So-o-o Busted

By C.J.T.

 

 

The following is a work of pure fiction. Any coincidence between any of the characters and real life individuals, or places, or things is just that; coincidental.

 

I was driving back to Atlanta from yet another boring business trip to Mobile. It was one of those awesome April nights though, where everything was in full bloom, especially my hormones; and for good reason. After an hour of driving, I decided “What The Hell!”

I nervously reached toward the back seat, as if I were actually doing something wrong, fumbled with the bag of Attends that I had bought a few days before, and pulled one out. I slowly held it up to my nose, took in the fresh smell, and couldn’t wait to put it on.

 

You see, I am thirty years old, and I have had this “diaper fantasy” for a long time, so finally this past week while in Mobile, I got up the nerve to buy some adult sized diapers. FINALLY! I came across this pharmacy which wasn’t busy at all, and I did it. Nervous as hell, but I did it!

 

So I’m cruising along at about 70, and I couldn’t wait another minute to put it on. I put my truck in cruise control, unbuckled my seat belt, slid down my Umbro’s and Calvin’s, and threw them in the back seat. All I had on now was my Tennis shoes and T-shirt; I drove for a few miles just enjoying my half-naked, hard as a rock body, thinking that if it were light outside, some truckers driving by would sure be getting a show right now. Then I couldn’t wait any longer, I had to put it on. But how? Driving and putting on a damn diaper didn’t go together I thought, so I decided to tape it together first, while driving, and then to just pull it up like underwear. Being pitch black outside, I had to turn on the interior light to get it just right. But, since there were a few cars were around me, I was afraid someone driving by would see, so I wing’d it in the dark.

 

In my nervousness of buying the diapers at the pharmacy, I had picked up a large size, and since I only weigh 170, I had already discovered, after putting the first one on, that I had to tape it to nearly where the tapes almost touch one another. These things were huge, but so comfortable.

 

So there I was, driving with my knees, taping the diaper, watching the road, had to turn the radio completely off to concentrate, thankfully for cruise-control the speed wasn’t a problem, why are all these cars choosing NOW to be around me, and, oh yeah…I was shaking like a LEAF!! After what seemed like an eternity I got the diaper put together; not perfectly, but together. I reached around to the back seat, fumbling to get my suitcase open, pulled out the baby powder and began pouring it in the diaper. Since it was dark, I could only tell that some came out when I smelled it, and what a smell ! I threw the bottle on the passenger’s seat and then put the diaper at my feet. First the right foot, then the left, and I pulled it up to my knees. Then I had to maneuver to get it all the way up,

semi-snuggly. I had taped it too loose, but it still felt good. SHEW! That was a production, I thought. But it sure felt awesome now. I was in heaven!

 

All of a sudden, in my rear-view mirror, I saw flashing blue lights. I distinctly remember saying, “Oh SHIT!” I instantly reached into the back seat and luckily my hand came across the shorts. I calmly pulled them over the seat, while turning on my right-hand signal, slowing down, and pulling onto the shoulder. The spot light from the cop’s car was shining so bright that the entire interior of the truck looked like it was mid-afternoon. While he sat there in his car, I bent over and yanked my shorts up over my diaper, real quick. Even though I was now parked, my heart was still going 70 miles per hour!

After about a minute, he got out and came toward me. I rolled down the window, turned on the interior light, leaned over to the glove compartment to get my registration, when he stopped and yelled, “DON’T MOVE!” I froze and threw my hands up, thinking, oops…..probably a bad idea. I quickly yelled, “My registration is in there”, as he slowly approached my window, gun drawn!

 

“Sir, that is a good way to get a bullet through your head”, he said, and we both sort of breathed a sigh of relief. Then he dutifully asked,

“Heading back to Georgia?”

I said, “Yes Sir”.

He said, “I pulled you, because you were all over the road. Are you on some sort of medication, or under the influence of drugs or alcohol?”

I immediately and emphatically replied, “No SIR!”

