This story is intended exclusively for mature audiences. All characters depicted are fictional and over the age of 18. By continuing to read, you confirm that you are at least 18 years old and consent to viewing sexually explicit content that may be offensive to some individuals._ I wrote this story as a request from a friend, who I hope enjoys it very much <3 Please note, this is a considerable departure from my usual writing style. It's far more narratively driven, and is much longer than my typical output as a result. Also, it deals with themes involving divorce and legal proceedings, both of which are topics I know virtually nothing about. I did a fair bit of research before and while writing this story, but I do not claim for any part of this story to accurately represent the way the law works in reality. With that in mind, if you can suspend your disbelief, please continue reading at your own discretion. _ Michael had been an attorney for twelve years. He had specialized in divorce law for seven of those years, and it was something he considered himself quite excellent at. In his time as a divorce attorney, he had met all kinds of people with all kinds of problems. He had helped his clients settle various disputes, whether they were about child custody, the division of assets, or simply ensuring all paperwork was filed with precision and due diligence. Michael had seen everything from spoiled housewives to abusive husbands, but he had never met anyone quite like Mr. Reynolds. From the moment Mr. Reynolds walked into his office, Michael knew there was something off about him. He always walked with his shoulders slumped, his posture slouched. Yet he had this air about him, as if the very ground he stood upon or the air he breathed could not possibly be good enough for him. He sauntered into the office with a lazy confidence that almost made Michael jealous, in a way. Michael had never been particularly overconfident. It took him many years of studying and hard work to get where he was, and to build that sense of assuredness in himself. Meanwhile, Mr. Reynolds, a man who could not hold down a job, and who had no real life skills to speak of, boasted such a snide sense of self as to be almost alluring, in a perplexingly off-putting way. At once, Michael could not understand how any woman could fall for a man like Mr. Reynolds, and at the same time, it seemed almost inevitable that no woman could be impervious to his effortless charm, co*cky smile, and well-cut chin. Michael hated to have to stand up from his desk to shake the man’s hand, but he did it with a well-practiced fake smile on his face. He did not have to like all his clients, so long as he did a good job for them. That would be enough. He would get paid and never have to worry about this particular man ever again. The moment Michael’s hand left the handshake, he wanted to wipe it off on a nearby napkin. He resisted the urge to do so. “Good morning, Mr. Reynolds. It’s nice to meet you, though I wish it could be under better circ*mstances. I know we discussed the basics of your case on the phone, but why don’t you take a seat, and we can go over everything in finer detail?” Michael gestured to the chair opposite him, and Mr. Reynolds took the seat. “Is there anything I can get for you? Water? Coffee?” Michael asked. “No thanks, I’m good. I’d like to get this over with as fast as possible, if that’s alright. No offense, of course. I just want to put all of this behind me as soon as I can.” What a prick, Michael thought. “I understand, and there’s no offense taken. Divorce is always difficult, even when it’s a mutual decision. I promise not to keep you here any longer than is absolutely necessary for the case. Now, I understand you wish to divorce your wife, and on the phone, you cited her extramarital activities as the primary reason. You have a compelling case, and the judge almost always sides with the party that was cheated on.” “She didn’t cheat on me,” Mr. Reynolds said. “Oh?” Michael raised an eyebrow. It was understandable for a client to want to save face, but Mr. Reynolds had already mentioned an affair. “Perhaps I misunderstood, then. Could you please elaborate?” “She never cheated on me. She wouldn’t do that. She did… other things. Things I honestly don’t even want to discuss, they’re so disgusting.” “I understand, Mr. Reynolds, but as your attorney, it’s pertinent that I hear all details of the situation, so that I can create the best case for you if we can’t reach an agreement and have to go to court. So please, tell me, and I promise the information won’t leave this room.” “Well, it’s already left the room. It’s all over the internet. That’s kind of the problem. And I mean, once I found out, I had to tell my family and friends. And I gave her parents a