Re: Secrets, Secrets
A hulk-sized panic attack seized through me as I read the words again.
I Know Scy.
Simple but effective in sending a message; my secret is no longer in my own hands.
I flip the paper, worried an onlooker may recognize the taboo word. My heart feels like it is Rocky pounding on meat, aiming to crack ribs. My Taco Bell lunch may make an unwarranted appearance at any moment.
“Get a hold of yourself” I rationalize silently to myself, “No one sees and no one notices. And even if they did, those words mean nothing.”
I glance around and confirm my suspicions. The glaze-eyed look of 20 students staring off at a rambling teacher is a welcome sight.
I finally win the struggle over controlling my breath and begin to contemplate opening the dreaded letter. As my hand slowly moves towards the note, my entire focus on the unassuming rectangle of white, a jolt on the back of my chair is all my pent up nerves need to spring up and draw the attention of the rest of the class.
And Ms. Clausen.
“Mr. Duffy, are you so quick to leave my class that you can’t wait for me to finish speaking? Or is my rendition of the basics of ethics in reporting so inspiring you mean to give me a standing ovation?” Ms. Clausen said in her dry and calculating voice.
“Uh, the second one. Just love those ethics,” I stutter, giving an awkward few claps to add to the effect. “You just can’t have journalism without them.”
The room remains deathly silent as I sink back into my seat, hoping and praying that Ms. Clausen never learned any death curses in her centuries of training with her coven of witches. By her stare, I’m sure she is as upset as I’m relieved as she returns to her chalkboard without a further word towards me.
As the bored students return to their drawl-induced comas, I peek over my shoulder to see Khloe’s green eyes questioning my skittish behavior.
I have never been one for small talk with people, but I am even more lost in the art of silent communication as I try to express an equal look of confusion back as to why she so desperately needed my attention.
She sighs and gives up on the futile attempt to talk and returns to her slumped position on her desk, head in one hand and her light brown hair covering her eyes to hide a possible nap.
With Khloe drifting back to sleep, I am finally able to open the note and read what my secret follower has to say.
I know who you are, you dirty boy. I have seen your kink and I want to see more. If you respect your privacy, follow my wishes and check your “personal” email for further instructions.
A few cryptic words but what my eyes were drawn to more, was a pair of perfect red lips adorning the lower corner of the letter. My torturer apparently signed my death sentence with a kiss.
At least the lips let me know that I’m not being stalked by a large, virtual gorilla whose only fashion sense is a red tie.
I remain in silent agony for the remainder of the class as I watch the minute hands slowly tick by. The usual dread of having to face Ms. Clausen after class has now been replaced with thoughts much more dire.
The bell rings and I pack my things slowly, knowing that Ms. Clausen will stop me to have a chat before I go. Khloe gives me one more concerned glance as she joins the crowd filing out of the door.
“Mr. Duffy,” Ms. Clausen says dryly, overemphasizing the beginning syllables of those two words as she always does. “You are expected to leave here and become an actual adult in just a few days and yet you continue to act as a child in my classroom. To say I’m disappointed in you would be an understatement.”
“I’m so sorry Ms. Clausen,” I say with the most sincerity I can manage. “The tardiness and the outburst in class were completely accidental and uncalled for.”
Ms. Clausen lets out a sigh, as it seems to dawn on her how fruitless it is to continue to lecture a graduating senior.
“Fine. You’re a good student Dexter Duffy, but you need to keep your head out of the clouds and in reality sometimes.”
The amount of care in Ms. Clausen’s voice takes me unaware. I’m sure she had to have a heart but to actually show signs of it may go down in school history.
“Th-thanks, Ms. Clausen. I appreciate it,” I manage to squeak out from my confused state.
“Good, now get out of here and enjoy the rest of your week.” Ms. Clausen says with a slight smile. “And no more uncalled for accidents, young man!”
My steps are slow and plodding as I make my way out of the classroom door.
Could this all be a dream? Maybe a semi ran a red light on my lunch break and I’m in some bizzaro purgatory? A quick pinch to myself reminds me that if it is some alternate universe, I’m not getting out of it anytime soon.
The rest of the school day passes in a blur. Before I know it, I’m facing my Toyota, key in hand and having another panic attack as I know what I must do when I get home.
What could this person want from me? How did they figure this out? Do others already know about my …diapers…? The invasion of privacy has me even questioning if my thoughts are truly safe. Either way, the questions are useless until I manage to find out more on my fate.
I make it home and manage to slink into the house undisturbed. Both of my parents would be at work for another 2 hours or so but my sister could be anywhere and I am not in the mood to handle her shenanigans.
Keeping an eye over my shoulder for a nosey 16 year old, I manage to sneak back into my room where I flop on to my nicely made bed and pull my laptop from its hiding place beneath my nightstand. A few clicks and button presses and my gmail sits before me.
I rarely actually ever check my email on an actual computer, as I prefer to quickly check it on my phone. Seeing it always depresses me as it is always the one place I never seem to keep in order. 100’s of unread emails remain in my inbox; everything from personal reminders to cancel my monthly subscriptions to certain websites, useless ads to sell me geeky clothes, thank you emails from my Journalism group at school, and more.
