agreed, and then she gently shook Sadie and called her name gently until she responded. “Sadie, we’re going to change your diaper, okay?”
“Mmkay,” Sadie responded, and was out again in a moment. Francesca went to the diaper closet and got three Bellissimos; she returned to the couch to start Sadie’s change. Annie stumbled over to help, slowly, lest she lose her balance. Between the two of them, they got Sadie’s wet diaper changed awkwardly, but the finished result was enough to hold her overnight for sure. Francesca checked Annie’s diaper, next, and suggested she get changed, too; Francesca even offered to help, even though it was technically against the rules, and asked to be changed after. Annie agreed, and spread out on the floor. Francesca got her changed quickly, and made her critical mistake of the night, at least in one sense, when she went to throw Annie’s wet diaper away; when she returned, Annie likewise had passed out.
“What about me?” Francesca whispered to herself in a low whine. With a sigh, she decided to get out of her saturated diaper on her own rather than waiting until morning. However, she went back to the closet for a Cushie rather than trying to mess with a Bellissimo. At that moment, she preferred the simple method of two larger tapes rather than four smaller ones. When she had changed, the thinner diaper felt almost like wearing exceptionally crinkly panties. She also found some blankets and covered the other two women up where they lay, and made herself comfortable on Annie’s love seat. While she would have rather helped Annie to bed, Francesca at least put a pillow under her head for some measure of comfort. Too, Francesca wasn’t sure just how drunk she was (she had actually surprised herself by getting her diaper on without difficulty) and she didn’t want to hurt herself or Annie trying to play the heroine.
When Francesca awoke the next morning, she was distressed to find that it was an abysmally early hour. After a few moments of taking stock of her situation, she realized she had only woken up because of a sharp pain in her abdomen; that was why she had a diaper on, after all, so Francesca simply relaxed. She looked over at Annie and Sadie, both of whom were still asleep—with the latter snoring audibly—and then changed her position in an attempt to gain more rest, herself—she was asleep in moments.
The next time she awoke, the sun was much higher in the sky. Annie and Sadie were still out like lights, but Francesca felt that too much of the day had already been wasted. She elected to get out of her makeshift bed, and start her day in earnest, first by investigating whether or not there was anything reasonable for breakfast. Her movement stirred Annie, who awoke a moment later. “G’morning,” she greeted Francesca sleepily.
“Good morning,” Francesca greeted her in return. “How do you feel?”
Annie shrugged. “Not bad, considering I spent the night on my floor, and am mildly hung over.” She looked at her pillow. “Did you do this?” Francesca nodded. “Thanks, Frankie.” She put a hand to her head. “There’s that hangover kick,” she grumbled, and situated herself Indian-style on the floor.
Francesca couldn’t help but smirk a little as she turned and crinkled her way into the kitchen. Annie had apparently gone grocery-shopping before last night; the refrigerator was stocked, as were the cabinets. “Do you mind if I raid your pantry for breakfast?” Francesca asked.
“Go ahead,” came the response. “How are you not hung over?” followed a moment later.
“I stopped keeping pace with you and Sadie about halfway through last night.”
“Oh. Well, I guess that explains that,” Annie’s voice continued, growing louder as she walked into the kitchen. “Why?”
“You know how at parties, everyone just gets straight-up smashed as soon as they can? I mean, I know that’s the point of parties… get drunk, have fun, but not necessarily in that order. I was having a lot of fun last night, and I stopped drinking as much in case one of us did something stupid. I mean, it would be one hell of a story how three grown women wearing adult diapers with cartoon prints on them ended up in the ER at two in the morning because someone tripped over a couch or something,” Francesca explained.
Annie nodded understanding. “You played a designated driver card.”
Francesca nodded. “Pretty much. Next time, you can be the DD, and I’ll get smashed to the point of immobility.”
Annie giggled, but instead of responding immediately she focused on rummaging for utensils. “You know, I’m glad you suggested we invite Sadie. I haven’t seen her that mellow in a long time… maybe ever,” she whispered.
“Yeah, she seemed to really enjoy herself. Maybe it was because she could have fun without needing to… I don’t know… perform?” Francesca opined.
“You’re probably right. That also explains why you’re probably making twice the money I am at work,” Annie said, nudging Francesca playfully as she poured cereal into a bowl. Francesca prudently did not comment.
“Do you guys do stuff like this often?” Francesca asked. “I mean, maybe not full-on girl nights, but nights where you have fun, either with or without diapers?”
Annie shook her head while she chewed. “No. Well, not really. I mean, it’s pretty rare when we get together to do stuff; Sadie and I are the only two who really have any sort of friendship outside of the Caretaker’s House, at least that I know of. Now that you’re here, maybe that’ll change a little.”
“I hope so,” Francesca said, hoping that it did, even if it was just Annie and Sadie. She knew in the back of her mind that this pleasure and friendship with them was likely to be fleeting; she didn’t imagine being able to sustain her relationship with Annie and Sadie after she left, or worse, if she came clean to them about why she was there. It was a conversation she wasn’t looking forward to at all… but she could still hope for the best.
They ate on in silence, but when they were finished, Annie spoke up. “What should we do today?”
Francesca shrugged. “I dunno, go to the park or something? Sunbathe?”
“Sunbathe?!”
“Sure, why not? Those girls in all those stupid model pictures do it all the time, why can’t we?” Francesca said, smirking to show that she was joking. Annie arched an eyebrow, and Francesca had the sinking feeling that Annie was taking her suggestion seriously. “I was kidding, by the way.”
“I don’t know, Frankie; that’s actually a pretty cool idea. I mean, if it was just me people would look at me funny. If it’s all three of us… they’ll think it’s some stupid party gag.”
“But… they’ll still be looking at us. They’ll also be looking at us with our diapers on full display,” Francesca pointed out, starting to get scared.
Annie shrugged. “As strange as it sounds, I’m not really bothered by that. Of course, that could be the hangover talking…”
Francesca felt faint. “Let’s hope.”
Annie picked up on Francesca’s unease. “What’s the matter, afraid to be seen in public wearing a diaper?”
“Yes, and I’m not ashamed to admit it,” Francesca stated.
“But, you told me a story,” Annie began, wearing a smile too sly for Francesca’s taste, “where you weren’t embarrassed to be seen in just your underwear.”
“I was also drunk at the time,” Francesca reminded her.
Annie shrugged. “So? You weren’t sober last night, and you wore just a diaper and a shirt the entire time.”
“That’s different; we were here, and we were safe.”
“I think we should go out in our diapers,” Annie declared. “I think we should go have fun, and not care who sees us. What’s the worst that could happen?”
“We end up on those AB photo sites and people start hounding us for more pictures,” Francesca groused. The situation was deteriorating with astonishing speed.
Annie seemed unconcerned. “That supposes that anyone with a knowledge of the fetish sees us. Besides, just because we’ll be out in diapers doesn’t mean they have to be adult diapers.”
“Huh?” Francesca asked, suddenly confused.
“Yeah. We can go buy baby diapers or pull-ups, or something. I saw that Huggies has those cute jeans-like diapers. At first glance those would look like panties or bikini bottoms,” Annie explained. “But, if you want to wear an adult diaper, that’s fine.” Francesca was too flustered to respond immediately; Annie forged ahead. “Yeah, we’ll go get some baby diapers, and go to the park. I haven’t laid out in the sun in forever, anyway. I probably have a bikini top you can borrow, Frankie, and probably one for Sadie, too.” Annie started to tick points off on her fingers. “So, we’ll need the diapers, but probably also a diaper bag… I’ve got a duffle that’ll work, and we’ll load that with changing supplies, I’ve got bikini tops, but we’ll need a cooler, because why not make it a picnic?”
“Wait, what are we doing?” interjected a sleepy-sounding voice. Annie and Francesca both looked over to see Sadie standing in the doorway to the living room. Her diaper was saturated and sagging heavily on her hips, causing Francesca to momentarily wonder if that was from her waking up to go, or if she had wet overnight. Francesca was also acutely reminded of the wet state of her diaper; she probably needed to change.
Annie noticed Sadie’s diaper as well. “How about we all get changed, and I’ll explain. We can decide then what we want to do,” Annie suggested, looking at Francesca. Sadie shrugged and shuffled back into the living room to lay down for a diaper change. Annie went to get the diapers, and Francesca walked into the living room as well, not really sure about what was happening; the only thing she was sure about was that she didn’t like it. Annie came back and started to change Sadie’s diaper, explaining about going out to a park with baby diapers while she did so.
“But, that actually kinda sounds fun,” Sadie said as Annie was taping shut her new Cushie diaper.
“Seriously?” Francesca was incredulous.
“Yeah; I mean, what’s so bad about it? People will think they’re bikini bottoms, or something,” she opined, echoing Annie.
Francesca didn’t want to do it. She didn’t want to go outside with her diaper on full display; she didn’t care if it was a Pampers or a triple-thick Bambino! “I don’t know, I’m… really nervous about this.”
Sadie waved dismissively as she got up from the floor. “Then don’t do it. But, I think it’s going to be fun, so I’m going for it.”
“I’m in as well,” Annie said as she motioned for Francesca to lay down for a change. Francesca obliged, and Annie made swift work of changing her, after which they traded positions and Francesca returned the favor, even though she now felt wrongly outnumbered. She was thankful that she didn’t truly have to go along with Annie and Sadie’s plans… but she knew she would at least accompany them on the trip.
On the way, Francesca wondered if even that was one of her more intelligent ideas. They had stopped at a grocery store first off, proceeded directly to the baby aisle, and began to peruse the selection of diapers available. “Which do you like better?” Sadie asked.
Annie shrugged. “I’ve always liked Pampers, even though we came for the Huggies,” she said as she picked up a small bag of the diapers in question.
Sadie shrugged and picked up a bag of Huggies that had the denim-styled outer print. “These are just too cute,” she said, causing Francesca to wonder at the dual nature of Sadie’s lifestyle: punk-goth on the outside, with a baby inside. After the initial selections were made, Francesca found herself amazed and surprised that her two friends continued through the store selecting other items, diapers in hand. Fortunately, it was just odds and ends, and not a true grocery shopping trip, and they checked out minutes later, much to Francesca’s great relief. Her relief was short-lived, however; when they got to the park, Francesca was distressed to see that it wasn’t devoid of human life; there were people around doing normal Saturday things; families were picnicking, kids were playing, things were happening. Neither Annie nor Sadie seemed to care, however; they gathered up their things, placing much of what they intended to bring with them in a cooler that Francesca only just then noticed, and headed off into the well-tended grass of the park. They picked a place that was sunlit but also covered by trees, and proceeded to disrobe. Francesca’s cheeks burned with the shame that neither of her companions likely felt as they traded their Cushie diapers for baby diapers—denim-style Huggies for both. Their changes dealt with, they began to liberally apply sunscreen while Francesca simply looked at them and then the park in general, privately envious of their brash public changing.
It was the lack of a response that got her attention first. No one looked in their direction. No one seemed as if they were reaching for cell phones to call the authorities. No one was training binoculars or cameras their way. The rest of the world was still spinning on its axis while Annie and Sadie spread towels on the ground to lie on. Perhaps it was the combination of their lack of concern coupled with Francesca’s own (privately admitted to) desires to delve deeper into the diapered lifestyle; but whatever the case, she decided that it just wasn’t fair that her friends got to have fun and she didn’t. Disgruntled with herself, Francesca snatched up a baby diaper and headed to the restrooms to change. No way was she going to change into a baby diaper in plain view like her friends had. That was simply too much.
When she got up to the restrooms she was dismayed to see that they were simple affairs, and also fairly busy. However, beggars could not be choosers, she thought, and when a stall opened up she went right into it. Changing out of her Cushie diaper proved more difficult, as she had to carefully peel the tapes back so they wouldn’t make their usual horrible ripping sound. She was sad to discard an unused diaper, but the Cushie was just to obviously a diaper to pass unnoticed out in plain view. By comparison, the Huggies denim-looking diaper she had picked up was not so obviously a diaper at face value. Well, at least not from beyond a certain range…
After her change was done, she carefully exited the bathroom after hastily shoving her old diaper into the trash can (and obscuring it with some used paper towels from washing her hands), and wished she hadn’t left the stall at all. Standing not ten feet away from her was Bart Clayton. Her good fortune was that he hadn’t noticed her—he was looking away—but an impending sense of doom pervaded. He was clearly intending to jog, either around the park or from the park to somewhere else; she deduced this from his lack of sweat and still-fresh look. And there she was, wearing a baby diaper under loose pants, and two of her friends, as well as case assets, were in a dangerous position at the bottom of the hill, only partially obscured by trees, with their diapers on full view…
Re: The Caretaker’s House -Chapters 1-14 - Updated 11/17/12
Chapter Fifteen
Francesca decided that talking to Bart would be disastrous. So, she turned away and headed back down the hill away from him, all the while silently praying that he would just get on with his run and not pay her any attention. She could hear him talking and laughing with someone; risking a look back, she saw that he was with two other men, likewise dressed to run, and likewise looking fresh. She wasn’t sure whether to be happy about this development or frustrated: Bart alone would probably take a hint and go away, but three men alone encountering three women, likewise alone? They might see it as equal opportunity, both literally and figuratively, she thought angrily. She hoped their run kept them away from Annie and Sadie, but she also wasn’t banking on it. Now, Francesca had a tough choice to make. Did she warn her friends, or let nature take its course and hope for the best? Francesca recalled Annie and Sadie stating they didn’t care if they were seen in their diapers, but she privately doubted they meant that. Well, Sadie might have, but Annie? Francesca wasn’t sure, but she figured that Annie was probably leaning on Sadie mentally for her own reassurance. Francesca decided to let things play out.
However, when she got back down to the girls, she decided that if they were going to suffer, she might as well suffer right along with them; she removed the pants from over her diaper and spread out on her own towel, and composed her mind to relax rather than fretting anxiously about what might suddenly be.
“Where’ve you been?” Sadie asked, lazily.
“I went to the bathroom to change,” Francesca answered.
Sadie cracked an eye to see, and then smiled. “Decided to bite the bullet, huh? Way to go, Frankie!” she quietly cheered.
Francesca smiled back in response. “Thanks. But if we get caught like this, I’m blaming you.”
“Yeah, let me know how that works out.”
Francesca rolled her eyes and lay back, but she couldn’t relax. She felt too vulnerable, too exposed. It was almost a chore to keep her breathing even and normal, when she wanted to jump up and run somewhere dark to hide. She wished she could have the same apparent nonchalance that Annie and Sadie had, but she didn’t. A rustle came from close at hand as Annie rolled onto her stomach to let her back sun. Francesca sighed and tried to relax, again failing miserably. She was too acutely aware of everything… worse, she felt her breathing and heart rate pick up as she heard the sound of fast-paced footfalls coming their way. Anyone but them, she silently prayed. Any direction but towards us, she added for good measure. The footfalls came closer and closer and closer, and Francesca became more and more tense; she actually began to tremble slightly with fear. If she was going to lie there and be seen, she at least felt she had the right to see who was observing them… she cracked an eye and as inconspicuously as possible tipped her head towards the sound.
The running and biking path wound and curved through the park to maximize exposure to the scenery, as well as create the best combination of distance and open space. The trees that the women were using as their cover formed an almost-complete wall around them… and the devilish detail about the ‘almost’ was that there was a hole in the ‘wall’ that looked straight at the women for perhaps a six-foot gap. Sure enough, right in that six-foot gap was Bart Clayton and his friends, jogging easily along the path. Francesca’s heart sank. All he had to do was glance over and see her, recognize her, slow down or stop, and that would be that. The sudden arrival of reality caused Francesca’s fear to reach a breaking point, and she wet her diaper involuntarily. The shock of warmth spreading across her bottom made her gasp, and she blushed with shame once again. The possibility of contact had literally been less than five seconds, but the possibility was enough to nearly make Francesca scream.
“Are you alright?” Annie asked lazily from her towel.
Francesca looked over at her and saw the concern in Annie’s expression. “Yeah, I’m fine.”
“You don’t look fine.”
“Those joggers… I was really worried they might see us,” Francesca responded, telling the whole truth, from a certain point of view.
“Oh. Well, relax. If they had, they’d assume we were wearing matching bikini bottoms. These diapers were a great idea.”
“I’m glad you’re so confident,” Francesca mumbled to herself, still discontented.
“Hey, cheer up,” Annie soothed. “It’s been a great weekend, so far. The rest of the day is going to be great, as well. No sense getting worked up about stuff like this when you could have avoided the whole mess just by not wearing one in the first place.”
“Point,” Francesca conceded. It didn’t make her feel any better, though. She tried to get comfortable by rolling onto her front, but her mind would not let her relax. Francesca allowed her mind to wander in the hopes that the distraction of random thoughts would finally let her be at ease, and after a while it began to work. Sadly, the spell was broken by Sadie announcing she needed a change.
“That’s the one downside to these baby diapers,” she muttered. “I don’t feel as confident in them as I do adult diapers.” Annie grabbed a fresh diaper and after checking to make sure the coast was clear—Francesca fell into the role of lookout automatically—she made short work of Sadie’s diaper change. “Much better, thank you, darling,” she said with a smile to Annie. “How about you, newbie?”
“Uh,” Francesca mumbled, and then looked down at her diaper. Sure, she was wet… but wet enough for a change? “Yeah, might as well. Not in a hurry to find out how much these can’t hold,” Francesca joked as she laid back. Sadie was quick and efficient about the deed, and then it was Annie’s turn to complete the cycle.
After Annie was changed, the three women abandoned the idea of lying out in the sun purely for the purpose of tanning, and instead made themselves comfortable on their towels to talk, instead. “So, Frankie. You gonna play at level three tonight?” Sadie asked.
“What?” Francesca asked lamely.
“You know, tonight. At Eric’s,” Sadie reminded her. “Tonight’s the big thing at his place.”
“Oh. Oh! I completely forgot!”
“Guess that answers that question,” Sadie mused. “Don’t sweat it, though; he might even be relieved you aren’t. I don’t know how many people are going to be there, but if I had to guess, probably at least six, counting us three, and probably four of us playing at three, so two fewer diapers he has to deal with will probably make his evening a little less stressful.”
The idea of six women sitting around in dirty diapers flashed into Francesca’s head just then, and she began to have second thoughts of attending. However, she knew she wanted to, so she pushed those second thoughts out of her mind. “Wow. That’s… interesting. Six women romping around in diapers, huh?”
“At least,” Annie nodded. “Who do you think will be there, Sadie? Jane and Sarah, maybe Megan?”
“Jane for sure; she hasn’t missed a meet that I know of, except for that one time she was out of town. Megan, probably; Eric was telling me she was almost certain to be there when we were there last Saturday. I don’t know about Sarah.”
“These people you’re talking about… they all come to the meets?” Francesca asked.
Sadie nodded. “Yeah; some of 'em are even cool like you, others I kinda wish would get a life, or something.”
“That’s putting it mildly,” Annie murmured.
“Well, I was being nice. This one time, a girl came out for her first time and decided that she wanted to play at three right off the bat. Eric made sure she understood what that meant, and she was totally for it. He handed her the contract, she checked the right box, signed it, and that was that,” Sadie recounted. “So, the night’s going along fine, up until Eric comes out to check diapers. A bunch of us needed changes, so he started taking us into the nursery one by one. He gets to this bitch and she flips out at him, calls him a pervert, all kinds of shit, right? So, even though technically Eric is in charge, he backs off, and takes care of another girl. We’re all kind of shocked by this chick, because now I’m thinking that she’s totally bi-polar, or something. Eric comes over to her, and instead of checking her, asks if she needs a diaper change. She ignores him, and keeps doing what she’s doing… I think she was coloring. He checks her diaper again, anyway, and she’s clearly soaked, so he tells her to come with him to the nursery before she leaks on the carpet. She gets all huffy about it, but she goes into the nursery with him, anyway. Oh my God, I thought she was going to claw his eyes out while he changed her. She was screaming, calling him names, all this stuff.”
“Wow,” Francesca murmured.
“Seriously. Ungrateful is what she was. Anyway, bloody murder is happening in the nursery, and then it all goes quiet. Now, even though we didn’t hear any noises like a body hitting the floor or something like that, we’re all totally convinced that he snapped and like, smothered her or something. Sure enough, she comes walking out all sunshine and happiness in a fresh diaper and goes back to coloring. I went right over to Eric and asked him what the hell that was all about, and you know what he tells me? He said, ‘she never spoke the safe word,’ shrugged, and went back to his office like it was nothing.”
“Iceman,” Annie giggled. “She hasn’t come back, has she?”
“No, thank God. If I had to sit through another night of her screaming, I’d kill her myself. Probably even get a medal for it, or something,” Sadie groused.
Francesca remembered a story that Annie had told her days and days earlier. “But… don’t some girls throw tantrums as part of their… age play, or something?” she asked, making a veiled reference to some of Sadie’s antics.
“Sure, when it makes sense. But this chick was pitching a fit about getting a diaper change, something that most kids accept and just deal with, even when they don’t like it, and, like, most adult babies get a kick out of. And not like, ‘no, I don’t wanna,’ whiney bullshit, but full-on, ‘I will cut you’ kind of tantrum, like the kind of tantrum someone would throw trying to avoid getting raped,” Sadie finished and made a face.
“Yikes,” Francesca breathed.
“Seriously,” Sadie agreed. “Not many girls get into screaming tantrums, though, which is nice; I can only take so much of it.”
“Even when you’re the one doing it?” Annie asked, smirking.
Sadie nodded. “But at least I need to get smashed before I get that stupid.”
“I don’t know, there was that one time you were sober and started painting yourself different colors…”
Sadie flushed pink. “I was really into it that night, okay?! Besides, you painted yourself, too!” she countered.
Annie giggled. “I did, and it was fun.” Francesca joined the laughter. Shortly after, the suggestion was made to go somewhere else, which Francesca heartily seconded, and she immediately put something on over her diaper.
Sadie laughed at her. “In a hurry, there, Frankie?”
“Just a little!” she responded, embarrassed.
“Don’t sweat it. We all get that way our first time out in public,” she said to calm Francesca down. “If you stick with it long enough, you’ll get used to it.”
“Have you ever gone out in public with nothing on over a bigger diaper?” Francesca asked.
Sadie nodded. “Plenty of times. Sometimes it was just to see who I could shock, some other times it was just for me.” Francesca mulled that over without response as they finished packing up their stuff and headed back to the parking lot. Francesca was looking forward to getting back to the safe haven of Annie’s apartment, and into something other than a baby diaper. She didn’t see the draw to Pampers and Huggies when Bambino and ABU had larger, better-fitting products. To Francesca, baby diapers were for babies, and printed adult diapers were for adults who liked to pretend to be babies. However, she couldn’t deny the convenience of the smaller diaper for outdoor use, but she kept that tidbit to herself. One outdoor excursion in broad daylight was enough for her.
It seemed like a shorter trip back to Annie’s apartment than it took to get to the park, but Francesca remembered that they had detoured to the grocery store. Once back, it was the banal tasks of unloading their park gear, disposing of whatever trash had tagged along, and then heading to her apartment proper. The suggestion of lunch was abandoned in favor of eating at Eric’s House later that day. “It doesn’t really matter when we show up; but sooner we get there, sooner we eat,” Sadie explained. Francesca still wanted out of her baby diaper, though, and after a brief discussion of what to do in the meantime, Francesca availed herself of the opportunity to take a shower.
