Re: The Diaper Whisperer
CASE 1: TAKING CARE OF BUSINESS
As I approached the door, I could hear frantic talking coming from the other side. I turned the knob and was greeted with a blast of loud, fast words coming from the suited businessman. He was pacing the room and apparently talking to someone on his obviously-expensive earpiece.
“I don’t care what public relations thinks! This advertisement needs to go through if we want to see any increase in revenue!… Then make it less violent!… No, you explain to those idiots in the creative department that audiences don’t want to see that shit on their televisions and make them fix it!”
I tried to intervene and get the guy’s attention. During one of his pauses I said, “Sir…”
“Is that a fucking joke?! What, you wanna just name the company Geico while we’re at it?”
“Sir.”
“I am telling you that angle has already been taken. Tell them to come up with an original fucking idea or so help me God-”
“Would you please hang up the God damn phone!” I finally yelled.
This seemed to catch his attention. His glaring eyes focused on me, and he finally silenced himself. “I’ll call you back later, Julie,” he said, pressing down on the earpiece and finally ending the call. “Who the fuck do you think you are?” He pointed at me accusingly. “I was in the middle of a very important call and you can’t just-!”
“For the love of God, will ya sit down and shut up?” I said, referencing the table with two chairs situated across from one another.
The man was silent for a second, his eyes still piercing me like he was ready to pounce at any second. But he obeyed, and slowly lowered into one of the chairs. I listened closely, and heard the telltale rustle of a diaper which, had I not known he was wearing it, would have escaped my ears. His square jaw clenched in frustration as the wrinkles imprinted on his forehead deepened. “Let’s just get this the hell over with,” he said deeply.
I sat across from him and looked at the files, pretty uncomfortable that I was currently in the presence of a diapered, 40-something man. “Let’s see… Ted Kappel, I presume?”
“That’s my name, yes,” he nodded.
“And some recent encounters caused you to want to wear… diapers.”
Noticeably just a bit shaken by the word, Ted responded, “I prefer the term ‘adult undergarments,’ but yes, that is correct.”
A hilarious thought entered my mind. I smirked, “Would it be alright if I call you ‘Teddy Bear?’”
The man slammed his hands on the table and shot up. “I don’t have to sit here and take this shit,” he growled angrily. He started heading quickly for the door, but I stopped him in his tracks.
“Woah woah woah, now.” I blocked the doorway. “Take it easy, it was just a little joke. C’mon, have a sense of humor.”
The man’s stern face looked down at me, blistering red. “Fine.” He waggled his finger at me, speaking menacingly. “But one more crack like that and I’ll be out that door faster than you slithered out of the hole your mother had you in. Have some damn respect, you little prick.” With that, he turned around and resumed his seat.
I followed, picking up the clipboard once more. “So. Mr. Kappel.” He nodded in approval. “You’re here because of a report that a mysterious man enticed you into wearing di- uh, adult undergarments,” I corrected myself.
I was about to continue, but he cut me off. “No, I’m here because my bitch wife sent me with the threat of otherwise putting me in a mental institution.”
We were both silent for a second. “May I continue?” I asked politely as possible.
“Yeah, like I said hurry this up,” he said quickly, waving me on.
“Alright.” I stood up and began drifting slowly to the back of the room, still looking at the clipboard. I turned around to face him again: the look on his face displayed obvious impatience with me. So I cut to the chase. I said, “Why don’t you tell me when this whole… ‘situation’ began?”
“There was a guy, we talked a few times, and eventually I started wearing these undergarments. Happy now?” He rolled his eyes while saying this.
Without looking up, I told him, “You know you’re not getting out of here until you give me every last detail.”
I heard him groan loudly. “Alright, fine.” I started scribbling notes as he began his story.
I was in my office building, on the tenth floor of the Truman’s Insurance headquarters. I was talking with my secretary, Julie, who was telling me about the day’s schedule, what was and wasn’t done yet, etcetera etcetera. Meanwhile I was writing up a report for our advertising campaign, which the CEO had put me in charge of specifically. It’s a lot of fucking work, lemme tell you, but it pays good.