He then asked, “Well then, why were you swerving all over my road? You expect me to believe you are THAT bad of a driver, even if you ARE from Georgia?”

I nervously replied, “I am just tired I guess, sir.”

He must have sensed I was nervous; he became sarcastically, yet playfully arrogant.

“So you’re just tired huh? You’re awful nervous to be so tired. You aren’t hiding anything from me now are ya?

As I shook my head, I awkwardly relied, “Oh, uh, no sir”

With a suspiciously raised eyebrow he said, “Hand me your license and registration please.”

I carefully reached toward the glove compartment, this time, while he shined his flashlight throughout my truck. And wouldn’t you know it! He stopped his flashlight RIGHT ON the Blue Package that was clearly labeled “Attends”. I pretended not to notice, and hoped he hadn’t realized what it was. I handed him my license and registration, and was shaking so bad, he HAD to suspect I was some kind of drug dealer or something. But all he asked was, “Mr. Tate, am I gunna find any priors on you when I go to run your license?” “Absolutely not sir, I am clean as a whitle,” I said.

He smirked, “We’ll just have to see about that.”

 

As he stood there studying the license, I couldn’t help but notice how fucking, red-neck, drop dead gorgeous he was, attitude or not. He couldn’t have been any more than 32 or 33, easily 6’2’’, about 190, and a hell of a chest. His badge read “C. Cunningham.”

I snickered at my poorly timed, yet perfectly twisted thought of

“I’d sure like to Cun his Ham.”

“He peered up from his clipboard, eyebrows raised, and asked, “Somethin’ funny?”

I stammered again, “oh, uh, no sir…”, then in yet another moment of half-awkwardness, and half-feeling the need to say something else, I continued, “um, so, uh, what does the “C” stand for?”

He looked down at his badge where I was looking, as he moved his right hand up to it, holding it between his thumb and middle finger, and sarcastically asked, “You mean THIS C?”

I said, “Yeah, what’s it stand for?”

In his most arrogant moment yet, he slowly and sarcastically said,

“This C stands-for-OFF-I-CER, and that’s how you’ll address me, MIS-ter Tate. And by the way, you’re bein’ awful cocky for somebody starin’ down the barrel of a reckless driving charge.”

“Sorry,” I said, as I shrugged my shoulders. Then, he flashed a quick smile and a wink.

He wasn’t an ass at all, he was just fucking with me. No wait, he wasn’t just fucking with me, he’s teasing with me. This was going to turn interesting, I thought.

 

Then, with the same funny sarcasm he said, “Well, Mr. Charles Jackson Tate of

Atlanta, Georgia, who can’t drive on MY highway worth a crap…sit tight so I can run your plates and license.” He cracked a sheepish grin and proceeded toward his car. I sat still, except for the involuntary shaking, or nervous excitement, whatever it’s called.

 

After about 3 or 4 minutes, his door opened and here he came again.

With a smug, almost jovial, cocky grin on his face he said, “Well Charles”, I cut him off, “Everybody calls me C.J., Off-i-cer Cunningham.” I figured, if he could fuck with me, then I’d fuck with him. He was half-amused by my interruption, as he continued, “Well C.J., license and everything checks out o.k., but…”, he was all smiles at this point as he stopped what he was saying.

“But what?” I asked, laughingly suspicious.

“I need to ask your cooperation in a field sobriety test, given that I did notice you all over my road, for more than a mile.”

I nervously laughed and asked, “Does this mean I have to get out of the truck?”

With an even bigger, almost bursting grin on his face, he said “Absolutely. And might I add, I am looking forward to seeing you pass with flying colors.”

Again laughing nervously, I said, “I’ll bet you are.”

I hesitated, and he playfully said, “Now C.J., don’t make me have to remove you from that vehicle. Come on, let’s go,” as he stepped back and motioned for me to open the door.

 

I opened the door slowly, while he stood toward the front of my truck facing me, watching my every move, grinning ear to ear, chomping on his gum, shoulders perfectly square, hands firmly on his belt, thumbs tucked in, rocking back and forth on his heels, and that cocky smile…..