“Good idea, Frankie. Go ahead; I’ll go after you, unless you want to, Sadie?” Annie asked.
“Sure, sounds fine. Just don’t take forever, huh? Not like we’re gearing up for hot dates.”
Francesca prudently did not comment and instead headed into the bathroom. She emerged an efficient half hour later, hair wrapped in a towel, wearing a t-shirt and a Bellissimo diaper. Annie took it from there, and that left Sadie and Frankie alone in the living room.
“So,” she began. “I’ve never really gotten the chance to talk to you one-on-one, Frankie,” Sadie said with a friendly smile. “So, let’s play a million questions. What do you do to pay the bills?”
“Actuarial,” Francesca responded. “I’m here on assignment, look at this, deal with that, make sure everything is going the way it’s supposed to be,” she explained.
Sadie nodded, impressed. “That’s pretty cool. Company paid for all your moving expenses?” Francesca nodded. “You lucky bitch,” Sadie muttered. “I wish I had that kind of job.”
“What do you do?” Francesca asked, since it was only fair.
Sadie made a face. “Nothing glamorous,” she started, and then seemed almost embarrassed to go further. “I mean… I’m an office worker. Data entry: basic bullshit. I didn’t finish college, barely got out of high school, and I bounced around a bit before a friend set me up with this job. I’ve almost gotten fired for dress code violations, and they read me the riot act about my hair, but I do a good enough job that they haven’t kicked my ass out, and I get along with everyone.”
“A job’s a job,” Francesca reminded her.
“Yeah, I know,” Sadie mumbled. “But, I really thought that I’d be better off by this point in my life, you know?” She smiled wistfully. “I mean, when I got out of high school I was so happy to start being an adult and taking responsibility for myself…” the smile vanished. “And then the world showed me who was boss and pulled the rug out from under me. I ended up in a couple abusive relationships, moved around a lot, changed jobs a few times…” she shrugged. “It sucked pretty bad. Now, I mean… I’m better off than I was, but I’m still going nowhere fast.”
“Still got plenty of time to change things around, you know, make a real solid start,” Francesca suggested.
“That’s the thing, Frankie,” she sounded almost despondent. “I literally have no idea what I want to do with my life. Any idea I have seems too far-fetched or unobtainable, or just so damned boring I might kill myself. I have no talents, I have no skills—that I know of—and I have to work really hard not to cut people who piss me off sometimes. I only have my current job because I pretty much put my normal self into a box for eight hours and wear a mask. I fucking hate it so much,” Sadie explained, a deep well of emotion underlying her words. Francesca had no response that would do justice, so she remained silent. Sadie heaved out a breath. “Look at me, crying on your shoulder,” she mused, trying to put some positive back into the negative.
Francesca smiled. “Isn’t that what friends are for?”
“Yeah, or at least that’s what they’re supposed to be for. Doesn’t always work that way.”
Francesca nodded. “Been there a couple times, myself.”
“Who hasn’t?” Sadie asked, and sighed. “Thanks for listening, Frankie.”
“You’re welcome.” They chatted about other things until Annie came out of the bathroom and Sadie went in to clean up. Francesca and Annie chatted a little as well while straightening up from the previous night, with Annie mostly talking about what to expect at the Caretaker’s House that night and Francesca asking questions about the people who were likely to show up and how they behaved. She couldn’t help but be somewhat concerned about what to expect, but she wasn’t so concerned that she began to worry.
“You know, the best way to explain it is that it’s… well, it’s like a daycare. You’ve seen what modern daycare is like, right?” Annie asked. Francesca nodded. “It’s like that, except with adults, all girls, and one person in charge instead of two or three. Some of them will be total infants, others will be toddlers, and still others will behave like three- or four-year olds.”
“And there’s going to be somewhere between six and ten people there?” Francesca asked. Annie nodded. Francesca shook her head. “Wow. I mean, I thought three women wearing diapers at one time was weird, but six or more…?”
“Yeah, the culture shock can be pretty severe sometimes. But cheer up. You’ve survived me and Sadie; what could be worse?” Annie teased.
Francesca arched an eyebrow. “Good question. Possibly a loaded one, too.”
“Oh, hush. Just relax and enjoy it.”
Re: The Caretaker’s House -Chapters 1-15 - Updated 12/9/12
Another great chapter. I know I shouldn’t be guessing, but I have a feeling that Bart did see and recognize her in the park. I have a feeling that is going to be a special conversation between the two of them when it happens. Then again I could be totally off. At any rate, I am looking forward to more of this outstanding story.
Re: The Caretaker’s House -Chapters 1-15 - Updated 12/9/12
Chapter Sixteen
It was hard for Francesca to relax when they pulled up to Eric’s House later that afternoon. There were what felt like an unusual number of other cars parked on the street, and Francesca knew that some of them had to belong to guests of the famous Caretaker. Francesca found herself regretting her appearance as she got out of Annie’s car; all she had on over her Bellissimo was the loose sweats she had brought to Annie’s to act as pajamas and lounge wear. Worse, her enormous diaper felt twice as enormous as she walked across the street towards the House. However, it could have been worse: Sadie had opted to forego any covering over her diaper, and instead resembled an overgrown two-year old as she walked. Annie, like Francesca, had opted for lounge wear to cover her own diaper.
Eric met them at the door, and he looked surprised to see Sadie without anything on over her diaper. Nevertheless, he greeted each woman personally, asked perfunctorily if any of them wished to modify their play level in any way, and then brought them into the living room to make introductions. “Everyone, most of you know Sadie and Annie; their friend is Francesca. She’s new, so be nice,” he chided the rest of the women playfully. There were four other women, Francesca saw, and she also saw that the fun had begun without them. Two of the four looked as though they had just been diapered, a third was clearly diapered under her pants, and the fourth woman, also the smallest of the bunch, had the waistband of some sort of diaper peeking over her pants. “Alright, so, Francesca, this is Jane,” he gestured to dark-haired woman without pants over her diaper, “this is Sarah,” with a gesture to the other pants-less woman, who had blond hair, “this is Megan,” to the woman with the pants over her diaper, “and lastly, this is another newcomer Jenny.” Francesca greeted each woman in turn, pleased by their welcoming attitudes, and amused by Jenny’s bashful return to her greeting. Annie and Sadie also made it a point to greet Jenny, while Eric checked them to see if they needed changes, which neither did, though Annie was a little wet. Eric did also check Francesca, but he asked permission first, and Francesca assented. It was a strange feeling to have her pants pulled down by a man and her diaper felt for wetness, but at least Eric had the good grace to pull her pants back up when he was done. Francesca saw that she wasn’t the only one being checked: Eric likewise went to check Megan, and when her pants were pulled down it was plain to see that her diaper was very wet. Eric led her away for a change, while Francesca and the others began to chat.
She quickly learned that no one much cared about who she was outside of the Caretaker’s House; all of the questions she received were about her diaper habits and experiences. She, along with Annie and Sadie, were asked several questions about the Bambino Bellissimos, as none of the other women had yet to try them, and were now keen to do so. Francesca also learned that Jenny was as shy and bashful in conversation as she had been during the introductions, if not more so. She did find out that Jenny was playing at Level Two, which she found surprising, as Francesca didn’t peg Jenny for being that sort of outgoing in so strange an environment. Megan came back out soon after, having abandoned her pants in favor of getting more into character. It was quickly evident to Francesca that only herself and Jenny were not playing at Level Three; she watched astounded as Eric came into the room with a small water bottle in one hand that appeared to be full of milk, and he situated himself and Jane on the couch so he could apparently feed her. Annie and Sarah got out coloring books and crayons and began to color pictures on the coffee table while trading remarks in something not far removed from baby talk, and Megan soon joined them. Sadie waited patiently for Jane to be finished with her bottle feeding, and then she took a turn while Jane decided to get in on the coloring fun.
That left Francesca and Jenny not engaged in any sort of direct age play, so Francesca settled for trying to open Jenny up a little bit more. “So, what kind of diapers do you like to wear?” she began, feeling extremely weird asking that question as a lead-off.
Jenny seemed surprised to be asked the question at all. “What? Oh, um,” she stammered with a blush, “I… mostly like Pampers, and… um… Pull-Ups… Goodnites are okay, too,” she mumbled.
Francesca kept her expression as pleasant as possible. “Oh, neat. So, you can still fit in baby diapers, I guess? I tried them, but they felt too tight.”
“Yeah, um, they fit okay. They are a little tight, though, but it’s okay. The Goodnites fit best because they’re bigger, but I like the diapers better,” Jenny explained, warming to the topic a little bit.
“Have you ever tried adult diapers?” Francesca asked.
Jenny made a face. “Well, Depends and the other store brands, but I don’t like them at all.”
Francesca couldn’t help but giggle. “Yeah, I didn’t even bother with them; I just jumped straight into adult baby diapers,” she responded, worrying momentarily if she had said something different to Annie or Sadie.
“Really? How did you get into this in the first place?” Jenny asked.
Francesca had to think quickly and choose her words carefully. “Have you ever been bored with a Google search open?” she asked in a low voice. Jenny nodded. “That’s how it happened. I was just randomly hopping around the Internet when I came across this whole thing, and at first I was like, ‘what?’ But, then I started looking into it more because it was so totally out of left field… and I decided I wanted to try it. So, I did. Not long after that, I met Annie through a forum, then I transferred out here temporarily because of work, and here I am.”
“Wow,” Jenny murmured. “That… seems pretty cool. I mean, I didn’t get into it that way, um…” she blushed a deep red, “I was a bedwetter until I was, like, ten or eleven, so I wore diapers and Goodnites a lot growing up. I stopped, thankfully, but I never stopped liking diapers and stuff for that safety net, and going through high school and college, I sometimes wore them when I was depressed or feeling alone or scared, and they would help me feel better. I came across this through a bedwetter support forum, and after I got over my surprise that a lot of people liked to wear diapers, even though they didn’t need them, I felt a lot better about my little secret,” she finished.
“That’s really cool,” Francesca said. “I’m glad you found a way,” she said, and meant it. “Do you think you’ll try the adult baby diapers at some point?”
Jenny shrugged. “Probably. I mean, part of the reason I came tonight was to see what they’re like, and they do look really cool. I’m just… not sure I want to be seen with one on,” she admitted.
“Oh honey, trust me; I know exactly how you feel. Annie and I have been hanging out a lot since I got here, and she really helped me get over my fear of being seen in a diaper among friends. The cool thing about this is, if you don’t want to, you don’t have to, but if you do want to, you’ll be safe.”
That seemed to relax Jenny quite a bit. “Thanks. I really appreciate you telling me that.”
They continued talking for a while after while the baby play went on around them. Occasionally, Francesca and Jenny stopped talking to watch their friends at play, especially when one or more of them got deeply into character and began to have a tantrum or get louder and louder as children often did. When the odor of an obviously dirty diaper began to waft, Eric methodically checked everyone’s diaper until he came to the culprit; Sadie. He immediately took her to the nursery for a diaper change, leaving Francesca trying very hard to suppress her laughter. As a way to distract herself from the amusement of it, she asked Jenny if she had seen the nursery.
“Yeah, he took me on a tour when I got here,” she answered.
“What did you think?”
“It’s… kind of scary,” Jenny murmured. “I mean… those cribs look like huge cages, and I’m really surprised at how big the changing table is.”
Francesca giggled. “Yeah, I thought the same thing when I saw it, myself. But, Annie and I ended up sitting in the crib and talking for a little while, and it is surprisingly comfortable. Not sure I would enjoy it as much with the side up, though.” The crib didn’t sound like a bad idea, however, as some of the antics happening in the living room were becoming a little much for Francesca to bear. “I’m going to get a drink; would you like something?”
“Um, sure…” Jenny began, but rather than finishing her sentence, she trailed off.
“Did… you want something specific?” Francesca prompted, causing Jenny to blush even more.
“Um… in a…” she gestured with her hands ineffectively.
“A bottle? A sippy cup?” Francesca guessed. Jenny nodded to the second one, but said nothing. “Be right back,” Francesca said and went to the kitchen. She returned to the couch with two drinks, both in sippy cups, and handed one to Jenny, who smiled meekly as she accepted it. “I’m going to go chill in the nursery for a bit, care to join me?” she invited.
“Sure,” Jenny said. She sipped on her drink as they walked and when they were in the nursery itself, Jenny turned to stare at the changing table and the stacks of diapers it held. Francesca watched Jenny, only to hear her sigh in relief and seem to deflate slightly; Francesca swore she could hear the urine splattering into whatever diaper she was wearing. Either that, or the drink was just that loud, she thought to herself.
She set her drink aside and walked over to the table beside Jenny. Francesca knew that she knew that she knew what Jenny wanted, but she could almost feel the internal struggle with it that Jenny was experiencing. She knew it was wrong to encourage that sort of behavior, but Francesca could see the desire written all over Jenny’s face, in her body language, as though she had come to the House wearing a billboard. Here, Francesca thought, here she would be safe. “So,” she began. “If you had to pick one of these diapers to wear, which would it be?”
Jenny looked at Francesca askance, but said nothing; she only continued to sip from her cup. Francesca forged ahead. “I like the Bambino Teddy the best, out of all the diapers here,” she began. “I mean, I love the Bellissimo, and if I had been thinking I would have gotten some. But, the Teddy is a good second choice. The Classico,” she went on, taking one from the stack, “I guess is pretty much the same thing, just a different print on the front.” She opened it a little as though to examine it further, silently hating herself for doing so. Jenny watched in silence, her eyes wide. Francesca looked at her, then at the diaper, and then at Jenny again. It was when she looked back at Jenny that she noticed the dark spots at her crotch… and that they were growing. “Uh oh, Jenny; you’re leaking!” Francesca cried. She set the diaper aside on the changing table and grabbed for the baby wipes. When she turned back, Jenny hadn’t moved, but her eyes had changed. They were full of pleading. And they were fixed squarely on Francesca.
She figured it out a few moments of tense, embarrassing silence later, but couldn’t bring herself to immediately address the issue. Finally, there was nothing left for it, as Jenny seemed rooted in place. “Do… you want some help?” Jenny nodded just a little bit, and Francesca noticed the beginnings of tears in her eyes. “Um, well, why don’t you climb up on the changing table so I can help you with your pants,” she suggested, and Jenny complied, further cementing what Francesca thought to be true. Jenny was now in character. She lay back on the table, all but telling Francesca that she wanted her to do everything. Francesca repressed a sigh and set about it. “Well, since you leaked all over your pants, you’ll have to get changed into something else,” she said, stating the blindingly obvious as a lead-in to her next, and equally obvious question. “Would you like to be changed into a diaper?” Jenny, still with her sippy cup lodged firmly in her mouth, only nodded. However, Francesca wasn’t going to let it go at that. “Jenny, I need you to say yes, or no. Please,” Francesca added, when Jenny didn’t respond. Finally, she removed her sippy cup long enough to say, very quietly, “yes.”
“Okay,” Francesca said, and then she began to take off Jenny’s pants; as she pulled them down, she saw that Jenny wasn’t wearing a diaper at all, but a Pull-Up, one so thoroughly saturated it was a miracle it hadn’t leaked more than it had. Francesca pulled Jenny’s pants completely off of her legs, tossed them aside carefully, and then went to work on her Pull-Up. That she removed quickly and carefully, lest anything splash out of it. She glanced at Jenny’s face, and saw that she was looking away as tears streamed from her eyes. Francesca took a moment to wipe them away. “It’s alright, sweetie. I know this is what you want,” she soothed, and then began to wipe Jenny’s groin and bottom with baby wipes. She heard a choked-off sob from Jenny, but she didn’t stop. Francesca used the last wipe to clean the changing mat under Jenny’s bottom in case any urine or wetness had dribbled off of her legs or out of the Pull-Up. Francesca got out the baby powder next, and lightly sprinkled some over Jenny’s skin, and then it was time for the diaper, the Bambino Classico that Francesca had gotten out to tempt Jenny with in the first place. Francesca had to quench her own emotions as she unfolded it completely. Jenny spread her legs a little in subconscious invitation, but Francesca grabbed her by the ankles instead, and lifted her bottom by pushing her legs back as though she truly were an overgrown infant. The diaper slid neatly under Jenny’s bottom, and Francesca settled her gently onto it; after taking a moment to sprinkle in some baby powder, she pulled the front of it up between Jenny’s legs, all the while keenly aware of her fragile emotional state. Francesca took her time tucking the wings against her hips, and quite against her will, she began to hum a sing-song tune as she taped each of the four tapes to the front panel, the colorful building blocks that spelled out ‘BABY’ in bright, bold letters seeming to take on a greater meaning than Francesca had ever ascribed to them, and then it was done.
“There you go, sweetie,” she said to Jenny, who looked as though she were about to break down right then. Francesca pulled Jenny into a sitting position—a difficult task, as the poor girl was mostly limp—and took her gently in her arms in embrace; when Jenny responded by returning it, Francesca felt enormous relief, but then the tears began to flow. Quietly Jenny cried, and cried, and cried, on and on for what seemed like ages, but was actually minutes. Francesca felt anger burning within her, but she wasn’t angry at Jenny. “Come on, honey, let’s get off the table,” she urged, and tugged Jenny lightly to her feet, and walked with her to one of the cribs. She sat down on the mattress and then pushed her way up onto it completely, and Jenny joined her a moment later, immediately getting close to her again, as though clinging to her for dear life.
“Thank you, Frankie,” she murmured sloppily, her anguished emotions clouding her speech. “Thank you, thank you, thank you.”
She couldn’t bring herself to respond to that. Francesca’s mind was too clouded with emotions approaching molten fury. “What happened, Jenny?”
At first, Jenny was confused. “What do you mean?”
“You were so scared while I changed you, more scared than anyone I’ve ever seen or heard of during an adult diaper change. That kind of fear only comes from some sort of trauma or abuse,” Francesca explained, unable (and unwilling) to suppress her training. “Something happened to you in one of these situations, didn’t it?” It was a statement, not a question.
Jenny’s eyes went wide. “How… how could you know about that?”
“Because you aren’t the only one to be taken in, and then taken advantage of, by predators in this fetish,” Francesca clarified in a soft tone, counting her blessings that she was able to keep her tone and emotions in check. “It’s… not uncommon.”
Jenny looked at Francesca searchingly. “Did… you…?”
Francesca shook her head. “No, not to me, but to someone else I know.” That seemed to comfort Jenny a little, and she relaxed enough to start her woeful tale.
“It happened last year,” she began, and then recounted a tale that was eerily similar to the one Annie had told to Francesca the previous week. She told of how she had responded to a mommy online and been lured to this mommy’s ‘nursery’ for a weekend baby scene, and how it had started as expected, but quickly had gone from safe to horrible. Jenny hadn’t been fast enough on the draw to save herself from being utterly humiliated in front of the ‘mommy’ and her big boyfriend, a biker-type fellow. It quickly became a horrific experience. Her diapers weren’t used as elements of comfort but of torment, as she was made to sit in her own waste, both liquid and solid, for an unreasonable length of time. She wasn’t accorded any of the agreed-upon privacy, the biker guy routinely came in during diaper changes or at other points when Jenny was unclothed or otherwise exposed in a compromising position, and the man’s behavior was generally surly, oily, and terrible. “How he got along with his wife or girlfriend the mommy was beyond me,” Jenny recounted, “because he seemed mean and abusive… or at least he was that way to me. He would stare at me, too… while I was getting changed.” She shuddered. “It was awful.” However, Jenny had been allowed to leave after the weekend was over, and against all odds and logic she was invited to come back, since she had been such a ‘good little girl.’ “I didn’t stop until I got home, and I couldn’t shake the trauma for days,” Jenny concluded. “I didn’t wear diapers for almost three months after.”
Francesca couldn’t resist the question. “Why did you come here, then?”
“Because…” Jenny started. “Because… I wanted to try again. I wanted… to be taken care of like that… but safely. I heard about this place, and decided to give it a try. Eric seems really nice, but I don’t know if I’m ready to let a man change me, which is why I’m…” she blushed, “really glad that you helped me instead of getting him.”
“Well… you’re welcome,” Francesca responded warmly.
As if his ears had been burning, Eric came into the nursery just then, but he had Sarah in tow; she went to the changing table and climbed up onto it. “How’s it going in here?” he asked cheerfully, rightly curious, as he start Sarah’s diaper change.
“We’re fine. How’s everything out there?” Francesca replied.
“Things are good, except for this one’s diaper,” he explained while he cleaned Sarah’s bottom; she apparently had messed herself, as well. When she was done, Eric came over to Francesca and Jenny. “You look like you just changed, Jenny, but Francesca, may I check your diaper?” After a moment, she nodded and lay back a little to let Eric access her pants.
“You’re very wet, Francesca, would you like to be changed?” the Caretaker asked.
Re: The Caretaker’s House -Chapters 1-16 - Updated 12/22/12
Bravo Sir!
Re: The Caretaker’s House -Chapters 1-16 - Updated 12/22/12
Very good! The last part of this chapter was very deep and emotional but it wasn’t over the top. Thoroughly enjoyable.
Please continue your excellent story!
Re: The Caretaker’s House -Chapters 1-16 - Updated 12/22/12
Chapter Seventeen
It was a simple question loaded with all manner of possibilities for Francesca, not all of them good. Her diaper was wet because she had been wearing it for hours and using it whenever the need arose. She wasn’t in danger of leaking, but she was definitely wet enough to merit a fresh diaper. The problem, then, was whether or not she wanted to be changed—or more accurately, wanted to let herself be changed—by the Caretaker. She thought of how candidly Annie and Sadie and all the other women in the House submitted to checks and changes of wet and messy diapers. She thought of the setting and how inviting it all was, and the ideas of comfort and nurturing that the furniture and environment spoke to. Would it be so bad? Then she thought of how she had baited Jenny into a diaper, even though in reality Jenny had known full well what would come of her leak, as Francesca had surmised. All of this snapped through Francesca’s mind in a moment as she debated her answer to Eric’s simple question. Fortunately, Sarah had gone back to the others; it was just her, Jenny, and Eric in the nursery. There would not likely be a better time. “Yes,” Francesca answered softly. She was lying, of course. She did not want Eric to change her diaper. But, she felt she needed to be changed by him to atone for Jenny, as well as the lies she was perpetrating in order to complete her part in the investigation. She couldn’t bring herself to admit that she was curious enough about being changed by him to take the risk, nor could she even contemplate the deeply hidden truth that she wanted it.
“All right, come on over to the changing table,” he said to her as he pulled her pants back up so she could walk; when she did get to the table, however, he pulled them down completely and revealed her enormous Bellissimo diaper to Jenny and all the world, or so it felt. Jenny remained by the crib. Francesca stepped out of her lounge pants and climbed up onto the changing table and ‘assumed the position’ while Eric reached down to get a diaper for her. “Would you like Teddy or Classico?” he asked.