Anyway, one of my underlings walked in and handed me a phone. “Sir, the creative department is on the phone for you,” he told me.
“Put 'em on hold for a while,” I said. “I gotta take a leak.”
“Sir,” he insisted, “it’s urgent.”
So I said, “God damn it, gimme the phone,” and yanked it from his scrawny little hand. Putting it up to my ear, I said, “Make this quick, I’m very busy.”
“Sorry, Mr. Kappel,” the lady on the other line tells me. “Henry called in sick; we won’t be able to do the pitch today.”
I rubbed my forehead in irritation. “You gotta be shittin’ me,” I said. Meanwhile, my bladder is pretty much screaming for relief at this point. I’d been holding it all day, and it was 4:00. But I stayed on the line. “I’ll reschedule the damn thing. Tell Henry that if he misses another god damn day he’s fired.”
“Sir, the next date we can possibly do the pitch is three weeks from now. Mr. Truman expects an idea by the end of this week.”
“FUCK!” I yelled. I was so pissed off at this point, but that only made my desperation worse. I had to go, badly. So calming down, I said, “Fine, uhh… I’ll- I’ll figure something out. In the meantime just get back to the drawing board.”
“Very good, sir,” she said. Then she hung up. I stood up quickly and felt the full weight of my bladder pressing down. Shit, I thought. I’m gonna leak again if I don’t hurry. Unfortunately for me, the nearest bathroom was all the way across the damn building, two floors down. So I speed walked the two minutes through the hallway, and waited another three just for the elevator to come up to my floor. I was bouncing anxiously at this point; my mind was trying to focus on just holding it, but I kept thinking about all the work I still had to do, which made it even harder.
The elevator finally hit the eight floor. And I mean “hit.” Some piss dribbled out and soaked into my clothes, and I just prayed to God that nobody noticed. It’s one of the reasons I’d taken to wearing black pants every day.
So anyway, I finally made it to the bathroom and unzipped myself to start pissing. It felt good to finally let it go, but I couldn’t be too happy; I was wasting another three or four minutes just standing there in front of the urinal. I really gotta get back, I thought. But then, I also had to wipe off the wet spot on my pants. Remembering this made me groan. Why can’t there be an easier way? I thought desperately.
“But there is.” A soft voice said behind me. I turn my head to look, and there was this guy standing there. Looked to be about twenty, maybe twenty-two, wearing a suit kinda like mine, just smilin’ and whatnot.
Confused, I finished my business before responding. “The fuck did you just say?” I asked as I turned all the way around. This time, i noticed a really weird, red glint in his eyes. Couldn’t explain it to you if I tried.
“You don’t have to keep interrupting your work to make pit stops, you know,” he told me.
This guy was obviously trying to get my attention, but I wasn’t having it. “I don’t got time for your fucking games, kid. I gotta get back to work,” I told him.
I was at the door when he said, “You’re not gonna take care of that spot on your pants first?”
I stopped. This last attempt had worked. How the hell did he know that I had a wet spot on my pants? I looked down and I could barely see it; the pants were pitch black. I let go of the door and turned around, reaching for a paper towel and not taking my eyes off of the guy. “Alright, what’s this all about?” I said, starting to wipe the spot dry.
“Oh, nothing,” he told me. I wished he’d just get to the point; that fucking smile of his was starting to piss me off. He brushed his long, black hair out of his eyes real quick and continued. “It’s just that these bathroom breaks of yours seem to be getting rather… inconvenient.”
Still wiping my pants off, I said, “Yeah, a little bit. Where you going with this? I gotta get back to work.” Finished wiping myself, I stood there and waited impatiently for his response.
“You don’t have to settle for rushing down here every few hours, you know,” he told me in a salesman-like tone. “There are some… alternatives you might consider.”