 

Standing now on the ground, with only the opened door dividing us, I then asked, “Now what?” He directed me toward the back of my truck onto the right of the road’s shoulder.

I shut the door and quickly walked toward the roadside; he followed.

 

I could hear the rustling while I walked…it sounded to me like it could be heard a mile away, not to mention the fact that it was loose and I was sure, bulking out from my Umbro’s.

 

When I got to the rear of the truck he had me turn, facing him. When I turned, he was nearly busting himself trying not to laugh, pretending to clear his throat and cover his mouth at the same time to conceal the laugh. He then shook it off and became serious again for a second, walking up to me, still chomping on that gum. He shined his flashlight into my eyes, asked me to look straight ahead, then right, then left. As I did, he got inches away from me. I was a combination of fear and excitement.

Inches from my face, he could no longer hold it in. He doubled over in laughter, dropping the pretense of the sobriety test and his flashlight to his side, and blurted out, “C.J., no offense, but you smell like you just fell into a drum of baby powder.” He could barely finish his sentence he was giggling so hard.

That’s when he said, almost like the punch-line to a joke, “Does your mommy know you are out this late?”

I jokingly stammered, “Huh? What do you mean?”

He said, “Aw, come on….a healthy thirty year-old male, wearing pampers…I mean, that IS what you have on under your shorts ain’t it? Sure looks like it. Sure smells like it. Sure does sound like it!”

Suddenly I no longer had to guess if he knew. HE KNEW! Embarrassed now, all I could come up with was, “No. What do you mean?” I never have played stupid too well.

 

He then walked up to me again, leaning right against me, while I leaned more and more backwards, defiantly looking me in the eye and demanded, “Then drop your shorts and prove it, tough guy.”

Pissed off and as just a reaction, I shoved him away from me, unfortunately, giving him ample excuse to use force. He regained his balance quickly, laughed, and lunged toward me saying, “Oh, I’m gunna enjoy this one.” As fit as I am, he still had me to the ground in a second.

Firmly in control of me, and laughing, he said, “allow me!”

Then in one motion, he lifted my legs with one hand and yanked off my shorts with the other, exposing what was underneath.

Half-cocky and half-embarrassed, I popped off and said, “You’re gunna pay for this man. I’ll have your fuckin’ badge.”

Smugly and casually, he simply said, “My, My, Look at the little baby wearin’ pampers! I doubt I have to worry about you reporting this one, Georgia boy!”

 

I was speechless; beyond embarrassment. This was humiliation times 10, I thought.

 

“Did all this excitement cause you to pee-pee Georgia Boy?” He wasn’t holding anything back. I was thoroughly humiliated and he was going for the kill.

“Get up,” he said disgustedly, but jokingly, as he grabbed my arm and pulled me to my feet. Then he whispered, “I am gunna have some real fun with you tonight.”

 

He picked up my shorts with one hand, held one arm behind my back, and guided me toward the back door of his cruiser. He opened the passenger door and casually tossed my shorts into the seat, saying, “You obviously won’t be needing those, will ya?” Then he opened the back door and pushed me in. “Stay put, I’ll be right back”.

 

He went up to the right side of my truck, opened the door, hopped in, and then emerged about 30 seconds later, looking like the cat that ate the bird. In his right hand, the package of Attends. In his left, the bottle of baby powder, and again with that cocky, gorgeous grin on his face. He opened the cruiser’s passenger door again, threw them on the seat, and shut the door. Then he opened my door, and without saying a word, knelt down on my seat, looked me square in the eyes, and reached between my legs, feeling my diaper.

His entire attitude changed suddenly, and with a dead-serious look on his face, he said, “Still dry? I can’t wait to change you Hot Shot. And there’s still about 15 left in that diaper bag of yours, or should I say MINE? You’ve got a lot of pissin’ to do big boy! Hope you don’t have to be back to Atlanta anytime soon.”

 

 

….to be continued