Francesca hesitated a moment before responding, “Classico.” She preferred Teddy, but she was still in her own form of penance. Then again, she hadn’t yet worn a Classico, and the experience might be worth it. Francesca spared Jenny a glance; she had remained sitting in the open crib and was watching the proceedings with interest. Francesca was brought back to the heart of the matter when Eric tore the first tape from her diaper. She had to swallow a cry of surprise, and nearly bit her lip in the process.
“Sorry,” Eric said, seeing her surprise. The other three tapes went without incident, except for causing Francesca’s heart rate to speed up with each one that was opened. Francesca covered her mouth with one hand, and blinked away tears as Eric pulled the front of her diaper down. She wanted to scream her safe word at him, now, but she realized that they were past the point of no return—she should have said no! Why, why, why didn’t she tell him that no, thank you, she did not want to be changed? At least he was gentle, she thought, but the sensation of a foreign hand—male, at that—probing around her most intimate places with a wipe was so alien and unsettling that Francesca became momentarily nauseous as he wiped her clean, and then lifted her bottom from the wet diaper to finish wiping. It wasn’t at all like being changed by Annie or Sadie; Francesca felt that she could at least trust them. Eric was neither Annie nor Sadie. Francesca had been wearing diapers recreationally for well over a week, now, but she hadn’t been made to feel so small as she did then, when Eric maneuvered her body as if she were a toddler. She was set back down naked onto the changing mat while he discarded the wet diaper and unfolded the clean Classico. Francesca watched with despair as he went through the process, wishing with all her might that she had said no. She contained herself, though, because at this point it was beyond futile. She had come this far, there was now no reason not to see the event through to its logical conclusion. She allowed no tears to fall, no sobs to escape her lips, but she was grateful when her bottom was again settled onto a clean diaper. Only a few more seconds, she thought, and then she would again be covered. Eric dusted her gently with powder, and then her new diaper was pulled up, and he began to tape it down. Francesca let out a sigh of relief when it was over.
“Thank you,” she said, as she got off the table, barely able to not to look like she was in a hurry to do so.
“You’re welcome,” Eric said with a gentle smile before leaving the nursery, his business, as it were complete. Francesca studied the smile, the emotions attached to it, and scrutinized the picture in her mind. She stood there in silence for a few moments as she separated her thoughts into a more organized flow. It was either that, she reasoned, or burst into tears. The experience had been both so overpowering and so surreal that she couldn’t decide whether she felt cared for or violated. She couldn’t decide whether she had hated the experience or enjoyed it. The only thing she had to cling to at that moment was a feeling of absolution; for all of her supposed sins during the extent of her part of the FBI’s investigation into the Caretaker’s House, she felt a sense of peace, though it had come with a terrible price. But the taint wasn’t gone, and Francesca knew she still had terrible things yet to accomplish.
Jenny was watching her both with interest and concern. “How… how was it?” she finally asked.
Francesca looked at Jenny as if seeing her for the first time, but after a moment the world resettled itself around her. “Um… it was…” she trailed off as she struggled to find the right words. “I don’t know. It was… nice, but I don’t know if I liked it, and… yeah, that’s the best I’ve got.”
Jenny stood up from the crib and walked over to her. “You looked like you wanted to throw up. I don’t think you enjoyed it at all, so why did you do it?” she asked, amused and intrigued at the same time.
Francesca shook her head slowly, opening her mouth to say something in response, but no words came at first. When they finally did, she said, “curiosity, maybe? I’ve heard so much good about Eric from Annie and Sadie, that… well, I guess I wanted to see if I would feel what they felt.”
Jenny’s curiosity was at its own heightened level. “Well… was it as good as they said it was?” she asked.
“I don’t know, yet. Because… yeah, he’s gentle, he took care of me, he didn’t do anything that felt… wrong, I guess, if you can get past the fact that he just changed my soaked diaper as if I was an overgrown toddler, and he didn’t make a big deal out of it.” Francesca sighed. “I don’t know, I just… don’t know.” She was surprised and relieved that the words she spoke were honest.
Jenny nodded, and took Francesca’s responses in stride. “I see. Because… I mean, I’d like to be treated like that… sort of how you took care of me. I want so badly to believe that I can trust him with that sort of thing…”
“But you aren’t sure?” Francesca said, filling in the gap. Jenny nodded.
“I don’t even know how close I came to being raped, and I don’t want to think about it, but I also want to move beyond it, because… I like diapers. I feel comfortable in them, and safe, and secure… and loved. I sometimes miss when my mom would change me before bed when I was a kid.”
“How old were you when you had to stop wearing diapers?” Francesca asked, and then blushed with embarrassment. “I’m sorry, I don’t mean to be rude.”
“No, no, it’s okay. I could fit into baby diapers until I was around eight or nine; that wasn’t too long after they had come out with the size six. After that I was in Goodnites for a little while, but I had a couple of leaks, so mom tried a specialty youth diaper on me, and those were okay, but I liked the colorful prints and characters on baby diapers better. It was just more… fun to wear a colorful diaper than a plain one if I had to wear them at all.”
“How do you like the Classico, then?” Francesca asked, nodding at Jenny’s diaper.
The younger woman smiled broadly. “I really like it a lot,” she answered, rubbing the front of its plastic shell for emphasis, causing it to crinkle slightly in response.
Annie came in just then, and greeted Francesca and Jenny. “Hey, guys,” she said cheerfully. “What’s up?”
“Hey, Annie,” Francesca responded. “Just getting to know each other a little better.”
Annie smiled, pleased with that notion. “Good! How do you like it here, Jenny?”
“I like it a lot,” she answered. “I hope the next time one of these events happens, I’m able to come. Sometimes my work schedule doesn’t always cooperate.”
“Yeah, that happens to all of us at one point or another,” Annie commiserated. “It’s great that you’re enjoying it, though.”
An odor of human waste was beginning to permeate the room, causing Francesca to wonder who’s diaper was dirty. Surreptitiously, she patted the seat of her own diaper, as if to make sure she hadn’t completely taken leave of her senses—she felt no offending lump and was relieved. Neither Annie nor Jenny were inclined to comment on still-growing smell, causing Francesca to wonder which of them had done the deed while they made small talk. She privately suspected it was Annie, because Jenny seemed too new to the whole scene to be that bold her first night out. They continued to chat amiably, however, and Francesca contributed a few words here and there, trying her best not to gag when the smell got too strong. Eric came in a few moments later, perhaps tipped off to the dirty diaper by the wafting stink. He immediately checked Annie’s diaper, and confirmed Francesca’s suspicions that she was the culprit. It occurred to Francesca that she hadn’t seen if Annie had changed since they had left her apartment to come here; she was probably due for one, anyway. Sure enough, when Eric pulled down Annie’s sweats after he got her onto the changing table, her diaper was wet from top to bottom, front to back, or so it seemed. Eric opened Annie’s diaper and Francesca couldn’t help casually, but deliberately turning away when her eyes caught sight of the brown mass within. While Francesca understood the purpose of diapers and the game being played, it didn’t make it easier for her to see her friend so vulnerable, and so deliberately… infantile. There was a childish quality to wearing and using diapers, but the act of soiling them in that fashion was a category reserved for true babies, at least in Francesca’s opinion. Too, she found the act of fouling her diaper in that regard to be so uncomfortable as to be sickening. However, while that was her take on the matter, she declined to hold the act against her friends when they chose to proceed with it.
Francesca looked back to see Annie’s fresh Teddy diaper being taped on, but noticed Jenny’s rapt attention on the entire process, even as Eric bagged up Annie’s dirty diaper and dropped it into the diaper pail. She climbed off the changing table after Eric was done (and had pulled her pants back up), and came over to them. “We’re out in the living room playing games and stuff. Do you two want to join us?”
Jenny seemed to come out of a daze when the invitation was extended; she needed a moment to gather herself, causing Francesca to look at her with more focus. “Um… in a little bit. I kinda like hanging out in here, actually.” Jenny’s answer seemed reasonable enough, but something told Francesca that all was not as it seemed.
“That’s cool. Frankie?” Annie asked, shifting to her.
“I’ll be along in a little bit,” she answered.
Annie made a face. “Party poopers,” she said and then stuck her tongue out at them before flouncing out to the living room to join Sadie, Megan, Jane, and Sarah. Francesca looked at Jenny just in time to catch a fading hint of embarrassment in her expression. She was also gently feeling the seat of her diaper with both hands, as though experiencing something new. Jenny’s diaper was hardly damp, at least that Francesca could see, but once again, her inner voice was speaking to something being out of order.
“Jenny,” Francesca murmured; the younger woman looked at her. “Did you poop your diaper?” Jenny looked down and her cheeks flushed crimson, but she said nothing. “Come on, now, you can tell me if you did,” Francesca urged in a gentle tone. Jenny’s response was a nod. Francesca repressed a grimace and forged ahead. “May I check you?” Another nod. Francesca stepped over to her and gently patted Jenny’s bottom—the lump of waste was immediately apparent. “Do you need to, um… do anything else before you get changed?” Jenny shook her head. Francesca thought about going to get Eric, but then she remembered the rules for Level Two players; dirty diapers were outside his responsibilities at that level. It was up to the player to arrange for her own care in the event of a bowel movement. “Have you ever… done that before?”
“Um… I mean, I used to when I was little, but… not lately,” she admitted sheepishly. Her eyes were downcast for the admission, but when she finished they came back up to Francesca and the unspoken request was clear.
Francesca seemed to deflate. “Do… you want to be changed?” she asked. Jenny nodded.
“…Would you?” Jenny asked, barely a whisper.
Francesca really didn’t even want to think about it. All weekend long, her, Annie, and Sadie had deliberately avoided messing their diapers, just so they wouldn’t gross each other out. But, Francesca reasoned, if she didn’t change Jenny now, there was no telling how long she might sit in her own filth. Francesca found that she couldn’t trust Jenny’s mental state, and began to wonder if there was more to her play than met the eye.
“Okay, I’ll change you; hop onto the changing table and I’ll change your diaper.” This time, Jenny smiled and did as she was told. When she had settled herself down, Jenny let out a happy sigh and waited for Francesca to start. For her part, Francesca had to steel herself to the task before she could begin. She stalled for time by getting out another diaper and making sure everything she needed was close at hand. Once she began, though, she was determined to get through it as quickly as possible. She removed Jenny’s dirty diaper, but as soon as she had opened it she had to work hard not to recoil away in disgust at seeing someone else’s feces so up close and personal. Her hesitation was only a moment, and then Francesca was wiping Jenny’s bottom as quickly and completely as she could, before she balled the diaper up, tied it in a scented bag, and dropped it into the diaper pail. She returned to Jenny to finish cleaning her up, and then it was into a fresh diaper at a more leisurely pace now that the smell had begun to fade away at last, replaced by the scent of baby powder. She had only just pulled up Jenny’s diaper and was in the process of taping it shut when Eric brought Jane into the nursery.
“Oh, I’m sorry, I didn’t realize there was a change happening,” he said, somewhat embarrassed.
Francesca looked to Jenny for a brief moment, and saw the almost-fear in her eyes as she craned her head to look at Eric. Francesca brought Jenny’s attention back to her by firmly tucking the other wing of her diaper against her hip. “Almost done,” she said by way of answering Eric and reassuring Jenny. She taped the girl’s diaper closed and pulled her off the table gently, but with a firm insistence, so that Eric could change Jane. Thankfully, Jane was merely wet instead of messy, but Jenny still watched the diaper change all the same, even after Francesca had shuffled her back to the cribs. Her expression was glassy, almost as though she was drugged. Francesca was becoming more concerned by the moment, but Jane, freshly diapered, came over to them.
“You do a really good job of changing diapers,” she said.
“Huh? Oh! Thanks,” Francesca replied.
“Sure thing. Yeah, I mean, her diaper is on straight and it doesn’t look loose. Not everyone this new to the fetish can do it that well.”
Francesca frowned. “What do you mean?”
“I was talking to Annie out there, and she told me, sort of, how fresh you are to the scene. How do you like it?” Jane asked.
“Um… it’s growing on me,” she answered honestly. “I like the… solidarity? And the companionship. I’ve had a lot of fun with Annie and Sadie over the last couple weeks. Thanks for your compliment.”
Jane smiled. “You’re welcome. I’m glad you’ve fit in so quickly; I’m sure you’ve heard it a lot, but not everyone does. What sort of horror stories have you heard?” Francesca giggled a little bit and briefly recounted a couple of the more interesting stories that Annie and Sadie had told her. Jane laughed as well. “Yeah, I remember some of those girls. I’m glad they don’t come around anymore.”
Francesca nodded, and debated asking about other stories, but a sudden inspiration caused her to go a different route. “Jane… I hope you don’t mind me asking, but just how… deep down the rabbit hole do you go?”
Jane looked puzzled. “What do you mean?”
“How into this do you get? Or, how far have you gone?”
“Oh, you mean like how babyish have I behaved?” Jane asked; Francesca nodded. “Well, I tried the full-toddler a couple times, but it didn’t really jive. Now whenever I play, I typically behave like a four-year old, but more adult than child.”
Francesca nodded. “Have you seen any girls who have… gone full-toddler, or full-baby, and made it work?” she asked.
“Some have tried to go that far, but they haven’t been able to stay with it; I think the adult sensibilities ingrained from years and years of practice makes it too difficult; that’s what tripped me up the most. I couldn’t just… let go of who I was all the way.”
Francesca nodded slowly, intensely satisfied by what she had just heard; it was answering her questions about Jenny’s fragile state. Francesca wondered if that’s what Jenny really wanted; if she wanted the full-baby treatment, or if she was just so enamored with the entire concept that she was losing her grip on reality. On the other hand, she thought, what sort of traumatic events had she experienced at other points in her life that might have caused her to start flying back to diapers as a refuge? More importantly, Francesca thought sardonically, would she have to keep changing Jenny’s dirty diapers if she went deeper? She fervently hoped she wouldn’t ever have to do that again, but a tickle in her own bladder was answered with a gentle release and a warm glow.
Re: The Caretaker’s House -Chapters 1-17 - Updated 3/5/13
I’m happy to see another chapter in this most excellent story!
Re: The Caretaker’s House -Chapters 1-17 - Updated 3/5/13
Great chapter, I was beginning to wonder when we might see a new chapter. I didn’t have to wait long. Francesca seems to be taking on more of a mother role in this chapter. It was kind of forced on her but she seems to be handling it well. Will it continue? I look forward to finding out.
Re: The Caretaker’s House -Chapters 1-17 - Updated 3/5/13
I too am glad too see an update
Look forward to more updates
Re: The Caretaker’s House -Chapters 1-17 - Updated 3/5/13
Please continue.
Re: The Caretaker’s House -Chapters 1-17 - Updated 3/5/13
Is there going to be any more or is this story now dead??? ??? ??? ???
Re: The Caretaker’s House -Chapters 1-17 - Updated 3/5/13
More will be coming, eventually.
Re: The Caretaker’s House -Chapters 1-17 - Updated 3/5/13
Chapter Eighteen
The next morning found Francesca waking in her own bed tangled amongst the covers, naked except for her diaper, and still struggling to make sense of Jenny’s behavior from the previous night. She ordered the rest of her thoughts on her experiences easily enough, from watching diapers be changed to having her diaper changed, and her own final surrender to some age play as she had at last joined her friends in some childish games (such as Go-Fish with enormous, colorful cards), and at last the party’s end, late, far past midnight. Unwilling to get out of bed despite the mild discomfort of being wet, she simply relaxed and allowed the night’s collection in her bladder to empty into her diaper. The renewed warmth was comfortable in its own disgusting way, and she composed her mind to rest once more. Sleep did not come back, but the glorious sensation of being at rest and without responsibility was precious to her at that moment.
In the stillness, however, she reflected on her weekend to date: she had left work on Friday afternoon, and after she had gotten into her first diaper when she had returned to her apartment, she hadn’t been out of diapers, since. She had only changed herself a grand total of three times, and for all the other diapers she had worn, someone else had taken care of it. It was a strangely sobering thought, and she felt dirty and ashamed for… prostituting herself? No, that wasn’t it. There was no obvious pleasure given or received by the action; it had been an economical action rather than emotional, even when the Caretaker had changed her diaper. There had, however, been a great deal of emotion when Francesca finally got into her own car to leave Annie’s apartment complex. The further and further she had driven from Annie’s place, the more and more disgust and revulsion she felt until she was almost in tears as she put the key into her door. In a fit of self-disgust, she had stripped down to her diaper with the intention of taking a shower to wash away another supposed covering of filth and grime, but no sooner had she removed her shirt and bra, when her fingers were gripping the tabs of her diaper did she sigh out the last of her anger and allow her hands to fall to her sides. The diaper was only moderately used, anyway; more to the point, Francesca had just wanted to go to sleep so the day would be done at last.
Now, however, she was past the point of sleep; she resigned herself to the grim truth that her Sunday had started, so she disentangled herself from the bedding and got up. She was immediately chilled, so she pulled the quilt from the bed and wrapped herself in it before she shuffled to the kitchen for something to eat. She found a reasonable breakfast—or brunch, really—and after it was eaten, she shuffled into the living room to sprawl across the couch. Would it really be so bad, she wondered, to let someone just… take it all off of her shoulders? Francesca patted the sodden mass between her legs for a moment as she considered. She found it easy to wish for someone to be there right then to change her, unfortunately, which was not helping her maintain objectivity. She knew that if she was ever going to return to something approaching a normal state (or at least what was accepted as the ‘normal’ state), she was going to have to take steps, be they radical or gradual, to separate herself from diapers. But for the moment, she thought as she looked bleakly at her enormous remaining collection of diapers, the steps she was going to take involved one diaper at a time… or did it?
She didn’t have to wear all of them, she thought to herself. She could simply throw them away if she wanted to. What would it matter? They were going to end up in the garbage anyway, why bother going through the motions? It would be so easy, she thought, just to gather up the packages and take them to the dumpster, and then the problem would be solved. A waste, of course, but perhaps it would be a necessary waste? Francesca amused herself for several minutes considering the scenario of carting several boxes full of adult diapers, unused adult diapers no less, to the dumpster. She considered her inventory. There were a couple of bags of Teddy diapers left, and to her surprise, there were two unopened bags of Bianco diapers that she had forgotten about entirely. There were also a few bags of ABU Cushie diapers, since in her zeal (in hindsight, her foolishness) she had ordered more of the childish diapers than she had actually expected to use. Well, worst case scenario, she could give them to Annie… but wasn’t she going to throw them away? No, she decided. They had cost way too much money to simply be written off like that. One way or another, she reasoned, they would end up being used. Besides, Francesca really couldn’t give up diapers so soon, anyway; the case involving the Caretaker needed to be closed.
In the meantime, however, Francesca had work to do, starting with chores. She put on a sensible shirt, and went about dealing with the few chores that needed to be done. Francesca spent so little time in the apartment that it seemed to gather dust only from neglect rather than habitation, but even so, there were things that needed to be done, and Francesca was looking for excuses not to file reports or go through paperwork. To that end, she called Annie and invited her over for a late lunch, which gave Francesca an excuse to eliminate all traces of her FBI connection from plain view. She did so with great haste, making sure to secret all of the case files, her laptop, ID, and everything else that might have been a problem into a box which she then put on the top shelf in her closet behind another couple of boxes of odds and ends. It helped that the box was labeled ‘odds and ends’ rather than ‘clothes’ or ‘shoes’, which might have attracted unwanted attention from her friend.
It was just as well that she made hiding her true affiliation her top priority: Annie arrived with great haste, and almost burst through the door after being buzzed in. She was so excited to see Francesca’s place that she hardly looked put together at all; she had come over in basically whatever she had been wearing at the time, and so the two women looked much the same in terms of their hair not being done, neither of them having makeup on, or being as one might say, dressed for the day. In fact, Annie’s sweat pants had slid down a little over her bottom on her way over, enough that her diaper was clearly visible. Francesca noticed it, of course, but she didn’t say anything; instead she played the good hostess and showed Annie around her digs. “Good stash,” Annie remarked appreciatively when she saw the bags and boxes of Francesca’s diapers. “Not very organized, of course, but still a good stash.”
That gave Francesca an idea. “Well… I actually didn’t think anything about organizing them beyond stuffing them in a drawer,” she admitted, and then had an idea. “But, would you help me set up a… diaper closet?”
“Sure!” Annie beamed, and then went right to a hall closet that was close to the bathroom as if she knew the place inside and out. Francesca was momentarily suspicious, but then recalled that Annie had once lived in this same area, possibly even in a similar unit. It made sense that there would be a similarity of construction across multiple buildings and complexes, so she decided not to be worried. “Do you mind this closet? I know it’s not as private, but if you have guests over as often as I do, it won’t be a problem at all.”
Francesca opened her mouth to say something, then decided against it. She was silent for a moment while she considered. Well, she thought, I can always cover the stacks with towels or something. “Yeah, I think this closet is a good idea. Not too big, not too small, and I won’t miss it in the near-term.”
“Great! Let’s fill it,” she said, and she led Francesca to her room, where she began to gather the diapers by brand and style, giving Francesca some of the Bambinos while she grabbed the ABUs. Soon enough, the drawer and all of Francesca’s open bags of diapers were emptied, their contents neatly stacked in orderly columns, while the unopened bags were stored on the floor under the shelves. During the organization, Francesca made it a point to open a bag of the Bianco diapers to make sure they started to get used. “There. That’s more like it. Where are your wipes and stuff?”
“Uh… bathroom,” Francesca answered, gesturing. Annie retrieved them and put the wipes and powder in with the diapers.
“There,” she said when it was all said and done and the girls had reviewed their handiwork. “Much better.” Francesca didn’t disagree. Now I can use that drawer for clothes, she thought to herself, forgetting at that moment that she was only here temporarily.
“So, in the kitchen I have some food that I need to eat before it goes bad,” Francesca said as she headed that way on a whim. “I spend so much time hanging out with you and working that I don’t eat much of what I have,” she admitted, being mostly truthful.
Annie giggled. “Well, let’s see what you have and I’ll see about making a little dent in it,” she said cheerfully as she followed after Francesca. They settled on sandwiches of differing contents and sat at the small kitchen table to eat. Francesca wanted badly to talk about the previous night’s events, especially those that dealt with poor Jenny, but she couldn’t bring herself to open that door, just yet. Rather, she let Annie guide the conversation, and its cheerful banality helped Francesca stay on an even keel. However, after the dishes from lunch had been dealt with, Annie turned to Francesca and said, “time for a diaper change.”
Francesca was momentarily flabbergasted. “What?”
“You heard me. You need to be changed really bad. Your diaper is soaking wet.”
“Oh, uh…” Francesca looked down at herself to confirm the truth. “Yeah, I guess I do.”
“Come on, then. Besides, I need to be changed, also, so we might as well kill two birds with one stone.” Annie went to the diaper closet and opened it up, thoughtfully considering the contents while she did so. She selected a Teddy for herself, while Francesca picked a Bianco. Since Francesca didn’t have a changing mat, they spread a towel out on the floor and changed on that. She couldn’t help but be thankful for the dry diaper when it was on, and after Annie was changed, she left her pants off so that she and Francesca were dressed alike in just shirts and diapers.