I crossed my arms and scoffed. “Alternative like what, getting an office closer to the damn bathroom? I’ve been working in the same office for five years, buddy. Ain’t no way that’s gonna change just because I gotta take a piss once in a while.”
“I realize that. I was actually suggesting you find an alternative for restroom trips altogether. Even if there were a restroom on your floor, you’d still be interrupting your work to use it, wouldn’t you?”
Okay, this guy had a point. Bathroom breaks were just annoying in general when there’s so much else to get done. “Yes, I suppose,” I told him after a moment of thought. “It would be nice if I didn’t have to go to the bathroom all the time.” I turned around to throw away the balled up paper towel. Turning back to look at him I began, “But that’s kind of unavoid…a…ble…” I trailed off when I realized he was nowhere to be seen. I looked around, confused. What the fuck? I thought.
But I didn’t have time to think about it. I looked at my watch and suddenly realized I’d wasted a full ten minutes in the bathroom. “Damn it,” I muttered, running back to the elevator.
So the rest of they day was pretty uneventful. I managed to get that whole situation worked out with the CEO and we agreed on another date for the pitch, but that’s about it.
I came home about 8:00 like always. My wife Helen was on the computer, looking at some stupid blog shit. She greeted me as I walked in and asked how my day was.
“Great, great,” I responded unenthusiastically. “My pitch guy called in sick and we had to reschedule the whole damn thing.”
“Oh, that’s too bad,” she said sweetly, rubbing my shoulders. “Anything else?”
I thought, and remembered the little scenario in the bathroom. “Well, there was this oddball in the bathroom who was talking about seeking ‘alternatives’ to making a bathroom trip every hour of the day, whatever the hell that means.”
She giggled. “What, you mean like diapers?”
That made me pause. “Diapers?” I hadn’t yet thought specifically of what the guy might have meant. Hell, I’d forgotten the whole thing up until that point, I’d been so busy. “Don’t be ridiculous. Only babies wear diapers; that can’t be what he meant.”
She stood in front of me now, an amused grin on her face. “They do make adult diapers, you know. My grandma wears them.”
Oh yeah, I thought. Old people wear them too, I guess. “Well, it’s still a stupid idea,” I said. “And I still doubt that’s what he meant.”
“Well,” she said, rolling her eyes, “I can’t think of any other ‘alternatives’ to the bathroom.”
“That guy was a goofball,” I said, sorry I’d ever brought up the topic. “Looked like a god damn teenager. Probably just messing with me.”
“If you say so,” she told me, letting go of my shoulders. She leaned in close and asked, “So… You ready for a little fun?”
Well, sex sounded good, don’t get me wrong, but I was too damn tired. “Not tonight honey,” I said. “Long day at work. I’m exhausted.” So I ate dinner and went straight to bed.
Well, lo and behold I woke up in the middle of the night. I looked at my clock: 3:30 AM and I had to piss.
“God fuck,” I said under my breath. So I got out of bed and went to the bathroom. And in the middle of my piss I hear this voice.
“Still a slave to the toilet, I see.”
Well that about scared the living shit outta me, so I turned my head to look and sure enough, there’s that douche with the black hair and the red eyes, still wearing his suit.
I hadn’t even pulled my pants up over my junk before I had him against the wall by his tie. “How the FUCK did you get into my house, you little bastard?!”
That damn smile. I swear it was super glued to his face by the devil himself. “Relax, Ted,” he told me. “I’m just here to talk.”
I still didn’t let him go. “How do you know my name?” I demanded. “You some kinda stalker or something?”
“I wouldn’t go by that term, no,” he said smugly. “But I know a couple things about you, Ted. For instance, going to the bathroom is really getting in the way of your work. Don’t you have to wake up in the morning?”
My grip softened as I started realizing he didn’t mean me any harm. Fine, I thought, I’ll humor this jackass and call the police afterward. “Yeah, I do. What of it?”