call too, since I figured they ought to know.” “So your wife was posting pictures online, then?” Not an affair, but not an unusual reason to want to end a relationship, either, even if Michael thought the reasoning was rather petty. “Well, that’s not unheard of. I’ve dealt with cases like that before.” “Not just pictures. She wasn’t naked or anything. She was wearing… I don’t know, diapers, I guess.” In general, Michael tried his best to keep his composure. He thought it best that his clients see him as stable and reliable, someone they could count on, even when things got difficult. There were some things, though, that caught him so off guard he could not help but raise an eyebrow or co*ck his head in response. Mr. Reynolds must have seen right through that. “Yeah, I know, it’s f*cking weird,” he continued. “Well, I’m not here to make judgments, but it’s certainly unusual. Does your wife have issues with making it to the bathroom on time or something along those lines?” “No, not at all. She just wears them because she likes them. It’s like her thing. I think it’s f*cking gross, and when she told me about it, I told her it needed to stop, or I would leave her. We’ve been together six years, and here it turns out she’s been doing it in secret the whole time, and uploading pictures of herself wearing them, sucking on pacifiers, and drinking from baby bottles for creeps on the internet to get off to.” For the first time, Michael found himself picturing what a grown woman would look like wearing a diaper and suckling on a baby bottle. A strange image, and one he could certainly understand finding… off-putting, to say the least. Then, he remembered what Mr. Reynolds had said about telling their friends and family. “And you told her family about this? Like you called or texted them?” “Yep, and I showed them the pictures, too. They were mortified. Especially her parents. Her sister tried to defend her, but I mean, come on, there’s no defense for something like that. It’s just creepy, and honestly, I think she needs some kind of mental help. But I’m not going to be around while she figures that out. I have better things to do.” Every time Mr. Reynolds opened his mouth, Michael found his fist twitching. It had been a long time since he hit someone, and he certainly was not about to hit a client. God, the urge was there, though. Telling his family and friends was one thing. Mr. Reynolds deserved some support, some people to confide in. But telling his wife’s family, even her parents, that was just… petty, and uncalled for. She was already going through a divorce, she did not need the added humiliation on top of that. Michael sighed. “Well, I suppose if she was posting pictures of herself online, it was going to get back to them eventually.” “I doubt it. She was good at hiding it. She never posted her face or anything, or said anything about where we live. But she used the house to take all her pictures. You can see her office in like half of them, or even the living room sometimes when I was out at the bar with my friends.” “Your wife works from home, right?” “Yeah, ever since the pandemic. It used to just be me there while she was at work, but now she’s always around. And this whole time, I thought she was in there working, but really she was pissing and sh*tting in diapers and uploading evidence of it online.” “Has she been in there working? Is money still coming through?” “Yeah, I guess so. I mean, we pay our bills on time and stuff.” “Gotcha. And you’re unemployed, correct?” “Yeah, but so what? What are you trying to say?” That you’re an asshole. “Nothing, Mr. Reynolds. I’m just trying to gather all the information. These are the kinds of questions the judge will ask. Now, as I’m sure you’re aware, you will receive half of your collective assets, despite not having a job. That’s how the law works here, and there isn’t much she or her lawyer can do to argue that point. But the main point of contention is the house itself, correct?” “Yeah, that’s right.” Mr. Reynolds leaned back in his chair, clearly growing tired of the conversation already. It was as if the very act of having to explain himself or his justifications was worthless in his mind, as if Michael, and the whole world, in fact, should already understand his motivations and agree with them. “She wants to keep the house,” he continued. “Says she shouldn’t have to sell it and divide the assets. But we were never rich. That’s the bulk of our assets right there, and she wants to keep it all to herself. She expects me to move, of course. Meanwhile, she gets to stay in the home that used to be ours.” It was a fairly open and shut case. Michael would argue that their home, as an asset to both of them and their union, ought to be sold and divided evenly amongst them, as was typical of