“You’d never met Jenny before last night, right?” Francesca suddenly asked.
Annie shook her head. “No, not at all. She seems nice, though.”
Francesca nodded. “Yeah, she does. I’m actually wondering just how deep she’s going to get into it.”
“Really? What makes you think that?”
“Just the way she was playing last night. I mean, she showed up wearing a little kid’s pull-up—not the end of the world, mind you—but we were talking in the nursery and she leaked.”
Annie was surprised. “Really? I was wondering why she was so weird about leaving.”
“Yeah, she leaked pretty badly. Anyway, she didn’t… deal with it herself. I mean, she didn’t go and ask Eric for a change, she just sort of… stood there.”
Annie frowned. “Why in the world did she do that?”
“Because, she wanted me to change her. I mean, it wasn’t a big deal; I took care of it, and she was thankful. I think she’s afraid of Eric, right now, because while she watched him change everyone’s diapers, I got the impression that she wanted that level of care, but not from him.” Francesca took a breath to mentally prepare herself. “I mean, I bit the bullet last night and let him change my diaper, which… was kind of a trip—”
“You let him change you?!” Annie cried. “That’s awesome! Didn’t I tell you he was cool?”
Francesca laughed a little bit. “Yeah, you did. I mean, it was scary as hell, but he was good about it.”
Annie nodded, smiling all the while, and then nudged Francesca’s shoulder. “Now you’re really one of us, Frankie,” she said. Francesca wasn’t sure how to take that, so she took it as a compliment.
“Thanks,” she said. “That means a lot. But, anyway. Back to Jenny. She really sort of… went off the deep end for a little bit. Because, when she was watching you get your…” Francesca stumbled for a moment, trying to decide which word to use, “your dirty diaper changed,” she continued, “she actually messed herself.”
Annie was shocked. “You’re kidding.”
Francesca shook her head. “I wish I was. I dealt with that, as well, since she was only at level two, and she wasn’t going to change herself.”
“You should have just let her sit in it,” Annie opined.
“I thought about it for a moment, but… she had this look on her face that told me she actually would have, and it would have eventually been one of us who changed her, and I really didn’t want to deal with having to smell a shit-filled diaper for the rest of the night.”
“Well, I can’t say I agree with your choices, but I’m glad you were able to deal with it. You think that Jenny’s trying to like…”
“Go full baby?” Francesca filled in.
“Yeah,” Annie agreed.
“Maybe. She told me she had a history of bedwetting and had to wear diapers to bed growing up and all that, which explains the attachment.”
“Hmm.” Annie was thoughtful. “We’ve all thought about going full baby, and there are ways to do it and not be a bitch about it, of course; all of us think about it at least once or twice. Maybe we get so far along and then we realize it’s more of a pain than it’s actually worth, and we find a balance, like I did. I wear panties to work, and diapers the rest of the time.” Annie shrugged. “It seems to work just fine.”
Francesca mulled that over. “That makes sense, but… I don’t know. I think Jenny wants to try going full baby, but just… isn’t ready to let go?”
Annie shrugged again. “Maybe. But, that’s for her to decide. One thing that Eric’s really cool about is he doesn’t force anything on anyone, like I’ve said before. You pick a pace and he sticks to it, like he should. Ultimately, how far we go is up to us. Jenny will have to make that same decision herself.” She looked at Francesca with more intensity. “So, don’t feel bad about whatever you did or didn’t do last night. Whether or not Jenny is all there, she’s still a big girl. She can think for herself. And… who knows. If she thinks going full baby is what’s best for her, then who are we to say anything against it? The only time it sucks is when it gets in the way of our game, but that’s just part of life, I guess. Have to make the best of it.”
Their train of thought made Francesca curious. “Annie, I’m wondering… and, please don’t take this the wrong way or think I’m nosy or something, but…” she hesitated. “Would you ever think about… going full baby? Again, I mean, like… making a real effort to do it.”
Annie shook her head no almost immediately. “It just doesn’t work. I can’t let go of my adult side, and really, I don’t want to let all the way go and let someone else have that kind of power over me. It’s scary, really, which is why I love going to Eric’s so much. I get to be taken care of, but I know that there’s lines he won’t cross, and if I’m feeling weird, I can just say the safe word or something.”
Francesca nodded. “Thanks. I mean, I’m sorry if I’m being nosy…”
“Don’t worry about it,” Annie said with a smile.
“…But I’m just so curious. Jenny’s attitude was something I’ve never seen before. Must be because I’m still pretty new to this,” Francesca pondered.
“Sometimes I forget you are; you’ve fit in really well. Also, you have a good diaper stash, and I feel comfortable like this around you, which is not small praise, mind you,” Annie teased.
Francesca smiled. “Thanks. That means a lot.”
Annie smirked. “It should. Whenever I hang out with Sadie, the girl has almost nothing to change into.” Then Annie giggled a little bit.
“Have you ever leaked in public?” Francesca asked.
Annie blushed, but nodded. “I was totally careless, and it really sucked. It would have sucked worse if I had been wearing brighter-colored pants, but thankfully they were darker and I was able to cover it up until I got home.”
“Wow, that’s crazy,” Francesca said, truly amazed. She had only worn diapers in public—with nothing to cover them—but the idea of leaking, and the similar ideas of no control over her own body, linked with the completely infantile notion of filling her diaper until it could take no more sounded terrible to her.
“Yeah, not one of my best moments. The worst part about it was, I didn’t realize I was that wet until I sat down… and felt it squish out. That’s what nearly did me in, but I managed to survive. It was a near-run thing, though,” she chuckled. “That’s probably why I carry at least two spare diapers in my car, now. Just in case.”
Francesca nodded at the wisdom of that course, but silently resolved to establish a line between her regular self and her diapered self. She had walked on the wild side of the tracks, so to speak, for the weekend, and now it was time to set herself back onto the normal side, because there was work to be done. She didn’t know why things had been delayed with the investigation into the Caretaker, but she knew that sooner or later (she hoped sooner), there would be some sort of break and then it would all be over, one way or another.
“Earth to Francesca.”
She startled out of her thoughts and looked at Annie. “I’m sorry, what?”
Annie was smiling at her with great good humor. “You totally spaced out there for a minute. If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you’d just wet your diaper, but I can see from here that you’re dry.” Her expression became mischievous. “Did you poop your diaper, instead?” She asked as she semi-tackled Francesca to find out.
“What?! No! I did not poop my diaper!” Francesca protested, even as she weakly resisted Annie checking her. She felt a couple of pats on her bottom.
“Guess not. That’s a relief, because I like you, Frankie, and while that can mean a lot, it sure doesn’t mean I want to deal with that kind of stink.”
Francesca had no effective retort to that, and the best she could come up with on short notice made Annie fall over laughing. She stuck her tongue out at Annie, in the process making herself appear her most infantile to that point.
Re: The Caretaker’s House -Chapters 1-18 - Updated 6/17/13
love the story can’t wait for more. maybe she try some babying?
Re: The Caretaker’s House -Chapters 1-18 - Updated 6/17/13
Chapter Nineteen
Francesca and Annie spent the rest of the afternoon together hanging out and talking before Annie excused herself on the basis of chores. “I haven’t done laundry in a while, and I need to finish cleaning up after our weekend, so I better head out.”
Francesca understood Annie’s needs, and wasn’t sorry to see her friend go for once. “Yeah, I know the story. I better check into my laundry, too… it feels like I haven’t worn panties in so long that I don’t even have any to start with.”
Annie chuckled. “Yeah, be careful of that. You might get too used to diapers that you forget you aren’t wearing one. That’s happened to me before. Anyway, see you!” she finished cheerfully, disappearing down the hall and down the stairs, leaving a somewhat confused Francesca in her wake. A confused and only half-dressed Francesca. She recollected herself, realized her diaper was on display, and hastily retreated back into her apartment and the safety of a closed and locked door. She went about attending to the chores she had left, and was somewhat chagrined to realize that not much needed to be done. What little there was didn’t take long, and Francesca resigned herself to digging out her FBI materials and going to work. She had a lot of reporting to do, and the bureaucracy of the FBI was particular on the article of paperwork. Either it was done and done correctly, or there was trouble. Plus, Francesca had no idea how much longer she was going to be in town, and she decided it wouldn’t be smart to leave loose ends undone that would follow her back home. Thankfully, the paperwork wasn’t difficult, just mundane.
However, it was mundane enough that she soon became bored with it, and though Francesca made it a point to continue trudging through it, she reached stopping points frequently enough that she was able to consume a large portion of the early evening between work and reruns of favorite TV shows on Netflix and Hulu. She had been without TV for so long that she had catching up to do on favorite programs, and they helped to dull the monotony. What also dulled the monotony was a need to empty her bowels. Once the urge began to manifest, Francesca was torn between letting it happen in her diaper and going to the bathroom like a normal adult. The fact that she was torn surprised her yet again, as she had thought her curiosity more than satisfied when she had first messed an adult diaper. However, the curiosity had awoken itself, and Francesca wasted precious minutes carrying on the mental argument with herself while the pressure grew. She had been present when both Annie and Sadie messed their diapers, she had dealt with Jenny’s poopy diaper, and she had seen Sarah’s dirty diaper change at the Caretaker’s House. Apparently, as disgusting as it was, it wasn’t such a big deal that otherwise normal adults allowed themselves to soil their pants like the toddlers they only pretended to be. What was the big deal if Francesca, out of apparently unsatisfied curiosity, did the same in the privacy of her own living space? The mess would be a bitch to clean up, she thought to herself. She rationalized it away by deciding that since she had yet to shower, she would mess her diaper, deal with it, and then take a shower. With that thought in mind, she grimly set herself to the task of allowing herself to relax, rather than forcing the issue immediately. She made herself comfortable, put a TV show on Hulu to watch to pass the time, and waited for the inevitable. Besides, her diaper was already wet from casual use.
Francesca didn’t have to wait a very long time. Once her body realized she was committed to the action, it finished letting go as well, and soon after, the seat of her diaper began to fill. She only had to push a little bit to help it along, and then that was that. As soon as it was done, however, she regretted her decision to mess herself. She regretted it even more when she tried to get up off the couch in such a way as to avoid spreading the mess across her bottom and failed; she lost her grip and footing for a moment long enough to bring her bottom pressing down against the mess in her diaper, and the sudden shock of having it pushed against her skin caused her to recoil away from the couch with enough violence to send her sprawling to her living room floor. “Well, that was graceful,” she groused. Worse, now her mess was lying against her skin regardless. Carefully, she got to her feet and waddled her way to her bathroom where she undressed, took off her dirty diaper, disposed of the solid waste in the toilet, wiped herself as clean as she could so she would have less to deal with once in the shower, wrapped up the diaper, and then she stepped into the tub.
When she emerged from the shower, she decided against regular underwear and instead put on an ABU Cushie, figuring that she would need to change again before bed. As she became more and more experienced in the hobby of wearing adult diapers, she found the capacity of ABU diapers lacking by comparison to Bambino, nor were the ABUs as comfortable. However, they were adorable, and she did need to use them up. Francesca also put on her onsie that she hadn’t worn in ages, settled on a light snack to serve as a sort of dinner, and then she returned to paperwork and re-runs of TV shows on the Internet.
During an advertisement, Francesca revisited her thoughts from the previous week regarding her desire to wear diapers, and her own inability to declare with finality that she did not want to wear them, as well as her experiences over the weekend that made her want to stay in diapers. Some of them had been strange experiences, but she had already found it impossible to consider wearing diapers wrong, as well as using them for their intended purpose. Sure, she did not at all like the feeling of dirty diapers, but diapers themselves didn’t feel that much different when compared to menstrual pads; really, they was the same thing, just on a larger, less easily concealed fashion, and the served the same purpose, more or less. Francesca wondered just how difficult it would be for her to have a lifestyle like Annie; go to work dressed like a big girl, come home and become a little one. It wouldn’t be hard at all, she reflected. She could easily store diapers in her normal apartment, and it would make trips to the Laundromat easier: she could literally wash all of her undergarments at the same time. Though, it was a silly way to justify her hobby, anything positive was anything positive.
By the time it was late enough for Francesca to consider bed, she also needed to consider a dry diaper. She decided to sleep in her onesie, but what to wear under it? She looked at her collection thoughtfully, and decided on a Bianco before going to her bedroom to change. The process of opening her onesie and changing her own diaper made her feel childish, but she wished that Annie or Sadie, or even the Caretaker, was there to do it for her. But, none of them were, and she accomplished the task alone, snapping the onesie’s crotch flaps back into place over her dry diaper at last. Francesca then found herself both realizing and admitting to herself that she liked having her diapers… changed by someone else. It was a terrible thought, but also sobering. Well, that was something she would either have to come to terms with, or else use as inspiration to get away from diapers, regardless of how much she liked them. The idea of someone pawing around her privates on a routine basis did not appeal to her, but when linked with the necessity of changing a wet diaper, she found herself considering it to be okay. Agent Thompson’s admonition to her several days previously came back, then, and she wondered just how far down the rabbit hole she had gone, and if she was getting close to some sort of point of no return. That thought troubled her until sleep claimed her at last.
When she awoke the next morning to the irritating shrieking of her alarm, she wished devoutly that it was still the weekend, because—like almost everyone on a Monday morning—she did not want to go to work. The thought lasted only a few moments before she began to move and got herself into a sitting position on the edge of her bed. Francesca had to resist the temptation to fall back across her bed and catch five more minutes of sleep, so she focused on the moment by relieving herself into her diaper. When she stood to head to the bathroom to begin getting ready for the day, she felt an unfamiliar tug as her onesie fought against the soaked padding between her legs; it made her chuckle a little, and she patted her wet bottom as she walked. She wished that wearing diapers to work wasn’t so completely out of the question as to be laughable. Francesca was sure that only quietly disappearing to the farthest reaches of the Aleutian Islands of Alaska for ten years would be the only salvation for her if she were discovered.
When she finished getting ready for work, the feeling of her regular underwear—something she hadn’t worn since Friday—was almost a new experience. However, the newness went away quickly enough as the old sensations of familiarity reasserted themselves, and with them a sense of grounding. This was normal adult wear. This is what normal, working adults wore outside. Diapers were the abnormal. Francesca centered herself on that thought, gathered her briefcase and necessary hardcopy documents, and then left for the office.
She barely had time to settle at her desk before she was pulled into a briefing with a collection of other agents and headed by Agent Thompson, who wasted no time getting to the point. “Alright, people, good news. We got our warrants for the Caretaker’s House approved. We’ve got a reasonable amount of time to conduct surveillance on phone lines and Internet, as well as a search warrant for the premises itself. Agent Bowden has also worked up a very basic profile on the Caretaker himself, along with some of the people he associates with. Now. Let’s be clear on a number of things, people.” Thompson’s tone of voice changed as he shifted gears. “Firstly, the execution of these warrants is to be as subtle and quiet as possible. This isn’t just from me, this is from the judge who signed the warrants. He doesn’t want this town implicated in the case at large if it doesn’t need to be. We get in, we get what we need, and we get out. Clear?” There were affirming nods around the room. “Secondly, we are not dealing with narcotics, prostitution, illegal trafficking, black market goods, and so forth. This is a haven for an alternative lifestyle exploration.” Thompson paused to look around the room, and Francesca wondered where he was going with his speech. “As such, we must maintain the professional and personal mindset that this person, the Caretaker, and those who frequent his home are innocent until proven guilty. Our target is not those who visit his home; our endgame goal is to determine with conclusive finality whether or not the Caretaker is at all implicated in this child pornography ring. If he ends up being clean, we’re going to forget he even exists. We need to keep that in mind, and I do mean at the forefront of our minds, because if we screw this up and this guy gets some hotshot lawyer in his corner, we’re going to be in the deepest possible shit with all manner of special interests groups looking to exploit this for their own benefit, and we do not need a political clusterfuck. Do I make myself clear?” Again, affirming nods all around the room.
“The reason I’m going into all of this now, is because we’re going to be executing the search warrants while the subject is away from his home. We’re going to track his movements, establish a profile on his comings and goings, and when we’re certain we’ll have a window large enough to search when he is not at home, that’s when we’re going in. We’ll be operating out of a cable repair van for most of the electronic surveillance, while actual ground surveillance and search will be done by teams under cover as municipal employees. We’re already in touch with the appropriate departments of the city works in order to make sure this is properly facilitated.” Here Thompson paused and looked around again. “Folks, we’re close to wrapping this up, one way or another. We need this off of our plates so the big shots everywhere else can close this up. Agent Bowden,” he said, causing Francesca to startle slightly. “What can we expect to find in this place?”
Francesca quickly assembled her thoughts. “The house itself is a typical single family home. Typical living room and kitchen, and it’s likely the Caretaker’s personal bedroom is about what one would expect a bachelor’s bedroom to be.” At this there were a few stifled smiles around the room. “Down the main hallway on the first floor are a couple of rooms; one of them is a room where a great deal of the alternative lifestyle… roleplay… happens, and it is furnished accordingly. I’ve investigated the room fairly significantly, and at face value, nothing of interest appears to be there. There’s a typical bathroom, and then at the end of the hall is a room that the Caretaker uses as an office, across from what I can only assume is his bedroom. At least one personal computer is there, along with all manner of his personal and professional correspondence. He requests that his guests remain outside of that room unless he invites them into it or gives permission for them to be there. I have not had an opportunity to more thoroughly consider the contents, or to see what might or might not be in his bedroom.”
Thompson nodded. “Thank you, Agent Bowden. We’ll be getting a full floor plan from city records, and I would like you to sit with the teams that will be going in and brief them in greater detail about what is where so they have a better road map going in. Okay, people, that’s it for now. Let’s get back to it.” The meeting broke up and everyone went back to either their offices or their desks. Francesca spent most of the morning dealing with reports, files, and assorted other paperwork pertaining to her elements of the case. She also had to attend to some work from her home office, which made for enough of a diversion from her current work to actually be interesting. While she was finishing up her filing for her home office, she very nearly soaked her chair. Only by the grace of God and a hasty recovery did she avoid the colossal embarrassment of wetting herself in the middle of the office. The shock was so great that she had to take a moment to breathe while working harder than she ever had before to keep her expression neutral so as not to draw attention to herself. She could feel it, however. She could feel that several drops, if not part of a stream had escaped into her panties, and possibly also her pants. Worse, now she needed to pee even more, a fact made very prominent by the ever-so-slowly weakening throb in her pelvis. However, she was not about to get up if there was a potentially enormous wet spot on her crotch. Francesca forced herself to remain seated at her desk and working until she felt that it might be safe to at least check and see how bad the damage was. She pulled her chair up as close to her desk as she could, carefully slipped a hand to her waist and then between her legs to check for wetness. She almost lost her carefully crafted expression then as her fingers came into contact with a damp patch of her slacks. She bit back one mental curse after another at her stupidity, and then decided that it was better to have done with it now rather than later. Plus, since it was getting closer to lunch, there weren’t a lot of people around right that very moment.
As quickly as she could without looking overly hurried, she grabbed her purse, retreated to the safety of the bathroom and a locked stall and nearly burst into tears. She had to take a minute to calm herself. Francesca found it hard to even think about being calm, but she forced herself to suppress the emotions that threatened to come pouring out of her due to sheer necessity. When she was finally able to relieve herself, she was equally relieved to see that the wet spot hadn’t been that big at all. No one would even be able to see it before it dried unless they were doing their very best to look for it. Regardless, the fact that it was even present was evidence of a serious and potentially dangerous lapse in personal judgment, not to mention situational awareness. Agent Francesca Bowden had almost peed her chair. In the middle of the FBI. It had happened almost without thought, too. That’s what made it the most damning. She had felt the familiar need to void her bladder, and, owing to her weekend in diapers, she had simply let nature take its course as though absorbent undergarments now formed a routine part of her working wardrobe. She had nearly publicly disgraced herself in front of her peers, endangered her role in the undercover element of the case, and worse, now her pants would smell like urine. Thank God it was time for lunch. She decided she would use the excuse of spilling something on her clothes while out eating, and rather than come back looking like a slob, she had gone back to her apartment to change. Yes. That would do nicely.
Francesca composed herself, winced at the feeling of her wet underwear against her skin, and spent a few moments in front of the mirror making sure her hair and makeup was all right before she left the restroom and then the building. She went to her apartment first, quickly shed her pants and panties, wiped her groin and inner thighs with a wet wipe she otherwise would have used for diaper changes, entertaining the demented notion of putting on a diaper for the rest of the work day. She got as far as wondering which of her slacks would best hide the padding and crinkle before her phone rang. Still naked from the waist down, she answered it. It was someone from the office.
“This is Francesca,” she greeted the caller.
“Hey Bowden; it’s Bart. The plans for the Caretaker’s House just came in. I didn’t see you at your desk; are you out to lunch?” The familiar voice of Bart Clayton asked.
Francesca gaped for a moment. “Yes,” she answered. “Uh… do you guys need me back right this second?”
“Honestly no, because I’m about to go to lunch myself, and I bet the guys who’ll be in the briefing will be heading out soon, themselves. How about I set up a meeting for about 1:15?” Bart suggested.
Francesca closed her eyes in relief. “Yeah, that’ll be fine. I’ll be back way before then.”
“Good deal. I’ll tell the guys. See you,” he said, and the call ended.
She heaved out a sigh. Then she looked down at her bare legs. “Best to cover up,” she muttered to herself. The temptation to put on a diaper was powerful. She regretted not having any cloth-like diapers; she’d heard about a variety of brands and styles that were supposed to be very discreet…
No. Francesca selected a pair of slacks that were almost a carbon copy of the pair she had put on that morning, albeit with a slightly different color. Fortunately, she wouldn’t have to change her entire outfit to work with the new slacks, and it was simply a matter of putting on a pair of clean panties—with a maxi pad for safety—putting on the slacks, and she was able to leave barely five minutes after she had arrived, and actually go to lunch and enjoy her meal as though nothing at all was out of the ordinary. Francesca wasn’t aware of how necessary those simple actions were to re-center herself as a functional adult until she was actually undertaking them.
Terrible thoughts clouded her mind. If the morning’s partial accident was a harbinger of things to come, she was going to have to make a serious decision about her diapers much sooner than she had anticipated, because Francesca had not anticipated even considering the fact that she might end up wearing them full-time with a legitimate medical need to do so: that need being an inability to control her bladder due to her own personal self-sabotage. That thought alone nearly upset the calm she had fought hard to maintain.