I finally let him go, and he took a step away from the wall. Brushing his tie straight, he continued. “Wouldn’t it be nice if you didn’t have to wake up to go to the bathroom?”
“Hey,” I said, pulling up my underwear, “I don’t do this every night. I just forgot to go before I went to bed is all.”
“Suppose it happens again, maybe the night before a very important day. What then? You wanna walk around tired the rest of the day because you didn’t pee before bed?”
That made me think. It was true that my whole day would suck tomorrow just because I had to piss in the middle of the night. But I still didn’t know what he was getting at. I thought back to what my wife said. It seemed like the only thing he could be talking about, but there was just no way.
So, to test the waters a bit, I said, “This ‘alternative’ you mentioned. My wife interpreted it as you suggesting I wear…” I waited to see if he would finish my sentence, but he just stared at me expectantly. So I said it. “…diapers?”
He pinched his chin as if thinking. “Hmm. Diapers, huh?” he said, interested. “Yes, that would be one alternative, wouldn’t it? What do you think about that, Ted?”
I wasn’t expecting the question, so I collected my thoughts real quick before answering. "Well, I think it’s absolutely ridiculous. What kind of self-respecting businessman would waltz around his office in diapers?
He started pacing slowly, back and forth, his hands now behind his back as he spoke. “Is it really?” he asked me. “Why do you say that? Because babies wear them? Is it just simply not ‘proper attire’ for someone of your position?”
He had pretty much hit the mark, so I said, “Well, yeah.” I added, after some thought, “Not to mention it’s highly unsanitary. There’s no way the health code would allow it.”
He kept pacing, the devilish smile still on his face. “Have you ever read the health code, Ted? Because I’m fairly certain that as long as none of your…” he cleared his throat. “…‘waste’ actually touches anything, then you’re perfectly within its boundaries. As for the attire situation, what if you just hide it well enough that nobody can see it? Out of sight, out of mind, right?”
Well, that did kinda make sense. A diaper is meant to keep everything contained, after all. Plus, how hard could it be to keep it hidden under my pants? But it still didn’t seem right to me.
He must have noticed my continuing apprehension, so he kept going. “Look, I’m not trying to make you do anything. Like I told you before, I’m just trying to help. If, on the off chance, you did decide to wear diapers, I think it would solve your restroom problem without a hitch. Just imagine the convenience of not having to make those daunting trips anymore!”
The more I thought about it, the more it made sense. Wearing diapers would save me those trips, which in turn meant that I could get so much more work done. It definitely seemed like the efficient way to go. But there were still a few problems I could think of.
Before I could mention them, the door to the bathroom suddenly opened. I jerked my head to see Helen standing there, and she flipped the light switch on. “Ted?” she yawned. “Who’re you talking to?”
I pointed in front of me, about to reference the young man, but he was gone. Damn, just like earlier, I thought. What is with this guy?
“Ted?”
I decided to answer my wife. I shook my head, saying, “I’m sorry. I just had to go to the bathroom and I could’ve sworn I saw that guy again.”
“Oh, really?” A look of both interest and concern flashed across her face. “Well where is he now?”
“I have no idea,” I said, looking around the room again. “It’s like… he just disappeared.”
“Did he say anything to you?” she asked me.
I hesitated. “Well… I brought up what you said about the diapers… And he said it was a good idea.” I shrugged as it it were nothing.
Obviously, Helen thought it was something. Her mouth opened slightly in disbelief. “So this guy just appears to you, tells you to wear diapers and then leaves?”
Wow, did that sound stupid. I stood there like an idiot for a good ten seconds before finally shaking my head. “It’s nothing,” I said, turning on the sink to wash my hands. “I had a really long day at work and my mind must be playing tricks on me.” I turned off the faucet and walked past my wife, whose worried gaze followed me to the bed. After a minute, she turned off the bathroom light and lied down next to me.
“I’m a little worried about all this,” she told me.
