“So, you can talk!” The girl crossed her legs, sitting Indian style on the table. “I saw your dolls for the raffle. They’re really pretty. Did they really come from a thrift store?”

Lucas dropped his gaze and nodded his head in answer. The rumble in his tummy sank lower. He couldn’t shake the feeling he knew her from somewhere. Maybe they met as children, before she moved away? Childhood classmates who never played together?

“Seriously. They’re amazing. You really got talent. Plan on doing that for a living? You could make a fortune.” Her voice perked up in enthusiasm.

“I-it’s j-just…a.h-hobby.” He cringed, shifting position in his wheelchair. His diaper crinkled loudly. Another snap popped open, showing off more of his wet diaper. The thick, damp padding gave him some extra cushion on his wheelchair seat. He blushed at the noise of his diaper, not realizing his diaper was on display. He tugged down Fiji’s dress to hide her diaper.

He knew it was impossible to hide the bulk and noise of his ginormous diapers, but the sleeper still covered the diaper itself. Even with seeing the bulge and hearing the rustling crinkles, most people didn’t realize he was diapered. Seeing Fiji’s diaper might help the girl put two and two together….but it was Halloween. She’d just assume diapers were part of his big baby costume. Rosie had assured him everyone would assume that.

It was bad enough the girl knew he liked to make dolls. Doll-making, diaper pissing pussy boy. The thought of her judgement made his heart thump. He burned in humiliation. His cheeks reddened. Horror washed over him at the thought of her knowing how much he loved his diapers, his baby paraphenalia…making dolls…

Youtube intimidated him too much to make doll videos, but his instagram was full of followers. His dolls sold online for a couple hundred dollars apiece. He’d done several private, custom commissions for a thousand dollars a piece. He easily got lost in his art when he made or refurbished a doll. Just a little varnish, sealant, water color pencils, pastels, some acrylic paint for the face up…designing an outfit, cutting out the patterns for the cloth, sewing it all together…

“I bet you made your bear’s costume. That’s much nicer than the kiddie crap at Build-A-Buddy.”

“I-it’s e-easy…” Lucas squirmed. The diaper’s rustling filled the quiet booth. The murmurs of passersby seemed miles away. It was just Rosie’s new friend, Lucas, and Fiji. He shifted Fiji, and her baby doll diaper rustled too. He wanted to tell her his bear’s name, but she’d probably think that was stupid. Childish. Maybe Rosie had told her new friend jokes about her big baby cousin and his bear.

“H-how do yew know Wosie?” The rubber nipple in his mouth slurred his words into a toddler’s lisp. The words tumbled out of his mouth and he wanted to slap himself as soon as he realized what he’d said. He sucked hard on his paci and squeezed Fiji tight. Her skirt flipped up, putting her white diaper on display for all to see. His pulse sped up and he could feel a cold sweat coming on.

“Oh, shit. How incredibly rude of me. Here I am, carrying on, and I never introduced myself. My mother, God rest her soul, would be so ashamed of my horrible manners.” The girl giggled, not sounding sorry at all.

“Name’s Prudence Piper. Just call me Pru.” White, sharp looking teeth flashed in a winning grin. She held a hand out. When he didn’t move, her hand dropped. “Guess not, huh?”

Lucas gasped at that name. His pacifier started to slip; he bit down on the rubber nipple before it fell out of his mouth. He stared at her with wide eyes like a deer caught unexpectedly in headlights. He knew that name well. Prudence Piper was a local legend. A historical figure he greatly admired. The Prohibition bootlegger girl who allegedly ran off with Al Capone. The wild child who set sleepy little Newton on fire. According to a few old newspapers, quite literally.