Re: The Caretaker’s House -Chapters 1-19 - Updated 7/7/13
Chapter Twenty
All the rest of the work day, Francesca was petrified of wetting her pants, again. It made it difficult for her to concentrate on some of her more basic tasks, at least until she shook herself out of it long enough to focus and resume working. Soon, she told herself. Soon, this would all be over. Now that warrants were coming back from the local judge signed and approved, the FBI could really get to work on the Caretaker, and Francesca hoped the whole thing would blow over sooner rather than later. She wondered if she still had a diaper in her car, tucked under the front seat…
No! Focus! Francesca had to yell at herself internally in order to push those thoughts from her mind. It was a major distraction, and while she glared angrily at her computer screen, she realized she had made a couple of clerical and grammatical errors. Momentarily embarrassed, she took the necessary time to correct them, and then glumly went through several other documents to proof them as well. Fortunately, there hadn’t been any others. However, Francesca couldn’t help but wonder just how much she was reeling from her near-disaster of the morning. It was enough to make her prone to error in otherwise routine work. That in and of itself was a telling sign that all was not well. She stood from her desk and took a walk to clear her head and stretch her legs… as well as visit the restroom. Her paranoia was at a fevered pitch, and when it came time to meet with the team regarding the layout of the Caretaker’s House, Francesca felt nauseated. The meeting with the team had been postponed from 1:15 until closer to the end of the day, and it left her on edge. She wanted it to be done and over with so she could go home. Well, back to her apartment. The lines were blurring between calling it home and her apartment, however. She shook that thought away, irritated with herself.
When the time finally came, she went to the meeting room and found several people there, men and women both, and the table was being slowly covered with plans and diagrams: the house in question along with the street itself. Fortunately, Thompson was there to be a steadying presence. “Francesca Bowden, this is Jim Bates. He’ll be leading the team that will execute the, uh… how did you put it, Jim?”
“Soft touch,” Jim Bates said. Francesca scrutinized him for a moment. Average height, average build, average looks, all of which was a mask for the high level of competence that his eyes betrayed. Francesca was encouraged by what she saw. Hopefully, the guy was beyond prejudice, as well.
“Soft touch, yeah, that’s a good way to call it,” Thompson agreed. “Bates and his people will be searching the place while the subject is not at home. Once again, because of the delicate nature of this case, we will be making every effort to maintain this man’s innocence until or unless he is proven guilty by virtue of evidence found in his residence.” Thompson paused for effect, and appropriately, no one filled the silence. “Bowden, what can we expect?”
Francesca let out a breath as she approached the table and looked down at the plans, taking a moment to look at them and orient herself to the layout. She picked up a capped pen and began to speak. “The front door opens into a typical living room with equally typical furnishings. No TV, no stereo, no computer; it’s a sitting room, mostly. Dining room is over here, and the kitchen is here,” she said, gesturing. Out of the corner of her eye she noticed that Bates’ people were taking notes. “Down this hallway is where things get interesting. These two rooms are… well, the focal point of the entire place. The smaller of the two is what the Caretaker uses as an office. Here is where he conducts most of, if not all, of his personal business. At least one computer, TV, printer, and other related peripherals are all in this room. I didn’t see any cameras, but that doesn’t mean he doesn’t have them elsewhere. This room is what I can only assume is his bedroom. I haven’t been in there, nor do I know what it might contain.” Francesca paused before she continued to gather herself. She felt as though she were about to step headlong over a cliff. “This room,” she indicated the space she knew to be the nursery, “is the focus of all the role play that goes on in this place. It is styled as a nursery, complete with all necessary furniture, including—but not limited to—a crib, a changing table, closet stocked with appropriate clothing, and… all necessary supplies related to caring for infants and toddlers.” Francesca couldn’t bring herself to say ‘diapers and wipes.’ “However, all of this furniture, all of the clothing and supplies… are not meant for children. Everything is scaled to adult sizes, the crib, changing table, clothes, everything. While there are stuffed animals in this room, they’re all big. None of them are small or apparently meant for children.” She hoped, fervently hoped, that it was all true, too. If the Caretaker was involved in this case as a guilty party rather than a victim of happenstance… she had no idea how she would handle it. Nor did she have the slightest idea how she would break it to Annie.
When it became clear that Francesca was finished, several agents looked at each other and shuffled about awkwardly. Finally, Bates broke the silence. “Um… you’ve seen all of this? Personally?”
His question made Francesca wonder how much Bates had been read into the case. “Yes, I have. I have been inside the house while accompanying participants in the Caretaker’s role play sessions. I have observed the role play sessions, and… participated in them… enough to maintain my cover and establish camaraderie with the others in order to preserve relationships should this case require more time.” Francesca couldn’t help but flush slightly with embarrassment.
“Bowden, what is your present assessment of the Caretaker?” Thompson asked after a few moments of awkward silence.
Francesca thought about her reply for a few moments. “He’s a nice guy, at face value. He’s genuinely interested in what he’s doing, and the… women who participate in the role play sessions are all very comfortable with him, as well. He doesn’t give me any… creepy vibes, for lack of a better term.”
“Do you think he’s capable of hiding something as dangerous as what we’re after?” Thompson pressed.
Francesca let out another breath. “I hope not, sir, I really do. However, it is possible that there’s a monster behind the smile. If there is… well, he’s got these people so fooled and his alternative preferences so separated from what happens during the role play that no one is the wiser.”
“What kind of people frequent his sessions?” Bates asked.
“Normal people,” Francesca answered. “They have lives and jobs. They participate as a stress relief from whatever grinds they go through Monday through Friday. Some of them are frequent participants, others are only occasional participants.”
Thompson spoke up again. “What she’s saying is only an underscore for what we’re working with here, people. Regardless of what we might feel about this after we’ve gone in and seen it for ourselves, we have to remember that there are a lot of lives on the line here that could be seriously and adversely affected by what we do… or what we fail to do. Is that clear?” No one argued the point. “Agent Bates, do you have any additional questions for Agent Bowden?”
“Yes, thank you. Agent Bowden, have you seen any indications of security beyond locking doors?” Bates asked. “Any sort of alarm panel, anything like that?”
Relieved that he was asking technical questions, Francesca shook her head. “Nothing stood out to me as being an alarm panel, and all the walls by the front door were bare of anything like that. All I saw were typical light switches and outlets. Everything about this guy’s house screamed of ‘average Joe,’ with the exception of the supersized nursery. I have no idea what sort of security might be on his computer, however.”
Bates was nodding. “That first part is good to know. Whatever we can do to avoid tipping off the subject, the sooner we can get the job done.” Bates looked around, apparently taking control of the briefing. “Alright, we’re going in with a typical public works cover. We’ll have a utility van making the rounds of this neighborhood all this week in order to establish a solid cover for the vehicle to be there. Bonus: the city is actually engaging in public works maintenance, so people will see actual public works employees doing their jobs; that means anyone who talks about it likely will not pay too much attention to it. Before we go in, we’ll execute a vehicle swap with the city; their guys will pull out, our guys will drive in. I’ll be in the van with Wilson and Powell, while Lewis and Davis will make the entrance. They’ll make a soft entry through the front unless someone’s out and about, in which case they’ll go around the back. Once they’re inside, they will be wearing covers over their shoes to guard against dirt and to help disrupt whatever foot prints might be left in the carpet. Standard search procedure will happen from there, minus dusting for finger prints and actually removing physical evidence. They will copy the subject’s hard drive from his computer without accessing anything on site, along with any materials from any portable drives found on the premises and in the open. Once they conduct a visual sweep of the residence and complete the copy of the subject’s data, they will make a soft exit, return to the van, and we’ll return to base soon after.” Having outlined his operation, Bates paused and looked around with a rueful smile. “On paper it looks good, and what I just said sounds really good, but we all know that the best laid plans of mice and men often go awry, so my people will be on their toes. Agent Thompson, if you can spare anyone else who can assist us logistically, I would appreciate it.”
“Thank you, Bates. Bowden, normally I’d like you to make yourself available for Bates to use you as necessary; you have the most firsthand experience with this place, and with the Caretaker. But, in this case I’d like you to remain available to run interference if things start to go sideways,” Thompson said.
Francesca nodded, and hoped her relief wasn’t showing. “I’ll do what’s needed,” she said, trying to sound confident.
Bates seemed concerned enough by Thompson’s decision to ask a question. “Do you think there’s a possibility of things getting hairy?”
Thompson shrugged. “I’m not sure, and I honestly don’t think so. But, if we start encountering trouble, I want Bowden to be able to respond to it quickly. She can’t move quickly if she’s in the van or in the residence.”
Bates nodded thoughtfully. “Works for me.”
The briefing ended on that note, and Francesca retreated at once. She headed back to her desk to resume working, all the while unable to keep from counting the minutes until she could leave. Fortunately, no one stopped by her desk to chat, dump more work on her, or otherwise make a time-delaying nuisance of themselves, and when the work day officially came to an end, she had to restrain herself from leaving the building at a run. When she got into her car, she fumbled under her seat for a moment until her fingertips brushed up against the plastic bag into which she had put a clean diaper many days earlier. The temptation to put it on right that moment was almost overpowering, but the simple fact that the diaper was there, that if she needed it she could use it, that was comfort enough, and it gave her enough of a focus to drive to her apartment without becoming a risk to herself or to anyone else on the road.
Once back within the safety of her residence, Francesca quickly shed her pants and underwear in favor of a Bambino Teddy diaper, which she laid out on the floor. Her stress and worry disappeared with each tape she attached to the front, and when she was safely diapered, Francesca just lay there in a state of blissful relaxation, the sensation of her relief at once again being in a diaper being unbelievably powerful. It was too powerful a bliss for Francesca to realize at that moment that she was addicted to her diapers on at least one level, possibly on many others as well. Right then, she didn’t care. She had her diaper on. She couldn’t have an accident, now. Her diaper would keep her floors, furniture, and clothes safe from anything. She couldn’t embarrass herself in public, either. That’s what her diaper was for, to keep such things from being a problem. Even if she did have an accident or forget she was a big girl, that’s why she was wearing a diaper. Diapers were for people who couldn’t get to the bathroom in time. Diapers kept them safe. Francesca needed to be safe. More importantly, she needed to feel safe.
How safe did she need to be, really? That was an important question. Francesca got up off of the floor and walked to the kitchen to get a drink from the refrigerator, thinking as she moved. How safe was too safe? Well, that was an important question, she thought to herself as she filled a glass with water and ice and walked back to the bedroom. She considered her meager wardrobe of professional attire as she took off her blouse and stood before her closet in just a bra and diaper. Feeling experimental, Francesca took another pair of slacks she knew to be looser off of the hanger and tried to put them on over her diaper. The fabric of the slacks couldn’t handle the strain of trying to fit over the thick padding, now made thicker as it was folded and pushed around wrapping around her body as she moved. Well, those were out, she thought to herself with a grimace as she replaced them in the closet. Next, she took one of her skirts. Sadly, it was much the same story; the skirt was too tight around her waist and thighs to adequately hide her diaper. It made her butt look enormous and the padding bunched enough in the front that it looked like she had something to hide. That thought made her giggle as she took the skirt off and likewise put it back in the closet.
After a few more minutes of trial and error with her clothes, Francesca reached the conclusion that none of her professional attire would adequately conceal a bambino diaper. That conclusion was important, because she didn’t want to wear the ABU diapers to work. Firstly, she didn’t like them enough to wear them for an entire working day, and secondly she didn’t trust their capacity. Based on her experience to that point with Bambino diapers, she was reasonably confident that if she had to, she could go an entire working day without needing a diaper change, or at worst, only needing to change once. That was a comforting thought. She would be safe for an entire day at work.
Francesca walked to her diaper closet and considered her inventory. The Bianco diapers would be her first line of defense, she thought to herself. They didn’t have any cartoon prints on them, and while that made them boring, it also made them more professional. They would fit into her office world. The Teddy diapers, while she liked them better, just didn’t strike her as a good idea. Besides, she needed to use up her Bianco diapers, and she estimated that it would be several days before she felt safe enough to go to work without wearing a diaper. The Biancos would see a lot of use during those days. It was a perfect solution to her problem of over-abundant inventory.
The next problem was her wardrobe. Nothing she had would adequately conceal her diapers, so that meant she needed to go shopping for some new clothes. That was a happy thought, because she hadn’t gone shopping in a while, and getting out by herself would probably clear her head. Maybe she would treat herself to a pair of new shoes while she was at it. Francesca put on a simple shirt and a pair of pants that she knew would hide her diaper, grabbed her purse and keys and headed out. She didn’t know where the local mall was, or even if there was one, so she simply headed for an area she knew was home to retail shopping. Sure enough, within ten minutes of driving, she discovered a small shopping center that had several stores, but the major presence was Kohl’s. Perfect.
Once inside she headed for the section that contained clothes intended for business, and began to browse around. Francesca decided against trying to find slacks that would do the job, and instead focused on finding skirts and dresses. She had little difficulty locating several examples as a starting point, and retreated to a fitting room quickly. She suppressed a grimace at the possibility of being watched on a video camera, and determined to avoid looking up or around. For a moment, she felt embarrassment at taking off her pants in what amounted to a public place—even though she was in a fitting room with a door that filled its frame, instead of being a partial door—and she quickly stepped into the first skirt to cover up. Francesca frowned at her reflection in the mirror. The skirt was still too snug. She could clearly see the slight bulge of padding in the front, and when she turned her body to present her profile to the mirror, she could see enough of a bulge in the back that it wouldn’t look natural. With a sigh, she took off the skirt, put it back on its hanger, and tried on another one.
The second skirt produced better results. There were no unnatural bulges in front or in back, and that for Francesca was a piece of good news. She examined herself in the skirt for a while longer, turning this way and that, and wondered how its color would work with what she had. Maybe she would pick up another top or two… just to give herself some variety. Either way, it looked like the skirt she was wearing was a keeper. She put it back on its hanger and kept it separate from what she thought of as her ‘rejects’ pile. Next came another skirt, one that was pleated and very loose below the waistband. She was concerned that it might be too loose, and instead of concealing, might flap around too much and reveal her secret that much easier. She walked around the small fitting room, and even tried jumping around, bending over, kicking her knees up, and twirling to see what would happen. Well, with extreme motion, yes, the skirt would reveal her diaper. But, if she was only walking around from place to place and going about her business in a normal, unhurried fashion, it seemed more than likely that Francesca wouldn’t have a problem with the skirt betraying her. No, what Francesca instead had to worry about was her diaper betraying her. When she had been moving around, a powerful amount of crinkling was audible. She had no idea how far that crinkling would carry through the office, so she resolved to find something to go over her diaper to muffle it.
That’s when it occurred to her that she could wear her onesie. It was perfect. It would help to mask the presence of her diaper, and since it was plain white, there was no reason to worry that it would be out of place in any outfit she decided to wear. The only problem was that she had but one of them, and wondered if she could get another one of similar quality locally. That was a problem for later, however, because at the moment she needed to continue trying on the clothes she had selected so far. However, as she did so, she couldn’t help but approach the next few items with a happy smile and a sensation of relief. She was going to be okay. When the day would finally be over, when she would bid it a final goodbye as she went to sleep, she would be able to wake up with the knowledge that she could go to work and anywhere else and be safe, because she would be able to wear her diapers, and they would keep her safe, if not from physical harm, then at least from the worry that she wouldn’t be able to control herself.
Re: The Caretaker’s House -Chapters 1-20 - Updated 7/20/13
Chapter Twenty-One
Francesca returned from her shopping expedition with two bags full of clothes (and a pair of shoes), and a very wet diaper. Before she changed it, she rooted around until she found her onesie, and immediately shed her top in order to put it on. Snapping the crotch closed around the sodden mass of her diaper proved somewhat difficult at first, but after only a brief struggle, it was done. Then, she tried on one of the skirts she had bought and practiced walking around her apartment in it. As she had hoped, the onesie worked to muffle the crinkling of the Bambino. Thoroughly satisfied, Francesca retreated to her bedroom again, this time to put away all of her purchases properly. When finished, she likewise undressed completely and set about changing into a dry diaper, to which she added a t-shirt before heading to the kitchen in search of something to eat.
During her brief meal, Francesca considered the significance of going into diapers full time. How long would she need them? Would it cause more problems than it would solve? Would she be discovered? All these and more questions ran through her mind, but her response to each was an overwhelming fear of pissing herself in the middle of the office in broad daylight with half the bureau looking right at her, and the other half likely to find out about it within the next two minutes. No, she would rather wear a diaper, risk discovery and possible ridicule, and possibly earn herself a trip to a psychiatric evaluation session, than wet her pants like a child in the middle of the day. Francesca didn’t realize the irony of that thought, at all.
That night as she slept, Francesca’s dreams were filled with scenarios and images in which her diapers became a liability rather than the asset they were supposed to be. In some of her dreams, she was discovered, shamed, and made an outcast. In others, she leaked. The more intense dreams involved her co-workers gathering around her to treat her like the infant they believed her to be, which involved Agent Thompson changing her and Bart Clayton feeding her a bottle. While the rest of the Bureau staff seemed to accept this as the new normal, Francesca found herself revolted at what she was experiencing; the emotions were strong enough to wake her up in the middle of the night. Finding herself entangled in her bedding, Francesca extricated herself from the web of sheets and blankets, got out of bed to fix them, but before she could bed down again, she looked down at her diaper in the dark and ran a hand over the front. She was still dry, of course, but she felt the urge to empty her bladder. It was becoming a reflex to let go, she realized. Her use of diapers had impacted her that severely. Just to prove that she was still a big girl, she resisted the urge, and restrained herself from wetting her diaper.
To further her resistance, Francesca went to the kitchen for a drink of water, and then walked to a window to look out at the night sky. The view wasn’t very inspiring—mostly trees and light pollution from the near, but unseen, urban landscape. Really, she was only stalling herself for a few minutes to drink water and reassure herself that yes, she was still a functional adult. The precipice that looked down upon the hill of regression had its charms, though. She could free herself of adult responsibilities and let herself return to a time when she was young and innocent, when the world was only bright and beautiful rather than tainted and troubled. She could live a life without care, and spend her days lost in the blissful contemplation of existence as she needed it to be, rather than what it actually was.
Maybe then, she thought with a sardonic smile, she could stop dreaming pipe dreams and let herself live in the present reality. It sounded so boring, however, the life of a regressed adult. What was fun for them? Playing Go-Fish and coloring with crayons while chewing on crackers and drinking juice? It was one thing to live like that on a temporary vacation from reality in a place set up for the purpose, but to live like that permanently? Her life, which had meaning and significance, and could increase in both, would effectively be over. She would cease to be a factor in the future of the FBI, and her career, full of the potential for unlimited promise and advancement, would be over scarcely before it had truly begun. Was it truly worth the sacrifice? Was the pursuit of a fantasy level of happiness really worth everything she had worked for, had fought for in some cases, and everything she had thus far achieved?
Still introspective, Francesca wet herself.
The urine pooled between her legs as a flash of heat before the padding of her diaper began to distribute it to the front and back of the garment. It was a blissful level of relaxation, she thought as she dissected the experience in a way she hadn’t before. But, how relaxing was it really? She could have easily gone to her apartment’s bathroom and used the toilet like a normal adult, but instead she was wearing a waste trap that served the same purpose; the difference with her diaper was that the waste was not conveniently flushed away, but carried with her until she exchanged it for a clean one that would be used the same way. That basic function, then, served no true purpose in her life; it did not add to the value of her existence, nor did it make her life more convenient. Her wet diaper would eventually become uncomfortable, the padding would clump at some point and become harder to sit on, and in spite of the wonderful development that had gone into the diaper she now wore, the smell of the urine would eventually begin to leak out of it to announce its presence to the immediate area.
But that wasn’t all of it, of course. The basic function was simply a means to an end. The diaper itself was just that: a diaper. But, that’s not all it was to an adult baby, or a diaper lover, was it? No, the value ascribed to wearing an adult diaper—especially one with childish prints on it—operated on an emotional level. It tied the user back to a tie when his or her life was simple, uncomplicated, and free, or so they thought. Simple and uncomplicated it might be, but was it truly freedom? There were more than two sides to that coin, it seemed, and Francesca was unwilling to consider the arguments at oh-dark-thirty. In time, however, she would have to. For now, she needed to get what sleep she could, because the rest of her week was going to be busy.
The next time Francesca awoke, it was to stop the irritating bleating of her alarm. With a sigh and a groan, she levered herself out of bed, added to the wetness in her diaper with whatever had accumulated between when she had woken up in the middle of the night the morning, and shuffled into the kitchen for breakfast, grumbling to herself that philosophical mumbo jumbo in the black of night was not worth the mental angst and lost minutes of precious sleep. She had to admit to herself, however, that part of her morning irritation stemmed from the fact that she was planning to wear diapers the entire day; to work, to wherever work took her, and then back to her apartment. It was going to be her first full working day diapered, and Francesca wasn’t sure how to handle that. Did she really need to wear diapers to work? Wouldn’t it be better to wear a sanitary pad, or something far less obnoxious than a full-on diaper? Of course it would, she thought, but what if she just cut loose? There was no way that anything less than a diaper could take that sort of hit and not make a hideous—and more importantly, obvious—mess all over the place. She had to wear a diaper to the Bureau. There was no other way to be sure that she wouldn’t leak all over herself, her chair, the floor, and anyone else who happened to be passing by at the wrong moment. It was an assertion born of such a deeply rooted terror, that Francesca had to violently quell any other voice that attempted to suggest any other reasoning. At this point, Francesca only had to decide which brand of diaper she was going to wear. Would it be a Bianco, in case she was discovered? Or, would she opt for her preferred Teddy diapers? The ABU diapers were out of the question, because not only was their absorbency inferior to the Bambino, they were also louder. Francesca wanted discretion, and she wanted maximum protection.
When she had finished breakfast, it was time to start getting ready for the day. She started by selecting her outfit and laying out on her bed, followed by heading to the bathroom to shower. Her nervousness increased as she washed, and once again she debated within herself the wisdom of her course of action, her previously strong logic beginning to weaken in the face of renewed fear and indecision.
When Francesca emerged from the shower wrapped in a towel and began to comb out her hair, she found no solace or strength in the mirror; rather, all she saw was the picture of distress. She was at a pivotal juncture, or so it seemed, and she could not make up her mind with the finality that she needed. She sighed, and left the bathroom to return to the bedroom. There was no diaper waiting for her on the bed with the rest of her clothes; she would have to go to the closet to get one. The few steps to the closet seemed like walking through a tunnel with a train coming towards her, but instead of being hit by a million pounds of moving mass, the door opened to reveal her diapers. She reached in and grabbed a Bianco, figuring that if she was going to go through with it, she might as well at least spare herself the ignominy of wearing a printed diaper.
Returning to the bedroom, Francesca shed her towel and began to unfold the diaper. It crinkled and crackled much more loudly than usual, or at least that’s how it seemed to her. Finally, the diaper was spread open on the floor invitingly. She stared at it dumbly for a few moments. This was it, she thought. Once she put that on, there wasn’t any going back. Why did it seem like she was looking at a prison sentence? It was just a diaper. But, it was a diaper that she believed she needed. She wasn’t dooming herself to a lifetime of diapers, she was just wearing them to make sure she didn’t have any accidents. Also, she was wearing them to re-establish her self-control.
That was the clinching argument. It was temporary, not permanent. She would only need to wear diapers full time for a little while, and then she would be okay. Normal. Francesca relaxed, and then, as if on autopilot, she sat down on the middle of the diaper, lay back, and pulled the front of it up to lie against her stomach as she began to tape it shut. There, it was done. Francesca was going to go to work in a diaper, and that was all there was to it. Even if she peed herself uncontrollably, she would still be okay, because her diaper would protect her clothes and her workspace. Everything was going to be fine.