Irritated and just trying to get to sleep I said, “I told you it’s fine. Now just let me get some sleep, okay?”
“Fine,” she responded, “but you’d better tell me if this happens again.”
So the next day I woke up before Helen, as usual. I made some coffee to take with me, then was out the door in about thirty minutes. While driving I realized that the coffee had gone right through me, and the urge to piss suddenly started growing. And of course I was stuck behind a whole line of traffic, so I wouldn’t be to work for at least another twenty minutes.
I started tapping the steering wheel nervously as thoughts of that mysterious man ran through my head. I still wasn’t totally desperate but, much as I hated to admit it, a diaper would’ve been pretty nice right then and there.
“Stuck in traffic?” The voice came from my right. My heart nearly shot out of my chest as I jerked my head to see the that the man had appeared in the passenger seat next to me. Still happy and smiley as ever.
“How the- Wha- How did you get in my car?” I kept looking from him to the road and back to him, once again shocked at his sudden appearance.
He just looked ahead this time, his red eyes fixed on the road. “Just thought I’d hitch a ride with you, Ted. Is there a problem with that?”
I was still pretty shaken, but at the same time I couldn’t help but feel almost glad that he was there. I still had questions about this whole diaper nonsense he was talking about.
“Well, I… I guess not,” I muttered uncomfortably.
“So. Have you thought about our little talk at all?” he asked casually.
So I told him, “Uh, kinda. You’re actually making some sense, but I can still see some problems with what you’re suggesting-”
He stopped me as he turned his head to look at me. “What I’m suggesting?” He put his hand on his chest for emphasis. “But Ted, you’re the one who brought up the idea to ME. I just thought it was a good one, and I’m trying to help you see that.”
“But there are so many things wrong with it!” I told him. “Like, what if someone smells me after I… you know. And when am I supposed to change out of it? You don’t expect me to sit in the same one all day, do you? And lastly, let’s remember what we’re talking about: fucking diapers. Diapers!” I slammed my hand on the steering wheel. “Something babies wear to catch their shit because they’re not developed enough to hold it! And you’re telling me I should wear them??”
The guy’s eyes turned back to the road, across which we were still inching painfully slowly. He seemed to think about something, then he said, “So… you’re still concerned with the whole pretense that only babies wear diapers?”
“Yes,” I told him. But after remembering what my wife had told me the day before, I added, “Well, and I guess some old people, too.”
He seemed to cling on this as his eyes lit up. “Exactly!” he exclaimed excitedly, turning back to face me. “Older people have to wear diapers, too. Except they’re not called ‘diapers.’ People refer to them as ‘briefs’ or ‘adult undergarments.’”
That caught my interest. “Really?” I said. “Well, that does sound a bit more dignified than ‘diapers.’”
“Then call them that!” he told me. “They’re not diapers, they’re adult undergarments. And they’re to help you get more work done during the day. And as for the smell, it’s really hard for people to smell pee underneath the outer plastic material. The only time you’ll really need to worry is when you go number two, but there are plenty of supplements that can help to counteract that, or you can just do it at home. Changing? Just do it after you clock out. You’ll only be in the same diaper for a couple of hours, and the undergarments are built to keep the moisture off your skin. So as long as you watch your liquid intake, you’ll be fine!”
Well, that guy was quite the salesman. He had answered pretty much every question I’d still had; presented every bit of his case in the most logical and cohesive way possible. But it still didn’t feel right; imagining myself wearing adult undergarments still made me uncomfortable.
I hadn’t realized the line of traffic had moved considerably, and the guy behind me beeped his horn. I swiveled my head around to look behind me, then looked back at the road, and started driving. And when I looked back to my right, he was gone. Again.
When I finally made it to work I rushed into the bathroom, as at this point I really had to go. The entire drive all I could think about were the guy’s words, and still I thought of them, trying to come up with another point to counter him; some other fact that could bring the logic of it all crashing down. But I came up empty.