I let out another sigh as I steel my nerves and switch to my alternate email, Scy’s email.
It doesn’t take long to find the email, as this email never receives personal emails. Sitting near the top is a special message from a certain DiaperKrush@gmail.com
Add me on G+, I want to video chat. See you on around 8ish? Oh, and wear something “cute” if you know what I mean. Otherwise……
Cute. I wish “cute” just meant my pink bow tie I wore to prom this year as I let my eyes drift to my closet door as it hides my secret “cuteness”.
I close everything on the computer, clear history, and gather myself as I head out of my room for family dinner.
Family dinner is a nightly event at the Duffy household. No phones, no televisions, no entertainment other than the kind conversation of close family members.
As an 18 year old, it may actually be classified as torture.
“Dexter, are you alright, you barely touched your pork chops”, my dad asks, genuine concern in his voice.
“Yeah, just, uh, last week of school jitters.”
My sister sneers as she takes offense to my reminder of the age gap between us.
“I still think it’s stupid that seniors miss a week of classes after graduation. It’s not even like you’re smart enough to miss any class time” Emma says incitingly, waiting for my retort to begin our nightly wiseass-off.
Sorry, squirt. Not tonight.
“Yeah, me dumb” I coldly say as I twirl my peas into my mashed potatoes and mom and dad shake their heads at each other.
With dinner done, I return to my well-kept corner of the house. My doors lock makes a satisfying click as I prepare myself for my video chat.
Normally, this is a great way for me to get off. I have spent countless hours on random chat rooms and video calls with strangers in various states of undress and diapers. Now though, something is different.
I go over in my head the details of what I know of DiaperKrush.
1.It’s someone I know.
Not very helpful data but it does limit who it could be. Little Falls isn’t known for its bustling population density.
2.They are probably a girl.
They are a girl or a boy with beautiful lips. Either way, I would be ok with it.
3.They want to see me wear a diaper?
My line of thinking stops with number 3. I repeat it in my head.
They want to see me in a diaper.
That’s not a bad thing.
My preset alarm interrupts my list as it reminds me that I have 15 minutes until my fateful hour. Time to dress for the occasion.
I open my closet and move my sock box to reveal a plain, cardboard box. No shipping label or markings allow it to almost blend in to the dark, hardwood floor in the back corner of my closet. Opening it up, I look over my wares with a slight smile.
Even in a stressful situation, seeing my collection still brings a small bit of pleasure to me.
4 Abena M4s, 1 Bambino Bellissimo, a pair of plastic pants and half a bag of store-bought “adult underwear” used for bulking or stuffing. Not much but enough to hold me over until I leave for college.
Looking over my choices, I decide on the adult pull-up. Being discrete with a full house seems to be a better option than my own enjoyment.
Still half-way in my closet, I quickly remove my jeans and underwear and slip up the pull-up. Even being such a low grade diaper, a small tingle of pleasure washes through me as the thin padding touches my underside. I slip my jeans back on and move my laptop over to my desk area.
Sitting in the computer chair, I stare into my webcam as I wait for the other end to pop to life. 8:05 and still nothing.
Maybe they chickened out? Maybe some merciful god took pity on me and struck them down?
I am about to look up the time for any congregations tomorrow to thank my new benevolent overlord when I receive a message.
DiaperKrush: Good evening, little man
No webcam from their end. I won’t be turning mine on yet either.
ScyDiap: Hey, glad you made it. Thought you were chickening out lol
DiaperKrush: Like if! How come no webcam? I need to make sure you’re wearing your protection.
I won’t be that easy.
ScyDiap: I have it ready, I’m just scared. You turn on yours and I’ll feel much better. Please?
DiaperKrush: giggles If you insist. And only because you asked so nicely. But you first!
My heart hits a rate that would make the Flash blush. With a press of a button, the green light of on appears on my webcam. I remove my sticky note and get a full view of my brightly blushing self.
“There I am,” I whisper harshly into my headset, trying to keep the noise down. “Now you.”
The small profile picture next to DiaperKrush grows and a loading symbol spins where her face will be.
My eyes grow wide as the webcam reveals who is on the other end; the dark room finally coming into focus to reveal who has been my cryptic admirer.
A shiny black head and dark eyes stare back coldly at me. DiaperKrush is none other than the destroyer of Alderaan himself, Darth Vader.
Darth Vader, right hand of the Emperor, sits forth, staring at me through a tiny webcam screen. His trademark breath remains seemingly absent but I’m there to replace it with my own rasping as I try to collect my jaw from the floor.
“It’s a mask” the Dark Lord of the Sith says, tapping his surprisingly feminine knuckles on the side to reveal the sound of plastic. “You can buy them like anywhere.”
I breathe a strange sigh of relief as for the first time ever, I’m thankful to not be greeted by the voice of James Earl Jones.
“Oh thank goodness,” I say louder than I wished.
The voice behind the Vader mask lets out a confusingly cute giggle at my surprise.
“And I thought you were cute before!” the now obviously girlish voice exclaims, the cheap voice alteration of the mask hiding the true identity of my new friend.