Francesca put on a bra after she stood up from the floor, and then returned to the bathroom to finish drying her hair. Then she put on her makeup, finished dressing, and it was out the door and on to the office. She decided against bringing spare diapers; she lived close enough that she could come back to the apartment to change at lunch. She was relieved to hear that her diaper wasn’t making a lot of noise—she wasn’t wearing her onesie, because she needed to wash it—and her skirt was loose enough below the waist that she was confident that it wouldn’t betray her. The office itself seemed to take little notice of her once she swiped her badge for entry into the building. She offered greetings to people and was greeted in turn, but once she got to her desk, she resolved not to leave it until or unless she absolutely had to. Francesca planned to plow through a lot of paperwork, and since there was plenty of it to get done, she wasted little time.
Quickly, Francesca got into the zone and practically ignored her diaper. Once, Bart Clayton came by to chat for a couple of moments, but he was between errands and didn’t linger. Francesca thought of Bart as a nice guy, and idly wondered if Annie would find him attractive. Francesca was making sure she didn’t encourage him; she was only temporary at this branch, and she didn’t want to go through the angst involving a relationship spread across hundreds of miles. She would have to think of a reliable pretext to introduce him to her, though. That would be an interesting puzzle, she thought to herself with a smile as she returned to the world of paperwork. Some more work had come her way from her home office, and she balanced that with the work she had to do for Agent Thompson’s people. Her boss, Agent North, had emailed her to touch base and see how she was doing; it was a pleasant little piece of recognition. Francesca assumed that her good work was reflecting credit on him, which could in turn mean good things for North down the road. Francesca had no trouble telling him that things were going good, that Agent Thompson seemed pleased, and that they were closer and closer to wrapping up her part of the case. Sadly, she couldn’t give a more definite time table for their success.
The clock ticked away, and Francesca made a vast inroad into her paperwork. Feeling thirsty, she stood from her desk to go to the break room for a drink, but as she stood up, something felt out of place… wetness? Her diaper, she remembered with a rude shock. She froze on the spot, her mind frantically whirling. When had she wet her diaper? She couldn’t even remember needing to!
“Francesca?”
Startled, she looked up; Bart Clayton was standing there. “You scared me,” she scolded him mildly.
“Sorry. But, you didn’t look like yourself. Are you okay?” he asked.
Her racing mind provided a quick response. “Oh,” she said, smiling a little. “Just dizzy for a moment. I’ve been sitting all morning and I think I might have stood up too fast.”
Bart’s face cleared with understanding. “Gotcha. That sucks. Hey, at least you didn’t fall over, right?” Francesca answered him with a quiet laugh and he continued onward. Francesca made her way very nonchalantly to the break room, drank a cup of water from the water cooler, and wondered just how wet she was. Now that she was paying attention to it, her diaper didn’t feel that heavy, so she must have only wet it once. If that was the case, she would be okay until lunch for sure. However, she needed to be absolutely sure, so she retreated to the women’s room, again as nonchalantly as possible. Blessedly, the restroom was empty, so she quickly stepped into a stall to check herself. Not that wet, just as she had thought; she felt herself calming down immediately. Francesca would still go home to change at lunch, but she was relieved to see that she wasn’t flooding her diaper with reckless abandon. After washing her hands—she had just been touching her wet diaper, and waterproof plastic shell or not, that was still icky—she returned to her desk and continued working.
Even though she still continued to work steadily through her paperwork, Francesca felt tense, and her nervousness from earlier had returned. She had wet her diaper without even knowing. Was that a sign of things to come, or had she just mentally associated the fact that she could do that with a diaper on? That was a hard question to answer, but one she knew she would have to try answering soon. She could not become dependent on diapers. That just was not going to fit her life or her lifestyle. Wearing them was okay, though. Needing them? That was something else.
Lunch finally arrived, and Francesca left the building with more than a little relief. She wanted a diaper change badly, even though she still wasn’t very wet. She was, however, wet enough for her to justify the change, especially since she didn’t want to run the risk of leaking during the rest of the day. As experienced as she was, Francesca was still fairly new to the absorbency of Bambino diapers, and didn’t fully understand how much they could hold. Also, when she pulled into the apartment complex, she felt a pressure in her bottom that let her know she would need to change her diaper in the next few minutes regardless. As she walked up the stairs to the apartment itself, she was debating whether or not to just go in her diaper. After all, that’s what it was for… but did she really want to go through that much clean-up? Francesca headed for the diaper closet first to get out a fresh one, but she stood there for a few moments, again frozen in indecision. Her bowel muscles knocked on the window of her central nervous system, as if to ask, “now can I?” However, Francesca wavered, lost in thought, but her bowels seemed to decide to take matters into their own hands.
She gasped when she felt herself start to mess her diaper, and quickly tried to arrest the flow of solid waste. She rushed to the bathroom, her bowel muscles protesting all the while, which caused her gait to become irregular as she tried to do three things at once. Francesca fumbled with her skirt, the clean diaper in her hands got in her way, and that distraction was her undoing. She felt the warm mass exit her body and drop into the seat of her diaper. With a sigh, Francesca leaned against the wall and let nature finish what it had started. What was this, her third dirty diaper? Not only that, but it was her second dirty diaper in just a handful of days. Dejected, Francesca blinked away tears and went into damage control mode. She took off her skirt and left it on her bed, as well as her shoes, and went to the bathroom to change. Her third dirty diaper had the distinction of being the first time that she went directly from dirty diaper to clean diaper. The previous two instances she had gone into the shower; this time, she settled her much-wiped bottom onto a clean Bambino Bianco. Once she was re-diapered, she dealt with her wet and messy diaper and made a mental note to empty her garbage cans when she got back from work.
Lunch itself was subdued, as Francesca felt morose after her accident. She wasn’t even sure if she could think of it as an accident, because the sequence of events leading up to it seemed to be more deliberate than accidental. She cheered herself up as much as she could as she drove back to the Bureau, because she couldn’t let herself telegraph her private misery to the office at large. Francesca needed questions as much as she needed wet diapers; which is to say, she didn’t need any questions at all.
The remainder of the day was smooth, at least up until a point. About half an hour before the end of the working day, Bart Clayton stopped by her desk. “Hey, Francesca, how’s it going?” he asked.
“Hi, Bart, it’s going well. How’re things for you?”
He shrugged affably. “Can’t complain,” he answered. “Hey, a bunch of us are getting together tonight for drinks. I was wondering if you’d like to join us.”
Francesca blanked for a moment. “Oh, um…” she wanted to say no, to give some excuse, to let him down politely, but firmly. Before she could get the words to her mouth, however, a more logical part of her mind shouted it down. This was a chance to be normal. Maybe she could undo the damage of her diaper-wearing habits by associating with people who don’t wear diapers. It was worth a shot. “You know, that sounds like fun. Thanks for inviting me; I’d love to join you guys.”
Bart’s smile was as broad as it was genuine. “Great! Um, we’re meeting up at this place called Havana’s at seven. Great little bar and grill just outside downtown.”
“Oh, I think I know where that is!” Francesca piped, unable to hide her genuine excitement. “I’ll be there,” she promised.
“Sounds great, Francesca. I’ll see you there,” he said, and politely took his leave. Francesca wondered how much of a complication this would be, but decided that she would cross that bridge when she came to it.
Re: The Caretaker’s House -Chapters 1-21 - Updated 8/23/13
Amazing. This story is on a whole 'nother level. Hope to see more soon!
Re: The Caretaker’s House -Chapters 1-21 - Updated 8/23/13
Chapter Twenty-Two
By the time Francesca returned to her apartment, she was torn between going out with her colleagues and staying in on some lame pretext that she could use in the morning. The reason for her indecision was her diaper. Once again, she had wet herself without really being aware of the fact, or so it had felt. One moment she was debating pausing her work to use the restroom—or at least wet her diaper in a controlled fashion—and while she thought about it, her bladder seemed to just let go. That all but told Francesca what she feared most: that if she didn’t wear a diaper to the bar, she would wet herself. Her hopes of being a normal young woman at Havana’s, the bar, were dashed. Maybe her hopes of being a normal young woman ever again were dashed, and she just hadn’t yet accepted the fact. The more she thought about it, the more she felt that she had unwittingly become dependent on diapers, especially after wearing them for over the weekend without pause, and a great deal of the time when she wasn’t working. Was it even possible to do that to yourself, she wondered.
Francesca decided that she would have to do some research, but in the interim, she took off her skirt and her blouse, decided against changing into a dry diaper, and instead set about fixing herself a snack. If she was going out to a bar, she knew that she would be plied with drinks, either by well-meaning colleagues, other men looking to pick her up, or both. She wanted to have something in her stomach to absorb any alcohol she consumed.
While Francesca snacked, she tried to come to terms with the grim facts of the reality she occupied. The reality was, that because of her carelessness, or perhaps because of her assimilation into the adult baby/diaper lover lifestyle, she had rendered herself dependent upon diapers for her personal need. She heaved a sigh and leaned back in her chair while she thought about it, and couldn’t avoid the fact that her immediate future looked bleak. How long would she have to stay in diapers? No, that wasn’t the right question to ask, she scolded herself. The right question was, how quickly could she get out of them? Would it be days? Weeks, perhaps? She hoped it wouldn’t be weeks. She’d have to order more diapers, then, if that was the case. That was something Francesca truly did not want to have to do; not only did she feel that it would be a waste of money, but she also felt that it would be a form of surrender to a lifestyle that she wasn’t prepared to accept for herself for the rest of her life, or even after her involvement in the Caretaker’s House was finished, as it was likely to be in the near future. But, the question remained. Did she need more diapers? She didn’t need more ABUs, and she rationalized that if she ran through those as fast as possible by wearing them in the evening and overnight, she could clear up closet space and then feel as though she had gotten her money’s worth out of the play diapers, even though she didn’t care for them all that much. They lacked the comfortable bulk of the Bambino diapers, and regardless of how cute they were, they just didn’t compare. However, she did have to give ABU one nod, if nothing else; their single tape to each side was much easier to work with than the two-tape build of the Bambino diaper. It just seemed… more appropriate, somehow, for a diaper, regardless of its intended user, to be fastened with one tape. It brought home the point that the wearer was dependent upon something, or someone, for their personal care, and Francesca felt that if she was to be consigned to diapers for the foreseeable future, that she should endure treatment like a toddler.
That thought brought her up short. Had she really just considered that? She had. That was a scary thought. “Do I really want to punish myself for becoming dependent on diapers by… being babysat?” She asked the empty air, and grimaced almost immediately after. “Oh my Lord, that is terrible!”
But she was tempted.
Why? Why was she tempted? Francesca had no immediate rationale, but the thoughts were so consuming that her stomach was closed to any more food; she put away her snacks and crinkled to her bedroom; on the way, she stopped at the closet where she kept her diapers. She opened the door and considered the remaining assortment housed within and sighed. If Francesca could get her control back by the weekend, she would probably have enough diapers to get by with some Bambinos leftover. But if it took longer, Francesca knew she would be looking at a shortage, especially if she used at least two a day. She took a few moments to run the numbers. If she started with one in the morning after her shower, she would then change again at lunch, and then again after work, followed by a third diaper change before bed, unless she messed herself or flooded her diaper before then. That meant that Francesca would go through three diapers a day at least, perhaps as many as five. That might not have been the most efficient rate, especially when one considered how absorbent Bambino products were, but Francesca remembered a little thing called diaper rash, and she had no desire to risk that by staying in a wet or dirty diaper for too long. The concept of suffering from diaper rash (not to mention the humiliation of experiencing it in the first place) was not something she wanted to experiment with.
She poked her wet diaper. It squished a little, but she decided against changing herself right on the spot. She wanted to wait until the last possible moment before she needed to leave in order to be as empty as possible.
Francesca’s phone beeped with a received text message; she went to read it and saw that it was Annie asking if Francesca was free to meet up that night. Francesca was sorely tempted to ditch her colleagues and go hang out with Annie—who at least would most likely be wearing a diaper as well, even if she might not be even partially dependent on them—but she decided against it, and responded with a negative to Annie, instead suggesting that they get together the following evening if at all possible. Annie agreed, and they were set.
That left Francesca wondering what to do with her time up until she needed to leave. Well… she did need an outfit. She decided to simply change her top rather than something completely different, even though she knew that subconsciously she might be turning away some of her male colleagues. Upon reflection, that actually wasn’t a bad idea, especially since she was only on loan to this branch of the Bureau, not joining it permanently. She decided to dress ‘down’ in order to dissuade unwanted attention, but not so ‘down’ as to be unapproachable. Some of these inter-branch trades were routine, after all, and they all carried the same badge as federal agents. Good camaraderie was good for business, especially when some of that business could turn deadly. It was easy for Francesca to forget the sometimes lethal aspects to her profession, since she so rarely had to deal with the grisly aspects of it.
After dawdling over her clothes for a little while, Francesca finally settled on an outfit she thought would accomplish her goals and then went about trying to force herself to wet her diaper. She even went so far as to sit on the toilet for several minutes—with her diaper still on—until she felt a few drops escape. She grumbled about it for a moment, but decided that would have to do, and fetched a dry diaper from her closet and went to her bedroom to change. Just as she was about to pop the tapes, she felt a little pressure in her bladder, and with a small sigh of relief, she released more into her diaper. Finally satisfied, she changed into a dry diaper and dressed. While she dressed, she revisited her earlier thoughts of being babysat, and debated upgrading her ‘play’ to Level Three the next time she was at the Caretaker’s House. She’d already been changed by him once, another few times couldn’t hurt… could it?
Francesca shook those thoughts away. She needed to focus on getting out of diapers, not contriving reasons to stay in them. With her focus re-established, Francesca grabbed her purse and headed out the door to make the relatively short drive to Havana’s.
When Francesca arrived, she looked around to see if anyone else from the office was already there; she had deliberately planned her departure to arrive at least five minutes late, so she wouldn’t be left standing by herself in the middle of a bar. Fortunately, she wasn’t left standing by herself for long. A waving hand caught her eye and she recognized Bart, waved back, and headed his way. “Hey, glad you could make it,” Bart greeted her in a friendly way.
“Yeah, thanks for the invite,” Francesca replied. Some other agents were there, and Francesca recognized a couple; she shook hands all around regardless, and exchanged introductions with those she didn’t know. Almost immediately Francesca was swept up in a wave of delightful and banal small talk; the men dropped into sports almost immediately, but what surprised Francesca was that a couple of the women joined them, and soon the entire conversation revolved around sports; all of the major sports were on the table, and that made it even more surprising. Francesca found herself learning about trivial minutiae about different teams and their offensive or defensive highlights, and when she could, she contributed a meaningful tidbit or agreement, just to feel part of the conversation. drinks began to flow freely, and with the ice thoroughly broken and the most important sports topics exhausted, the general conversation began to ramble in different directions; soon, Francesca found herself one-on-one with an analyst for Narcotics. “So, how do you like working here?” the analyst, whose name was Eve, asked.
“I like it a lot,” Francesca answered honestly. “I mean, it’s not my home, but I’ve really enjoyed my time here.”
“That’s cool. A colleague who was in my division transferred to your branch about a year ago,” Eve went on. “I was out there myself about six months ago and we did lunch; he said the same thing about there that you said about here.”
“Misses this place, does he?” Francesca commiserated. Even though inter-branch transfers happened with routine frequency as promotions and opportunities opened pathways, that didn’t mean that those who moved didn’t miss their roots.
Eve nodded. “Yeah, we were pretty good friends. Almost made the mistake of getting involved, but thankfully we kept our heads out of the clouds.”
“Good thing,” Francesca agreed, sipping her beer. “I’ve heard some nasty stories about folks who, um, didn’t, and it made for some awkward times, or so I’ve been told.”
“Yeah, those stories get around, and they’re probably true. I think the brass likes them to get around so it discourages those kinds of things from happening,” Eve said. Francesca couldn’t help but note a slight wistfulness to Eve’s tone as she spoke; she must have been good friends with whoever it was she was talking about. Privately, she hoped they found a way to make it work. “But enough about that; spill,” Eve demanded, leaning close to Francesca. “What’s the skinny on your undercover operation? A lot of us have been speculating, and I’m just dying to know what it’s like.”
“Huh? What what’s like?” Francesca asked dumbly, caught by surprise. “Oh, you mean being undercover?”
Eve nodded. “Well, duh! None of us are working those kinds of cases, and we’re all freaking jealous!”
Francesca laughed nervously, relieved that Eve wasn’t trying to get her to reveal anything sensitive or compartmentalized. “Well, it’s actually not terrible; I mean, keeping my cover straight can be a bit of a nuisance sometimes, but the good thing is, that my C.I. doesn’t really care all that much about what I do; I don’t have to worry about them trying to come to my office or something like that. Really, it’s… like we’re just friends. It just so happens that this person is a link to the real target of the investigation.”
Eve seemed deflated. “That’s it? Really? Wow… that sucks. I mean, don’t get me wrong, I’m glad it’s going well,” she added, hastily back-peddling. “It’s just… I expected it to be more than that.”
Francesca laughed again. “I know, right? I was expecting it to be tooth and nail, gritty cop work… but it’s just maintaining connections until they close it out. I’m actually really relieved that’s all it is; if it was anything more than that, I’m not sure I could take it.”
“Really?” Eve seemed surprised by that admission. “What’s your background?”
“General Criminal Justice,” Francesca answered. “Before this came up, I was primarily working as an analyst for cases being run at my field office, and attached to support teams for a couple of different investigations. Nothing super exciting, but nothing really boring, either.”
Eve nodded acceptance of that answer; she knew as well as the next agent that unless you were involved in the investigation you were asking about, you only gave noncommittal answers and vague details to protect the integrity of the investigation as a whole. “Still, it must have been pretty awesome to be offered the case; were you the first one they came to?”
Francesca shook her head. “Number three, actually.”
“No way!”
“I know,” Francesca agreed. “Who would pass up the opportunity, right? I guess one of the other girls was pregnant or about to get married; I mean, they were legitimate reasons to pass up the assignment, and I hope for their sakes that they don’t get left in the dust because of it, but… I wasn’t about to.”
Eve nodded approvingly. “Smart choice. These kinds of hand-outs don’t come your way every day, and who knows how many of us will go our entire careers without getting this kind of shot. It really sucks that you took it, but I’m rooting for you, Bowden.”
“Thanks, Eve.” They touched bottles and then the tide of conversation returned to draw them back into a group discussion that Bart was serving as a sort of ringmaster in; against all reason, the discussion was all about The Hunger Games and whether or not it was actually plausible fiction. The two sides of the debate were fiercely entrenched, as Mike, another analyst, and Patty, a White Collar agent, held the extreme views to either side. Patty was arguing that yes, The Hunger Games were plausible fiction, provided certain socioeconomic criteria eventually materialized, and democratic authority collapsed. Mike argued that no, they were not plausible because in order for such a socioeconomic collapse to happen, it would require global upheaval on the order of all-out nuclear war; humanity wouldn’t be able to organize into that sort of society for decades, possibly centuries, because the level of destruction would be too severe to allow for even that level of cohesive government and society, especially not with the level of technology possessed in The Hunger Games. “We’d be lucky to have horses and carts, man,” Mike was saying. Francesca, who had not read The Hunger Games (but had seen the movie, and thought it was okay), simply watched the theatrics. It was a fun debate, and it gave way to other conversations revolving around the world of entertainment that served to further the atmosphere of good camaraderie, and completely distance all of them from their work day. Francesca felt at ease among them, and found herself thankful to Bart for inviting her to join them for their outing.
As the night began to wind down, the conversation began to trend to the future, and what it might hold. Eve asked Bart, “do you have any plans for holiday vacationing?”
Bart shrugged. “Not sure, yet. I was thinking somewhere tropical, where bikinis and beer are the law, rather than the perk,” he joked, getting knowing smiles from the other male agents, and good-humored eye-rolls from the women. “Maybe Florida, maybe the Bahamas, maybe California. I haven’t really decided which way I want to jump, yet, but I know I want to get away. How about you, Eve?”
“Probably gonna go to Cleveland for Thanksgiving at my grandparents; I know, it’s lame, but my Dad and my Grandpa are such rabid Browns fans, that if there’s even a hint of them doing well this year and I’m not there to watch that Sunday’s game, I will be disowned.” That comment drew laughter all around. “How about you, Francesca?”
“Home for Thanksgiving for sure; my Mom makes amazing pies,” she answered. “I’ve toyed with the idea of going to Europe for a while; maybe I’ll treat myself to Ireland or England for a few days when all is said and done.”
“England! Now there’s a good idea,” Mike chimed in suddenly. “I was over there once with an ex-girlfriend a few years ago—well, she wasn’t my ex then, but anyway—and there’s this really neat little pub not too far from Buckingham Palace that serves like… the most amazing shepherd’s pie I’ve ever had. I mean, it is so delicious. The beer is top-notch, too, so you definitely can’t go wrong. I think it’s called the Red Coat or the Red Cart… something red, that’s all I can say for certain. Anyway, if you go there, check it out. You won’t regret it.”
Francesca smiled. “Thanks for the tip, Mike.”
He tipped her a salute. “Any time.”
Not long after, the informal gathering began to break up. Once Francesca saw the signs of the night coming to an end, she made it a point not to linger, and as soon as she felt she could, she politely said goodnight and excused herself.
When she was safely away from Havana’s and in her car, she almost broke down on the spot. She hadn’t had that much to drink, and she definitely wasn’t inebriated in the slightest, but the squelch of a wet diaper that she felt more than heard told her that her battle for bladder control wasn’t yet over, and possibly was only just beginning. She didn’t know when she had wet herself, but if the temperature of her diaper was any indication, it had probably happened about halfway through. Was that during the most-funny part of Mike and Patty’s Hunger Games debate? It might have been; it made sense, anyway. What Francesca didn’t trust herself to do on the spot was check to see just how wet she actually was. When she got back to the apartment, however, and the door was safely closed and locked, she dropped her skirt almost immediately to check. While it felt worse than it looked, and probably amounted to the regular amount of liquid evacuated by the average person in one go, the simple fact that she hadn’t permitted it to happen was the most troubling part. “Well, at least I know these diapers won’t betray me,” she muttered grimly, and headed to her bedroom to start getting ready for bed. She held off on a diaper change until she had finished her evening routine, and even then she waited a little longer so she could be sure she was as empty as possible before she bedded down; if possible, she wanted to eliminate the possibility of an overnight accident, and try to start her morning with a dry diaper. Whether or not she went into the shower after a dry diaper was a different story, but at least if she wet herself in a controlled fashion, she could claim that as her victory, and use that as a stepping stone to normalcy.
The problem was getting to that stepping stone, she thought to herself as she finally set about changing into a dry diaper. She needed something, even the smallest glimmer of hope. The idea of going home in diapers, even for faraway Thanksgiving dinner, was almost a nightmare unto itself.
Re: The Caretaker’s House -Chapters 1-22 - Updated 9/15/13
I’m always happy to see another chapter of this story! Thank you!