As I washed my hands, I looked at myself in the mirror. Are you really considering this? I thought to myself. Then, out of the corner of my eye, I saw his reflection. He was standing some distance behind me, his eyes seeming to glow and his smile growing larger. But when I turned around, he wasn’t there at all.
I shook my head as I walked back to my office, very confused with all this. Hours went by and I continued working, but this guy was always there in the back of my mind. Finally, I gave in. Using the computer on my desk, I searched “adult undergarments.” Several products came up, all designed for adults, varying in size and absorbency. I clicked through some of the links and stopped on one that seemed both effective and somewhat cheap: Attends Extended Wear, twenty dollars. I added it to the cart and went to the checkout, my heart racing as I thought of what I was actually doing. I entered all my information: my name, address, and credit card number. I hesitated for a minute before clicking the checkout button. This was it, my last chance to turn back. But some force took hold of me, and I quickly pressed the left mouse button.
“Thank you for your purchase!”
I had been listening to Ted’s story intently, jotting down notes about this mysterious person, including his physical description and the things he had said.
Ted continued on: “So the undergarments came a couple days later. Helen obviously saw them and knew I had been talking to that guy again, so she sent me to a doctor, which was no help. After some research, she found a couple stories and myths about this ‘Diaper Whisperer’ guy, who had apparently been the one appearing to me. Some kind of supernatural being, I guess. And that’s when she sent me to you guys. ‘You talk to them, or you can talk to the warden of a mental institution,’ she told me.”
I looked over my notes. “So,” I began, “you think this ‘guy’ who kept appearing to you was the Diaper Whisperer?”
“Hell if I know,” he said, throwing up his arms. “Sure didn’t seem like any ordinary fellow, that’s for sure.”
“And this all occurred over the course of… two days?”
He looked to the ceiling in thought. “Up until I actually bought any, yeah it was about two days.”
Wow, I thought, astounded. This thing works fast. I jotted down “2 days” on the paper, then asked him one last question. “How do you feel now about your… undergarments?”
“Well, I feel pretty good,” he said, nodding. “Like the guy said: much more efficient than restroom breaks. Change once in the morning, once at night. Haven’t interrupted my work or sleep schedule once for the damn toilet. And quite frankly…” He looked toward his waist, smiling slightly. “…they’re pretty comfortable.”
I wrote down “happy with life changes” on the paper. Finally, I looked up at him, looking him over one last time.
“Well?” he asked expectantly. “Are we finished here or what?”
“Yeah,” I replied. “Yeah, you can go.” We both stood up, and I reached my hand out for him to shake. “Thanks for coming in, Mr. Kappel. Your story will help tremendously with our studies.”
He almost returned the shake, but his earpiece began ringing. “Oh shit, I gotta take this,” he said, walking past me as he answered the call.
I followed him out the door and back into the main entrance room, catching a whiff of something quite unpleasant as I went. I wrinkled my nose as I watched him walk out the door, talking to his earpiece.
Johnny appeared next to me. “So how’d it go with diaper boy?” he asked.
I gave him my notes, which he began looking over. “This thing is a fast worker,” I said. “Two days and he had this guy in diapers, or ‘adult undergarments’ as he calls 'em.” I air-quoted “adult undergarments,” speaking in an exaggerated version of Ted’s business-like approach.
“Yeah…” he kept flipping the pages. “…But from what I can tell, it seemed like he was kind of predisposed to this happening. I mean, just look at all this.” He listed through the notes. “Holding for long periods of time, stains on pants, complains about restroom breaks…”
I looked at him curiously. “What’re you saying?”
“Well, like you said. It only took two days for this specter to do its work. I think it picks out the easy targets; the ones he knows are already leaning toward something like this.”
“Hmm…” I thought for a moment. “You may be onto something there.” I looked down the hall at the rooms in which the other victims were waiting. “But we still got two more cases to go through, so let’s not make any hasty speculations.”