My face returns to its blush as I adjust my glasses out of nervous habit.
“Stand up,” DiaperKrush says with sudden authority. “And you better not be wearing pants”
Fuck. I undo the button of my jeans as I sit and stand to let them fall to the floor to reveal my geriatric underwear.
“Depends. That is how you want to greet me? Would that even hold a single accident?”
“I don’t have accidents” I hiss back, returning to sitting to avoid having the diaper revealed anymore.
“It was a joke. Relax” DiaperKrush ensures me “But it still won’t do. I want something better. Bambino if you have it. Unless you want a cute Vine of you saying you don’t have accidents to hit the internet?”
She was recording this. Of course she was recording this. Emma was right. Me so dumb.
I stand wordlessly, unplugging my headset in the process. I don’t even bother to put on my pants or hide my embarrassing choice of underwear as I return to my closet to redress.
“Leave those on,” I hear from behind me as I attempt to pull down the pull-up “The puffier, the better.”
I grab a Bellissimo and lay down on my bed to tape it on. The tapes seem to reverberate through my room as my paranoia takes control.
As the Bellissimo covers my member, it begins to grow in size as the familiar padding turns me on, regardless of my feelings on the situation.
I waddle over to the webcam, my diaper now in full view as I stand before my laptop.
“Ha-happy?” I barely make out, as my voice is lost in the embarrassment and sensuality of the situation.
“Very” DiaperKrush said as she slowly reached for the webcam with her right hand.
All of a sudden, a knock comes from the door.
“Dexter? Are you talking to someone?”
Emma’s voice snaps me out of my computer and my hands shoot for my nether regions in a vain attempt to hide the babyish diaper I was wearing.
“Come on, I know you don’t have friends” Emma inquired meanly.
“Uh-oh, looks like baby has a visitor” I hear DiaperKrush tease, her voice reminding me that my computer was on speaker mode now, “Should I let her know how busy we are?”
I jump past the computer chair and slam the mute button on the speakers and push the screen away from the door. The door knob jiggles as I hear Emma’s impatience growing.
“You know these locks suck, don’t make me open this myself”
My closet being wide open and my diapered butt on full display makes me reconsider how much time I trust Emma with outside the door.
I position my body behind the door as I open it a crack to catch Emma with her hair pin in hand, ready to push the lock out of place.
“Oh, were you busy? I’m bored” Emma says now with a fake innocence in her voice. “Plus you were talking with someone. You hate people. Who was that?”
“What? Talking? No?” I blurt out in rapid fire. “I was just…thinking aloud”
“I didn’t think your thoughts could form full sentences.” Emma chuckles to herself, “come on, let me in. Let’s play that Sonic game you have.”
“No!” I yelp, painfully aware that with every small push on the door by Emma causes a slight crinkle from my behind. “Um, I’m just busy. I’m on a skype call with my…girlfriend…from Minneapolis, where I’m going to college.”
“Oh? A giiiirrrllfriend?”
I let out a sigh as my quick thinking is sinking me quickly.
“Yes, my girlfriend.”
“Ok, I’ll give you alone time but I want your car tomorrow after school.” Emma says, never letting an opportunity to get something from me pass.
“Deal” I say begrudgingly.
"Yay! Alright, have fun jerking it!"Emma says as she walks away, a final jab to my already bruised ego.
Closing and re-locking my door provides a small respite in my painful night. Now to return to the cause of this.
I flip my computer around and am relieved to see I’m no longer staring into the dead, plastic eyes of Darth Vader. Now though, I am greeted by a near close-up of a diaper being worn by DiaperKrush. The diaper is white but covered in small blue teddy bears, taped nicely on to her hips. A baggy sweater covers her stomach but her bare legs reveal how she is wearing little else.
I put my headset back on just in time to catch DiaperKrush lose control.
“Uh, I don’t think I can hold it any longer. Uh, oh no” DiaperKrush says in a breathy voice as I watch the crotch of her diaper slowly discolor.
I instinctively start to rub my own crotch at the sight of the accident I just witnessed. My body is already close to release when the camera pans back up to the helmeted face.
“Oh, looks like I’ll need a change” she says in a childish manner, “I hadda accident”
My body seizes and jerks as I release into my diaper, my mind rocked by how hard the orgasm hits me.
“Mmmm. Looks like you might need a change too” the voice coos at me, “But not tonight naughty boy. I want to see you in that same diaper tomorrow.”
I recognize what she is saying but my post-orgasm brain is having trouble processing what any of the words mean.
“Tomorrow, same time. Then you can change in front of me.” DiaperKrush says, returning to her authoritative voice. “So, honor system. No changing until tomorrow. Promise?”
“I promise” my body says, still not quite in touch where my head is at this point.
“Good, see you tomorrow, boyfriend”
And with that, DiaperKrush leaves the chat. I take another moment in the afterglow as I try to piece together what happened.
My brain then slams me again with the final request of my admirer, I’m stuck in this diaper and won’t be changing for another 24 hours. And I have school tomorrow.
My eyes go wide as the realizations all wash over me at once.
Wait, did she say boyfriend!?