Re: The Caretaker’s House -Chapters 1-22 - Updated 9/15/13
love the story. please continue the good work. :-*8) ;D
Re: The Caretaker’s House -Chapters 1-22 - Updated 9/15/13
Chapter Twenty-Three
The following day, Francesca managed to get through her morning routine and her workday without fretting herself to pieces over her need for diapers. She had woken up dry (which had been a relief), but had still ended up wet by lunch, though she consoled herself with the knowledge that she had at least felt it coming before it was all the way too late—while she had been unable to stop the flow, she had at least managed to clamp down on it and hold herself back for a few moments, just to reassure herself that she could indeed manage at least some level of control. It was that instance during the morning that made Francesca wonder if that was what toilet-training was like for toddlers and pre-school children. Had it really been a series of hit-and-miss instances? Francesca almost wished she could remember what it had been like, if only to help herself out of her present circumstance. However, when she considered the thought for a little longer, she realized she was probably better off not remembering; no doubt there had been an obnoxious amount of baby talk from her parents when she had either succeeded or failed.
The rest of her working day was spent in meetings, briefings, and planning sessions for the next phase of the case. The team was set to enter the Caretaker’s House no earlier than Thursday of that week, and that left a full working day of time to continue alternative and parallel methods of investigation. So far, a background check on Eric the Caretaker had yielded nothing out of the ordinary; a financials check indicated stable cash flow, both in and out, and other methods had turned up nothing interesting, either. So far, Eric the Caretaker was a nearly picturesque ‘regular guy’, aside from his secret kink, and those who enjoyed it with him. Even that was in keeping with the ‘regular guy’ lifestyle. Everyone had secrets, after all. The only difference was that some secrets were dangerous, while others, if not most, were generally harmless. Francesca looked over the copies of information that she had been given and frowned in thought while she scrutinized it. Nothing stood out about this guy; nothing at all. Why was that such a problem for the FBI? Why was it such a problem at all? Considering how thoroughly they had gone through this guy’s life, it was a miracle he didn’t have some sort of itching sensation from being watched.
“Something standing out to you, Bowden?” Agent Bates suddenly asked.
Francesca jerked out of her study and looked blankly at Bates for a moment. “Uh—no, sorry. Um… I was just thinking about how… normal this guy is. I mean, sure, he’s got this kink, but who doesn’t have some sort of… y’know, secret?” Francesca managed to ignore the reactions of everyone else in the room. “Yeah, he’s wrapped up in this whole thing in a bad way, but everything we’ve seen so far suggests that he’s clean. Doesn’t mean we won’t see something different on his computer, of course, but even some of the other guys wrapped up in this who are pretty much completely guilty have something a little… ‘off’ about them.”
Thompson spoke up. “That’s a valid observation, Bowden, but I’m glad you finished it the way you did; we just can’t be sure until we follow this thing all the way through. Anything else jumping out at you about the information we’ve gathered so far?”
Francesca shook her head. “No, sir.”
Bates took a turn, next. “How about in personal interaction with him? Has he behaved in any way that would give you that… ‘off’ feeling?”
Francesca thought back, but again had to shake her head. “No, sir, nothing jumped out at me as being ‘off.’ He’s actually pretty boring. I don’t know if that’s a carefully crafted front to hide his ‘evil’ side, or if that’s just how he is, or if he’s just displaying a bland exterior to conceal a past that was a little more reckless than he would care to admit.” Her last comment caused confused looks to blossom around the table. Francesca blushed and then forced herself to explain. “I… dated a couple of guys who had been really heavy into the party scene and made some pretty big mistakes; the stories they told about their past did not at all match up with who they were when I was with them, even when corroborated by their friends. It was almost like they had undergone some sort of strange self-inflicted lobotomy.”
Amusement flickered around the room, but Thompson looked thoughtful. “That’s interesting. Let’s see if we can dig up any old dirt on this guy, see if he was up to no good of some sort before he turned his stripes. Look at social media, anything and everything you can into. We know he doesn’t have a criminal record, but that doesn’t mean there isn’t some sort of colorful history he’s left behind that we can get at. Maybe it’ll help us profile him a little better.” There was agreement all around the table, and the meeting broke up shortly after. Francesca was able to wrap up and head back to the apartment. Annie texted her almost as soon as she walked through her door, inviting her to come over in roughly an hour. Francesca agreed, and then asked if anyone else would be joining, and whether or not she should bring any diapers, to which Annie replied that Sadie had declined and Annie hadn’t been able to reach any of the other girls in time, and that of course she shouldn’t bring diapers, because Annie had a ton. Annie followed up with a message saying that Francesca should come over expecting to be changed right away. Francesca sent back an LOL, and that was the end of it. She went to her bedroom to change her clothes, but decided against a diaper change. If Annie expected her to change when she got there, Francesca didn’t need to burn through any of her dwindling supply. The thought reminded Francesca that she needed to think about a new order of diapers soon, but she decided to put that off for later. Instead, she focused on putting together a small but hasty meal for herself while she relaxed in her diaper and a t-shirt. As she crinkled around her apartment, Francesca decided that she needed to get more diaper shirts and/or onesies to act as lounge wear. Francesca’s diaper wasn’t soaked, but even for as wet as it was, it still sagged enough that she wished she had something under it to hold the bulky padding in place.
When enough time had passed, Francesca put on a pair of lounge pants and headed out of her apartment. She felt a momentary pang of embarrassment at how loud her diaper was, or so it seemed to her, but she pushed it aside and soldiered on. After all, right now she needed them; being ashamed of them wasn’t going to make her diapers go away.
The trip to Annie’s apartment was quick, and Francesca was buzzed in almost the moment she pressed the button. A couple of flights of stairs later, and she was at Annie’s door; Annie greeted her immediately and with great good cheer; it had only been a few days since they had last seen each other, but Annie’s reaction made it seem as though the time had actually been much, much longer. “It’s so good to see you!” she gushed as they embraced.
“It’s good to see you too, but it hasn’t been more than a few days,” Francesca pointed out.
“I know,” Annie said, somewhat sheepishly. “But I like hanging out with you, and you might be the only other ‘normal’ person in our group that I know so far. Some of the new girls from Saturday might be cool, but I haven’t really gotten a chance to feel them out, yet.”
“Gotcha,” Francesca said. “So, how’s your week been so far?” she asked as they moved into the kitchen for drinks.
“Oh man, Monday was a bitch and a half! Thankfully, that was only Monday, and Mondays usually suck.” Francesca smiled. “Huge stacks of projects, communiques to be written and approved and sent out, mass-mailings… ugh! It was the pits. But, we slogged through it, and now that’s done with, and the rest of the week is looking rosy. How about for you?”
“Well, my Monday wasn’t great, either, but like you said; it was Monday. It’s been a reasonable week so far, but unlike your week, mine might get more troublesome as we get closer and closer to the weekend; big project on the burner. Some dweebs in another office didn’t get some data properly filed on one of the reviews we’re doing at this office, so we have to sort through a whole pile of files and numbers, statistics, data, possibly even social media feeds to get it sorted out before we can actually get down to the thing we’re actually supposed to be working on,” Francesca explained, bending the truth as far as she could as often as she could without actually lying, but lying all the same.
“Ouch,” Annie winced. “Don’t you hate it when someone else screws the whole thing up?”
“Totally, but at least it isn’t my fault!” Both women shared a laugh, and then Annie led the way to her living room.
“So, I got my new order of Bellissimos in yesterday,” she announced. “I love those diapers so much, it’s actually really funny.”
“I was surprised at how… thick they were,” Francesca said, thinking back to the weekend.
“Yeah, they’re huge. That’s why I love them so much. I was hoping you could have come over last night so we could break into 'em, but when you couldn’t, I decided I didn’t want to wait.” Annie patted her crotch for emphasis, which crinkled in response.
“I’ve been in the habit of wearing after work and overnight myself,” Francesca spontaneously admitted. “I’ve really been enjoying it, but I’m almost out of Bambino diapers, and I’ve been debating…” Francesca had to pause in order to prevent herself from saying ‘whether’ and covered her pause with a shrug, “what to order. I was going to get some more Teddys and Biancos, but are the Bellissimos really that good?”
“Oh Lord yes!” Annie cried. “If you really want to pretend like you’re an overgrown toddler, this is the diaper. It makes me waddle so much that I feel like a three-year old. It’s great!”
Francesca couldn’t suppress her amusement at Annie’s enthusiasm. “That good, huh?”
Annie nodded. “Totally worth it. In fact, if I had to wear diapers 24/7, I would probably wear these if I could get away with it. They’re a little on the thick side for wearing to work, though… then again, I haven’t tried.”
“If you think you can get away with it, why not give it a shot?” Francesca suggested. “I mean, don’t do anything crazy, of course, but if you thought you could… would you?”
Annie thought about it for a moment. “I don’t know… I mean, maybe. I would definitely think about it, but I don’t know if I would take the plunge and just… jump right in, you know?” Francesca nodded, feeling somewhat ashamed of herself for wearing a diaper that she had actually worn to work while Annie had the luxury of avoiding that requirement. “But hey, like you said. If the situation was right, I think I would probably go for it.” Annie looked pointedly at Francesca before she continued. “And speaking of going for it, I think I remember telling you that you should come over expecting to be changed right away, and unless you’ve been lying to me, I know you aren’t wearing a Bellissimo, and you totally should be. Are you?” Francesca shook her head no. “Well, that settles it, then. You need a diaper change,” Annie stated bluntly, and went to get the changing supplies. Francesca couldn’t help a laugh, and Annie was smiling as she came back with a Bellissimo diaper, wipes, and a changing mat, which she spread over the floor. “Come on over and lie down.”
Francesca complied, but she left her lounge pants on, because she wanted to get the full download of a diaper change rather than assisting with it in any way. Secretly, she had been looking forward to this moment since Annie had texted her, though she wouldn’t have cared what sort of diaper she was being changed into. For her part, Annie wasted no time, and quickly pulled down Francesca’s pants to reveal her wet diaper. “Good thing I’m changing you,” she remarked as she saw how wet Francesca’s diaper was. “Not that you would have been in any danger of leaking, of course,” she went on as she began to rip open the tapes, “but a dry diaper is always more comfortable than a wet diaper,” she finished as she pulled the front of Francesca’s diaper down and grabbed a wipe. Francesca was able to avoid shivering at the cold feel of the wipe, but fortunately Annie was quick about it. Francesca lifted up when asked so Annie could get rid of her wet diaper, and then Francesca was able to watch with quiet amusement as Annie unfolded the flag that was the Bellissimo. She lifted her bottom up again when Annie asked, and moments later Annie was taping the huge diaper closed. “There! Isn’t that better?” Annie asked cheerfully.
“Yes, thank you,” Francesca said as she sat up. “How about you? Do you need to be changed?”
Annie decided to play dumb and shrugged. “I don’t know,” she said. Francesca knew at once that they had settled into a sort of role play routine, and she started to pull Annie’s pants down. Annie shrieked a laugh and tipped backwards as Francesca pulled her pants completely off and probed her diaper.
“I think you’re okay for now,” Francesca pronounced after she had checked; indeed, while Annie was a little damp, she was nowhere near wet enough to need a change, not with a Bellissimo on. Annie giggled, but she got back to her feet and disposed of Francesca’s wet diaper. Francesca remained seated on the floor for a few moments while Annie took care of that, basking in the euphoria of what she had experienced. She liked getting her diaper changed. She liked that she didn’t have to feel burdened when it happened; it was something that someone else did for her, and it was a simple act of kindness. It wasn’t anything more or less, it simply was.
The rest of the night wound its merry course, and when Francesca felt it was safe enough to drive home after having a few drinks, she very carefully made her way back to her apartment. Once safely inside, this time without making the dash across the parking lot with her padded bottom on full display, she flopped down onto her bed and almost fell asleep on the spot. Only a mental reminder to go through a few nightly routines that would make her morning far less stressful kept her from passing out on the spot, but even so, it was a near-run thing. As she crinkled noisily through her apartment, Francesca was reminded of another detail; her supply of diapers. The closet, while hardly more bare than it had been before she had left for work that morning, looked somewhat empty regardless, especially after comparing it against the enormous stock that Annie had. Annie had been nice enough to give Francesca a Bellissimo to take home, it was just one diaper. Francesca wasn’t exactly keen on the idea of wearing that particular style to work, anyway. She needed more Biancos, really. Those seemed to do the job very nicely.
However, right on the heels of that thought came another: wasn’t there an adult diaper of similar size and quality that came in a cloth-like backing instead of plastic? Spurred by the notion, Francesca went to her laptop to investigate. She had seen something about that somewhere… ah. Abena? Well, they certainly fit the bill, Francesca thought, and they were expensive enough to match Bambino prices, so they had best be good. Rather than putting it off, Francesca went ahead and ordered a bag of Abenas with a cloth-like shell and on an impulse, a bag of Bellissimos. If Abena could become her work diapers, then she could truly have high quality after-hours diapers without having to worry about running out in case she didn’t get her bladder control all the way back before she actually did run out. Once that was taken care of, she went to bed.
The morning came sooner than she wanted it to, and with it the unpleasant realization that she had probably wet her diaper again overnight at some point. She sighed at that, and then went about fixing a light breakfast before heading to the bathroom. Before she could get to the bathroom, however, she spontaneously plopped down onto the floor and crawled around for a moment, embarrassing herself hugely but also causing a fit of giggles to erupt. Francesca laid flat and rolled onto her back before gently flailing around like a toddler would, a happy smile on her lips. She listened to the stillness of her apartment, the loud crinkling coming from her bottom, and the total lack of condemnation she felt for behaving in such a fashion. She almost started to suck her thumb, but managed to avoid going quite that far only by considering that to be a little too weird.
What she did want, however, was someone to come from another room, look down at her with a face full of love, and then pick her up with great tenderness, carry her to her bedroom, tell her that everything was all right, and change her diaper. Lying there on her apartment’s living room floor, she wanted nothing more than to be taken care of. She wished for it with all her might for a handful of moments, lying as still as possible and not even breathing, but nothing happened. All she could hear was the sound of her own heartbeat; no footfalls indicating that someone was coming to check on her, no voice calling her name, no atmosphere of love and attention. The silence overwhelmed her at last and she released the breath she had been holding as an explosive sigh while tears rolling down her face. Feeling more alone than ever, she wiped them away and got to her feet to go take a shower. While she washed, she thought to herself that what good was wearing diapers—even needing them—if you had no one to take care of you? What was the big deal? Without that, they were just a really puffy sort of underwear. They had no context or meaning beyond that. It was the element of care, and most importantly, the element of love that was implied or expressed through the giving of that care through changing a diaper that gave them meaning. Without that… they were nothing.
Francesca leaned against the tile wall of the shower while she contemplated that mournful thought as the water ran hot over her skin. Until she could be certain she would be able to get through her normal working day without wetting herself, she needed them. Well, the more accurate statement was that she felt better wearing them than anything else.
After she finished with her shower, she put on a Bianco diaper, dressed for the day, and left for work. Along the way, she wondered what it would be like to let it all go. Could she really bring herself to do that? After the Caretaker case was done, could she really hand in her resignation and just… walk away from her life as she knew it? Would it be worth it? Could she afford it? Where would she go? Certainly she couldn’t stay in this city; she would have to move back home, most likely, maybe even back into her parents’ house. What would she do to keep herself supplied?
An angry car horn from behind startled Francesca out of her wild train of thought; she refocused and realized she had been sitting at a stoplight that had turned green and was now holding up traffic. Quickly, she got moving again, but had to stomach a few angry gestures from other commuters as they made haste to get past her. Francesca decided to avoid such thoughts for the remainder of her drive into work; she just hoped she could get through the day without wanting to go looking for a life that probably did not exist in the fashion she needed it to.
Re: The Caretaker’s House -Chapters 1-23 - Updated 11/28/13
Chapter Twenty-Four
“So, we’ve had some bad luck, team,” Bates was saying during a morning briefing, his frustration evident. “A water main burst across town, and it’s an ‘all hands on deck’ situation for the city. They can’t spare us any vehicles for our cover.”
“Do you think we’ll lose more than a day?” someone asked, referencing the crucial issue of time.
Bates huffed out a breath. “I hope not. But, we have to prepare for the worst,” he acknowledged. “Bowden,” he called down the table. She looked up at him expectantly. “What are the chances that there will be an opportunity to get into his place this weekend if we can’t get in tomorrow?”
Francesca took a moment to think about it. “Probably not good,” she acknowledged. “The last two weekends were apparently out of the ordinary; I think he likes one of the… players… a lot, so he made an exception, and this past weekend felt like it was more of the structured, routine occurrence I was expecting.”
Bates made a face, but Thompson chose that moment to speak up. “If the opportunity were to present itself, do you think you could get access to his computer the next time you’re in his house?”
Francesca thought about it for a moment. “It’s possible, but I’d need either one hell of an opening or a really good reason to get at it, like, as if he wasn’t even worried about what I was doing in there. He keeps a pretty tight lid on his office.”
“That really paints a suspicious picture,” Bates pointed out.
“Agreed, but there are a number of reasons he could be doing that, some of which could be criminal in the way we’re looking at him, criminal in some other way, or just a guy who doesn’t want a bunch of random women loading his computer up with spyware by going coupon-hunting online.” Francesca’s comment got a few smiles and a choked-off snicker from around the table, and even Bates unbent enough to see the humor.
“All right, so it’s a long shot,” he said, still unhappy.
“It is. But… it’s not outside the realm of possibility. If we need some sort of backup plan, I can try to think something up on the fly that’ll let me get a USB drive plugged into his system,” Francesca suggested.
Powell, one of the tech guys, spoke up then. “We can configure a small USB drive that Agent Bowden could smuggle in on her person and can self-start once plugged into the system and run in the background without bringing any notices or windows to the front. Ideally, we would let this drive copy most of the data on his system, but the best we can hope for in this situation is for this drive to open a backdoor for us to look at his system directory and all files and documents on the computer remotely, and also conduct data dumps during periods of non-use.”
Bates looked encouraged. “It’s not what we hoped to do, but I think it’s worth it to set it up.”
Thompson was nodding. “Agreed. Powell, get on that drive. Bowden, think up some excuses.” He looked around the room briefly. “This was some nice planning, people. I know today wasn’t the way we wanted to go about this, but not everything goes our way. This is a good backup, but let’s hope tomorrow we can get in and get this done. Let’s get back to it.”
The meeting broke up, and aside from a few moments of brief chatter between a couple of agents and Powell briefly talking to Francesca about the size of the drive she thought she could get in unnoticed—to which she responded the smaller the better—the individual agents returned to their departments and desks. Aside from a call from Powell to come by his desk later that afternoon to look at the drive and go over some details, Francesca’s workday returned to a more routine flow. She tidied up paperwork, organized her notes on the Caretaker Case and added details to them where pertinent, and had a very pleasant lunch at a nearby salad bar before dropping by her apartment for a diaper change. When she returned to the office, the afternoon passed by with a great deal of mundane work, and against all reason it made Francesca happy. She felt her stress and angst over the case bleed away for a little bit, and she even worried less about her own situation and found it to be a refreshing change of pace. Even stopping by Powell’s desk later that afternoon was a pleasant experience.
Powell had that same sort of professional gravity that Bates carried, and Francesca was glad that he didn’t ask any questions that might have been hard for her to answer. He walked her through the extremely simple procedure for getting the drive to do its thing (“you just plug it into an open USB port and it does the rest. No muss, no fuss. All it needs is about ten seconds.”) and told her he’d have a smaller one ready for her the next day, one small enough to be easily concealed in a small space. Francesca thanked him and returned to her desk to finish her work for the day.
Closer to the end of the work day, Bart Clayton dropped by Francesca’s desk for a chat. “Keeping busy?” he asked congenially.
Francesca nodded and gave him a small smile. “Busy is as busy does. Good thing, too; some of this… inactivity on this case is enough to drive me crazy, so I guess it’s good to have other work on my plate.”
Bart nodded. “Yeah, sometimes the big ticket item is going nowhere and people are just twiddling their thumbs and practicing their paper wad three-pointers.”
Francesca snickered. “I wish I had that kind of time.”
“I wish I could hit the basket,” Bart joked, and both of them laughed.
“Well, take comfort in the fact that you aren’t the only one,” Francesca admitted. “I can hardly drop a paper wad into the basket walking right past it, sometimes.”
“Ah well, nobody’s perfect, right?”
“Very true,” Francesca agreed, wondering where Bart was going with the conversation.
“So, a few of us were thinking about getting together tonight to watch the football game downtown. You interested?” Bart asked, finally getting to the point.
“That does sound like fun, but I’m going to pass,” Francesca said after a moment of thought. “I mean, thank you for inviting me, but I was going to connect with my C.I. and find out whether or not there’s a chance of getting into the Caretaker’s House this weekend in case tomorrow doesn’t pan out.”
If Bart was dismayed by Francesca’s choice he covered it well. “Well, that sucks that you’re not free tonight, but hey, we all have to take one or two for the team sometimes, right? There’s always another game, too,” he said, and then he bade Francesca a good afternoon and walked away, though Francesca couldn’t help but feel a little awkwardness from Bart in the abrupt end to their conversation. For her part, Francesca felt a pang of guilt over letting him down, but she reminded herself that she was a temporary agent in this office, and that inter-office fraternization wasn’t exactly a good idea. Besides, she really did need to connect with Annie and see if there was a chance of getting into the Caretaker’s House in case they couldn’t get in before the weekend.
As luck would have it, the next time Francesca looked at her phone, she saw she had a text from Annie inviting her out that evening. Francesca agreed, and then later got a follow-up text telling her that a few others would be joining them; Jane and Jenny, both of whom had been at the Caretaker’s House that Saturday. Francesca found herself looking forward to the evening. She had a fond memory of Jane as being level-headed and easy to talk to and get along with. Jenny she remembered as a delicate, almost fragile person, who seemed to need care for real instead of for play, but in spite of that, Francesca was looking forward to seeing them both.
They were meeting that evening at a small restaurant. Francesca had plenty of time to go back to her apartment, change her diaper and her outfit, and then head out to meet her friends. When she got there, she found Jane waiting and she greeted her warmly. Jenny arrived a few minutes later, and Annie brought up the rear. The four women amiably chatted outside for another minute before going inside to get a table and order drinks. Francesca was relieved to see that outside of the Caretaker’s House, Jenny was almost a completely different person. She seemed sure of herself and collected, not the damaged, flighty little thing that she had met over the weekend. Jane just seemed like she was always cool.
“I’m so glad you guys could come out tonight,” Annie gushed. “I haven’t had this much fun so often in a long time.”
“Yeah, this is really cool,” Jane agreed. “It’s such a great bonus that we can be friends outside the play.”
“I’m just glad to have friends,” Jenny said suddenly, earning surprised glances from the others around the table. Embarrassed, she explained. “I mean, I haven’t been in the city that long, so I haven’t made a lot of friends, yet, so… I’m really glad you guys have accepted me.”
Jane embraced Jenny around her shoulders. “Aww, aren’t you just the cutest thing! Of course we accept you, because you’re just as crazy as the rest of us!” Jenny blushed, but smiled. Jane released her and straightened herself out in her seat.
“I know how you feel, Jenny,” Francesca put in. “I’ve only been here a few weeks, and already I feel like Annie’s my sister.”