the law. Mrs. Reynolds would have to find new lodging, but most judges would see that as reasonable, especially considering her unusual behaviors. Still, there were some potential complications. “Aside from just working in the home, does she earn money from the pictures she uploads online?” Mr. Reynolds seemed surprised, as if he hadn’t thought the information relevant. “Yeah. She has an account where people pay her to act like a baby and stuff. She’s sick, like I said. Honestly, if you can make the judge order her to use her half of the money to seek therapy, I think that would be a good idea.” Ignoring the ignorant part about him making the judge do anything, that information added an extra wrinkle to things. “Her attorney will likely argue that, in addition to the emotional damage selling the home could cause, she is using it as a place of work not just for her regular career, but also for a small business.” “Small business? That’s ridiculous. She’s making creepy diaper p*rn, not running a legitimate business. And what about my emotional damage? Of having to see my wife engage in that kind of behavior? In having to end a long-term relationship and leave my home just to get away from that kind of toxicity?” “That’s exactly the argument I’ll make on your behalf,” Michael said. “I’m just preparing you for what you’ll probably hear from their side. Although to be honest, it might be hard for her to find someone to take her case. Her behaviors are indeed unusual, and there’s almost no one who would embarrass themselves by trying to defend her.” “So you’re saying we’ve got this in the bag?” “Definitely. This is one of the more straightforward cases I’ve taken on, to be honest with you. I’ll draw up some paperwork for you to sign, and then we can get you out of her and back to your… important business.” Michael did as he said he would. He drew up the paperwork, handled all the formalities and the legal side of things, and had Mr. Reynolds sign away. Michael did so the whole time through gritted teeth, but a job was a job, and a client was a client. Even if he didn’t like Mr. Reynolds, even if he outright found him detestable, he could not deny that his wife’s behavior was strange. There was no real chance of losing the case. But that night, after Michael had returned home and found himself wide awake in bed, unable to drift off, his curiosity got the better of him. He had Mr. Reynolds give him the name of his wife’s account, so that he could check it out for evidence if he needed to. He told himself that was what he was doing, but deep down, he knew he just had to see it for himself. A grown woman, dressing up and acting like a baby. The thought would not leave his mind. So he made his way to the site in question and found her page. There she was. A beautiful woman, with the most gorgeous hourglass figure, and stunning blonde hair. And there, too, was the diaper wrapped around her hips. It was mostly white, but covered in childish patterns depicting cartoon animal characters who were also wearing diapers. Judging by the yellow tint of the garment, the diaper was most definitely wet, as well. Michael did not have kids. He had never even changed a diaper, in fact. Yet he could tell this woman most definitely needed a change just from one look. Her diaper was practically swollen to the brink of exploding, and in one video, she was even grinding away at it, pressing herself against a large, pink stuffed unicorn plushy. Part of him found the whole thing immensely off-putting, as he would have expected. Another part of him, though, couldn’t look away. Something about the diaper, the way it melded over her skin, the way the tapes fit so snuggly on her hips and waist, seemed… right. There was no other word for it. He was used to beautiful women wearing sets of lacy lingerie, looking stunning in them. But when he tried to picture Mrs. Reynolds in that kind of underwear, it just did not feel appropriate. Something about her, something he could not quite place, belonged in those diapers, as if they were made for her. She looked perfect in them. Michael found himself even thinking there was no way she could look better than she did in those videos, the diaper perfectly hugging her curves, her lips so tantalizing as they caressed the silicone nipple of the baby bottle. The moment the thought crossed his mind, Michael threw his phone down on the other side of the bed. What was he thinking? Clearly, he was not in his right state of mind. This case was getting to him, and he needed to sleep. He chalked his behavior up to a strange curiosity, and a desire to understand why any grown woman would act in such a way. Then, he dismissed his continues desire to go back to the page and look again, before finally drifting off to sleep. _ Part 2Part 3 (Final)
