The Caretaker's House - Chapters 1-40 - Updated 1/5/17

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.

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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 ::slight_smile:
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?”


“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.

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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.

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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.