“Thanks, Frankie!” Annie responded. The waiter came by with their drink orders, they put in an appetizer order, and the conversation wandered from topic to topic. Francesca learned that Jenny had come to the city hoping for a brighter future with better work opportunities, but was very surprised to find out that Jane worked in child care.
“Oh yeah, it’s great. I’m working towards my certification as a pre-school teacher, and aside from the personal benefit I get while behaving like a child is learning how I would want to be treated if I was that age again. So, when I get changed or fed or I pick up a coloring book, I want that experience to be exactly what it needs to be, and I try to give that same thing back to the kids I take care of,” she explained.
“Wow,” Jenny breathed. “That’s… actually really amazing.”
Jane looked embarrassed, but said, “thank you.”
Annie agreed. “Yeah, that’s really, really cool. If I had kids, I’d want them to be in your class.”
“Stop it, I’m going to cry,” Jane demanded, now thoroughly flustered with the praise she was receiving.
“Are there… any job openings where you work?” Jenny asked tentatively.
Jane snapped out of her embarrassment after a moment to answer. “Well… actually, yes, there are. Can I have your number? I’ll text you some info on the place and see if I can set you up for an interview. You’ll have to do some training if you get hired, but I think you’d have a shot.”
Francesca found that to be interesting, but as she scrutinized Jenny’s attitude towards the opportunity as she exchanged numbers with Jane, she figured it could only be a help instead of a hindrance to the girl. Besides, she might have a real Midas touch for the position, Francesca thought, just like Jane probably did. She hoped that Jenny was able to get the position and that she excelled at it. Giving back to children might just be a way for her to finish recovering from her own abusive ordeal at the hands of that mommy character who had so traumatized Annie. Francesca hoped that she could put that person away one day.
“So, what are you guys’ plans for the weekend?” Annie suddenly asked. Francesca had to snap out of her train of thought at the question, but felt a surge of hope when it was asked. Francesca was hoping that the Caretaker was going to be hosting another event, and if anyone would have the inside track on that scoop, it would be Annie.
“Um, nothing definitive yet,” Jane answered. “Do you have something up?”
“Yeah, I was thinking about having another sleep-over,” Annie said, dashing Francesca’s hopes. “Last week, I had Frankie and Sadie over and we had a blast! I actually… sort of want to do that more often.”
“What did you guys do?” Jenny asked.
Annie giggled. “Well, we gave each other manicures and tried to mix drinks with wet nails, and eventually got pretty drunk.”
Jane giggled as well. “That sounds like it was fun. I’m up for it.”
“Yeah, me too,” Jenny piped up.
“I wouldn’t miss it,” Francesca added. “Will Sadie be there?”
“I hope so, but she might have to work, which sucks,” Annie explained, making a face.
“Well, here’s hoping that she can make it,” Francesca said as their appetizer order arrived. Plans were floated for that Friday evening, and Francesca turned her mind away from the Caretaker’s House with force. She couldn’t let a minor setback to the case get her down. She needed to get back into the Caretaker’s House, yes, but she had to remember that it wasn’t all on her shoulders to get the case solved. She was playing a role, and she had to stick to it. Losing her perspective now would only make things worse, and could have catastrophic repercussions.
As they talked about the plans for the sleepover at Annie’s, the round robin rules were explained to Jane and Jenny, who agreed even though Jenny looked a little nervous at the prospect. Francesca decided she would make it a point to be the one to take care of Jenny if her nervousness really began to increase, or to at least talk to her about it before the party got started. She hoped that Jenny would enjoy herself, and it really seemed that Jane was excited about the whole thing as well. Francesca was also looking forward to it, because she was glad that someone else would be changing her diapers again. Whatever previously existent objections in her mind could barely push through to the forefront of her thoughts. Unbeknownst to Francesca, she was slipping deeper and deeper into a lifestyle of diapers that had the potential to unravel the foundations of her life if she wasn’t careful. Deep within herself, Francesca knew this, but at that moment, she couldn’t bring herself to care. She wanted the attention. She wanted the care. She wanted to be something she wasn’t, and could never be again. Francesca also knew, in that same deep part within her, that one day she would have to make a very hard decision about whether or not she was going to stay in diapers, or leave them behind for the second, and probably final, time in her life.
For the moment, however, she couldn’t worry about that decision: first she had to worry about whether or not she was actually going to medically need diapers. Thinking about being changed prompted Francesca to surreptitiously check to see whether or not she was due for a change. Satisfied that she was okay for the moment, Francesca returned her attention to the conversation, just as Jenny was asking a question. “So, do we… like, need to bring anything?”
Annie shrugged. “Not unless you want to. I mean, bringing drinks or snacks is always a win, but I was thinking about ordering a pizza or two and just going with whatever else I have, which actually is quite a bit. I’m also pretty stocked on booze, so unless there’s something you really like to drink, we should be okay on that, too.”
Jenny looked down at the table, thoroughly embarrassed. “No, I mean… um… diapers.”
“Oh, is there a kind you like the best?” Annie asked.
“Well,” Jenny began, looking flustered. “I mean, I like baby diapers…”
Annie waved dismissively. “Don’t sweat it. I have all kinds. You can wear whatever you want. I’m just glad to have people over to have fun with, so I don’t mind providing the changing supplies.”
“Yeah, Annie’s stash is pretty epic,” Francesca added. “You don’t have to worry about bringing any if you don’t want to.”
“Well, that’s a relief, because I’m basically out,” Jane admitted.
Annie smiled. “I’ve got you covered.”
“Literally and figuratively!” Francesca put in, unable to pass up the weak but open pun. All four women shared a brief laugh over it anyway, and a little while later, the party broke up.
When Francesca returned to her apartment, she shrugged out of most of her clothes and started going through her nightly ritual, but instead of waiting until she was ready for bed to change into her overnight diaper (one of her dwindling stock of Bambino Teddys), she changed into an ABU Cushie and crawled around her apartment for a little while, similar to how she had behaved that morning. She pretended that someone was there to take care of her and pay attention to her, and she let her mind wander through various fantasies while she lay on the carpet. In one of her fantasies, a loving but faceless giant came to pick her up and carry her to her bedroom. However, instead of it being the bland, featureless bedroom she normally slept in, it was set up as a nursery. The bed was a crib and the dresser had a changing surface on top. Francesca realized that her diaper was wet and she needed to be changed anyway, but she simply ignored that fact and let the fantasy run its course… except that it ended there, and her imaginary world swam away to be replaced by what she now considered to be a drab reality. The one constant, however, was her wet diaper. With a sigh, Francesca crinkled her way to her bedroom, pausing long enough to get a fresh diaper.
While she changed, she imagined herself being taken care of by the Caretaker, again; even though she had been terrified at the time, she wanted someone to do this for her. However, that was not to be, and so she taped herself up with a sigh and finished preparing for bed, glad that the day was done with so that tomorrow, and it’s many possible promises, would come that much sooner. More to the point, she just wanted to get through the day as quickly as possible so she could go have fun with Annie and the girls that night, and be able to realize at least some of her desires. She just hoped that there wouldn’t be any surprises at the office that would derail her plans for the evening, and she drifted off to sleep with that unhappy thought lurking in the back of her mind.
Re: The Caretaker’s House -Chapters 1-24 - Updated 12/29/13
I’ve been lurking and not commenting on this story for a little while now, so I think I’m long overdue to say; Incredible story!
I’ll admit, I wasn’t hooked by the first couple chapters when you first started the story, but I’ve since given it another shot and now I’m sold. Each chapter just gets better and better. The pacing of the story, the vocabulary, and the content are all fantastic. I’m sure I’ll be on the edge of my seat as we get closer and closer to the end and learn if the Caretaker is innocent or guilty, as well as what Francesca will do with the lifestyle.
Thanks for continuing this story for the community! As always, I’ll be looking forward to the next chapter!
Re: The Caretaker’s House -Chapters 1-24 - Updated 12/29/13
This is a fantastic story and I’m eagerly hoping you’ll find the time and inspiration to continue it soon
Re: The Caretaker’s House -Chapters 1-24 - Updated 12/29/13
This is one of my favorite stories. When I first started reading it, I was interested in finding out about whether the Caretaker was innocent or not and about the ins and outs of the investigation, but as the story continued, I started to enjoy Francesca’s interaction with the other diaper girls, and the development of their friendship, and of Fran’s growing enjoyment of the diapers.
Re: The Caretaker’s House -Chapters 1-24 - Updated 12/29/13
Chapter Twenty-Five
“We have a green light to go in,” The voice of Agent Jim Bates said over the conference phone line with ill-concealed excitement. Francesca hadn’t even woken up that morning before Bart Clayton was calling her to tell her that things were moving quickly. Francesca had rushed through her morning preparations in order to get to the office as quickly as possible to be part of the big move.
Thompson was there as well, acting as the quarterback for the entire effort. “Do we have a handle on the Caretaker’s movements?” he asked.
“On-scene crew reports that the Caretaker has not yet left his residence, but if he holds to his pattern, he should be leaving within the next half-hour,” Powell reported over the line.
Thompson nodded. “Okay. Bates, do you have your guys doing their walk-throughs up and down the street?”
“They’re gearing up, now. They should be on the way in less than five minutes.”
Thompson nodded again, slowly. “Alright. This is the big show, people. Let’s get this done, but let’s get this done right. If we mess this up, we may not get another chance.”
“Copy that; we’re going to get it done,” Bates answered confidently. Thompson looked troubled for a moment, but he said nothing.
Francesca’s nervousness had been slowly increasing all morning; now it was reaching a fever pitch. She had knots in her stomach and ice in her veins, but she worked hard to keep her outward cool. She had to. If Bates needed a last-minute question answered, she had to be on the ball. To calm herself and maintain her focus, Francesca reviewed her notes from the case so far, just to remind herself of what the Caretaker’s House was like, what furniture was where, and any other salient details that she could pull to the front of her consciousness just in case they were needed. Time seemed to slow to a crawl as they waited, but then suddenly everything kicked into high gear.
“Elvis has left the building,” Powell said suddenly. In spite of herself, Francesca laughed, and then quickly smothered it as almost everyone else in the room turned surprised looks her way.
“I’m sorry,” she squeaked. “That was just… really funny,” she whispered. Thompson grunted and shook his head, and the rest of the room went back to their tasks, but less tense; surprise or not, the laugh attack had served one necessary, though unacknowledged purpose. Francesca remained smiling for several moments after, even though the obnoxious phrase that Bates had used really signified that the Caretaker had left his House, and now Lewis and Davis could make their soft entry.
“We’re on a casual ten-minute countdown to entry,” Bates reported.
“According to our information, there is no active alarm on-site,” Powell added. “We should have no trouble getting past the door lock, either.”
As the humor of the moment wore off, the nervousness returned. For better or for worse, one way or another, at some point in the next several hours Francesca would know if the Caretaker, Eric, was going to end up in prison. She would also find out that her friends Annie, Sadie, Jane, and Jenny were going to be dealt horrific personal blows when the arrest inevitably became public knowledge. There was no way that part could be kept quiet. Those things became public record as soon as they happened, essentially, first when the neighbors commented on it and told the story, and then when the police blotter in the local papers was released. Francesca hoped against hope that she wouldn’t have to be part of breaking their hearts. Francesca hoped against hope that the Caretaker was clean. Not only would it make her life so much easier, but so many people wouldn’t have to be hurt.
“We’re going in,” Davis reported, speaking in a whisper, snapping Francesca out of her reverie. Now it was real. This was it. Her heart pounded in her ears as she stared down the phone, waiting for the next report to come through. “Successful entry. No alarms. House is quiet.” And then there was silence for moments that felt like minutes as the two men worked their way through the Caretaker’s House quickly and quietly. They went straight for his office and started their work. “We have computer access… simple password protection. We’re avoiding log-in and executing a drive copy.”
“Estimate ten minutes for copy completion,” another voice whispered; Francesca assumed it was Lewis. There was another period of protracted silence, and the minutes dragged by. Francesca went back to her notes, very studiously ignoring the conference room’s phone.
And then suddenly, that was the moment that everything changed.
“We hear movement,” Davis reported. Surprise radiated around the conference room.
Bates made a choking noise as shocked looks appeared on everyone’s faces. “Movement? Can you confirm?”
A single pop came over the line, and then nothing. “Davis and Lewis, report status.”
Another pop, followed after a few moments by second one. Now, the surprise was giving way to puzzlement and concern.
“Are… you communicating by tapping your microphones?” Bates asked.
Pop.
“Are you in immediate danger?”
Pop-pop.
“One pop means affirmative, two pops means negative?” Thompson asked, which earned him a pop. “Have you been spotted?” Two pops. Thompson heaved out a breath. “Okay, guys, be ready for a mad dash. If you have to, pull the drive and go. We’ll sift whatever you get and work up a second plan.” Thompson glared around the room. “I need options, people. Let’s work up a plan to get our people out of there, unnoticed if possible.”
It was a hopeless effort, of course; everyone knew it. There was no possible way that those two agents could get out of the house without being seen… or could they?
Francesca’s mind was racing. Who could it be? Who could still be at the Caretaker’s House?! What did this mean? Who… Sadie. It had to be Sadie! Francesca’s suspicions of a romantic relationship with Eric the Caretaker were now confirmed. She looked around the room, and seeing that no one else had any immediate input, she spoke up. “Do you guys hear… crinkling or crackling, like a plastic bag, or rustling of sheets?”
There was a long period of silence, followed by a sudden pop. Thompson was looking at Francesca intently. “Bowden, what have you got?”
“I think it’s Sadie, sir,” Francesca responded. “I was wondering if she was… romantically involved with the Caretaker. She’s one of the women who participates in his role play sessions. It’s possible she could be in his bedroom, and if she’s just waking up she’s… um…” Francesca flushed pink. “She’s probably going to go to the nursery. That might give the men the opening they need to make their exit.”
“Bowden, are you certain of that?” Bates asked over the line. Francesca could appreciate Bates’ concern; he had two men in the house with an unknown presence, and things were going to get very awkward very fast if they were discovered. Right that very moment, they were looking at a huge lead being completely denied to them, not to mention potentially crucial evidence.
“Bates, if I’m completely honest, no, I am not certain of that. However, I think that is what’s most likely to happen,” she responded.
Thompson grimaced. “Lewis, Davis, do you guys still hear movement?” A single pop came back. “Did you hear what Agent Bowden said was the most likely scenario?” Another pop. “Alright, then. When this person moves, be ready to cut and run as quickly and quietly as you can.” Thompson looked sharply at Bowden. “How close is the nursery to the front door?”
“Fairly close, but I think Sadie, if it is Sadie, will be occupied in the nursery long enough for the men to exit, and I also believe that she will be facing away from them.”
Thompson just stared at her, but Bates was the one who asked the important question. “How in the world can you be sure of that?” he demanded.
Francesca breathed out to calm herself. This was it. “Because I believe she’ll be in the middle of a diaper change,” she answered.
Silence reigned.
“Are you kidding me?” Bates finally asked.
“No,” Francesca said. “If it is Sadie, she’s probably engaged in some sort of special role play with the Caretaker, and that means that she’s likely going to be wearing a diaper, and that also means that… she will likely have used that diaper as well. The process of changing with those diapers is extremely loud; it should cover the noise of Davis and Lewis exiting.”
Three pops came over the line suddenly, and everyone turned their attention back to the phone line, instantly cutting the conversation.
“I am receiving text messages from the men inside,” Powell reported. “They report they hear movement consistent with someone getting out of bed. Now they hear footsteps. A door opening… and someone walking down the hall. They heard a lot of crinkling and crackling that resembled the sound of a plastic bag.” Thompson looked at Francesca and gave her a nod, and Francesca knew she was the subject of a lot of scrutiny in the room. She smiled back at him, but everyone knew they weren’t out of the woods yet. “They remain unobserved, and they’re making their exit.”
Francesca could swear that she heard the familiar sounds of a diaper being opened, and surmised that the two men were just now walking past the nursery. They were almost there. Silence again, and then background noise increased. Francesca thought she heard… a car engine?
“We have successful exit,” Davis reported. “Agent Bowden called it perfectly. One female, crazy hair job, and she was in the nursery with her back to us.”
“How the hell did you know that would happen just like that, Bowden?” Bates asked, incredulous.
“Because that’s how the Caretaker changes her,” Francesca answered. “I’ve… seen him do it.” She felt embarrassment again, but she fought through it.
“We also managed a successful drive copy. We’re about to hand the drive over to Powell for tagging,” Lewis reported.
Thompson raised a fist slightly in a gesture of victory. “Damn fine work. Everyone. This was damn fine work. Bowden, that was a hell of a call. Bates, get you and your men back here and let’s get cracking on putting this thing to bed.”
Francesca sat back in her chair and relaxed for a moment. The conference line was closed and one by one the different people in the room began to return to their desks. Francesca was among the first to leave, and she sat down at her desk with visible relief. The first part was over. It had been so close, but now it was over. Why hadn’t anyone known that Sadie was there? Francesca pondered over that question for several moments. Could she have been picked up and brought back by Eric himself? It was the most probable scenario. Either way, right that moment it didn’t matter, because she hadn’t seen the two FBI agents, and everything had worked out, at least as far as they had copied the Caretaker’s computer drive. That didn’t mean anything in and of itself, however. The contents of the drive still had to be investigated and searched. They weren’t out of the woods, yet.
By the time the field team returned to the office, it was nearly lunch time, and Francesca was looking forward to a diaper change of her own. The team went straight to the lab to begin sifting through the drive contents, and Francesca decided at that moment she couldn’t stand it; she had to get away for a little while. She stood up with her purse and started walking towards the elevator when Bates caught up with her. “Hey, Bowden,” he called to forestall her. She turned to look at him. “I just wanted to say… that was amazing. You probably saved my guys right there. I wanted to thank you in person, because that…” he blew out a breath. “That was huge. I mean, you called it right down the middle, as if you were there.” Bates suddenly realized he was being overly effusive, and Francesca wasn’t able to do anything other than look at her feet and smile in complete embarrassment. “Anyway, thank you. You probably just saved this whole case.”
“I… I don’t know what to say, but, um… you’re welcome,” she replied. Bates gave her a nod and his own smile, and turned away to get back to work. Francesca relaxed and completed her exit of the building.
When she got back to her apartment complex, she was happy to see that her new order of diapers had come in, and she collected the large and somewhat heavy package and brought it into her apartment immediately. When she opened the box, she pulled out the previously-unfamiliar bag of Abenas and hastily opened it to reveal a neat row of folded white diapers with striping in the middle and a cloth-like outer shell that Francesca was looking forward to experiencing. She took one out and and unfolded it to examine it in greater detail, and then with a smile she went to her bedroom to change.
Francesca’s first experience with the Abena was to realize the similarities between it and a Bambino, but that first impression was quickly replaced as the stronger differences manifested. The first thing she noticed was how quiet it was by comparison; certainly it rustled and crinkled, but not nearly to the same extent as the plastic-shelled Bambino. The cloth-like shell was softer against her skin, and the two-stage tape was a new experience, but its function simple enough. When she had finished changing and stood up in her first Abena diaper, Francesca felt almost completely different. When she went to the bathroom to look at her reflection in the mirror, Francesca couldn’t help but smile. That was more like it, she thought to herself. This was a diaper meant for adults, people who wanted to control a problem instead of indulging in it. It was amazing what a difference the structure of the garment made. To Francesca, the Bambino diapers would always be associated with her age play indulgence, regardless of their outside style, but the Abenas… those she would associate with adulthood, practicality, and forward thinking. These were not diapers for the age player, no; these were diapers for people who had lives to lead and goals to accomplish. Francesca felt far less impeded wearing it than she had while wearing Bambinos or Cushies, and she was surprised to realize that she had felt restrained, perhaps even trapped, by the more infantile diapers. Yes, these would do nicely, she thought to herself. They looked sharp and professional. They were just the sort of thing Francesca needed, at least until she could be sure of her bladder control once again, she reminded herself.
When Francesca got back to the office after lunch, she found an email waiting for her from Thompson asking her to come to his office when she got back from lunch. Not wasting any time, she went to see him immediately. “You wanted to see me, sir?” she asked, knocking on his door.
“Yeah, Bowden, come in,” he invited from his desk, and he pulled away from his computer monitor to face her as Francesca seated herself in one of the chairs opposite him. “I wanted to congratulate you on making that call during the raid, if we can even call it that. Your intel was spot on, and everything looks like it went off without a hitch. That’s damn fine work. That’s also the sort of quick judgment based on credible information and observation that takes people places.” He paused for a moment while Francesca tried her best not to be embarrassed at the praise, and in that moment Thompson’s demeanor changed. “Now, you and I both know that this could get real ugly if we find what we hope not to find in his computer files. Agent Bowden, I have to ask you seriously: are you prepared for the worst case?” he asked, in a much more gentle tone than Francesca was used to hearing him speak in.
Sensing the gravity of the situation, Francesca waited a moment before she responded. “Well… if I’m honest, sir, no, I’m not. It’s going to be… hard to have to deal with those women if we have to arrest him. I’m going to feel like I betrayed them all.”
Thompson nodded. “I know how you feel, and it’s not going to be easy. The flipside of all this is that we also have to talk to each of these women, interview them, because we will need to get their feedback on the Caretaker to build a complete profile. There won’t be any way to hide you during that, because you’ll be needed to bridge gaps, judge their reactions to questions, parse their statements for inaccuracies, all that jazz. It could be really tough, Bowden, and I mean drink-yourself-to-sleep tough, and I’m telling you all this not because I want to scare you, but because I want you to be ready for it, and I also want you to be get help if you start going off the deep end. Okay?”
Francesca had steadily shrunk into her chair as Thompson had spoken, and she suddenly felt very small, as if her work clothes were just a costume and her real existence was just an overgrown child. “Yes, sir. Thank you for giving me that… head’s up. Um… I really hope I don’t have to go through any of that.” Francesca felt haunted. “I’ve gotten really close with my primary contact, Annie. She’s a friend. I love her to death, and I really don’t want to see her hurt.”
Thompson nodded slowly. “In the end, as terrible as it sounds, it will be better for them to break it to them now, rather than letting it fester. If this guy is dirty, and he suddenly decides that what he’s doing isn’t good enough, then that means he could put real lives in real danger. But, I will say this, Bowden. I want your guy to be innocent. I want all of them to be. But we have a duty.”
Francesca nodded. “Yes, sir. I understand you perfectly.”
Thompson studied Francesca for a moment, and then he nodded. “I’m glad you do. Thanks for coming by,” he said, and Francesca picked up on the dismissal and quietly left. On the way back to her desk and while she was trying to order her thoughts, she saw Bates, Lewis, Powell, and Davis walking the other way through another row of cubicles. Their expressions were dark and troubled, and Francesca immediately began to fear the worst. They were headed to Thompson’s office, and she knew that one way or another, the day was about to take a seriously bad turn.
Re: The Caretaker’s House -Chapters 1-25 - Updated 1/19/14
Great chapter. I’m breathless with anticipation waiting for the next installment.
Re: The Caretaker’s House -Chapters 1-25 - Updated 1/19/14
Thanks for the update, it was a fun readwaves