Late Night at the Grease Spoon

Late Night at the Grease SpoonTaken from the chiller:

The ABDL Horror Book

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here is a story about how to survive a sticky situation that just went horribly wrong.

Warning:  This is a bit dark.  It’s not a pure and innocent tale.


Late Night at the Grease Spoon

Joy looked up through the front windshield, yawning as she saw the full moon.  Speeding down the road, she nibbled on her lower lip.  Neither yawning nor a full moon were good signs.  The full moon always brought the crazies out late at night and yawning meant she was tired.  But there would be no sleep for her any time soon and where she was headed, there would be no way to avoid the late night crowd.

Joy was a graveyard shift waitress at the 24-hour Grease Spoon Diner at the edge of town.  It was actually her second job, a bit of a necessity to make ends meet. 

She remembered when she set out to bold go where she wanted to in life, but she had no idea that every conceivable obstacle would get in her way – from education to money to love.  But she made the best of things as she could, working as a billing clerk for a lawyer from 3pm-11pm each day.  Then she would jump in her car and speed her way to the dinner for her 11:30 pm – 7am shift.  Afterwards, she always went directly home, took a shower and collapsed in bed – only to wake up at noon and start all over again the next day.

On particular nights, she would have to change into her waitressing outfit in the car on the way there.  The owner of the diner was a stickler for people showing up on time and Joy couldn’t risk being fired.  So, she tempted fate each night and made the 40-minute trip from the office to the diner in 25 minutes, stripping down in the car when she came to a red light.  But Joy certainly lived up to her name and as an eternal optimist, she thought of where she would be in life when she could finally look back on her diner days and laugh.

With so much working, however, Joy didn’t have the ability to meet very many people and though she had been living this double just-over-broke lifestyle for six months, the only interaction she had with anyone was with the late night diner patrons, a rowdy crowd that only got rowdier by 3 am when they all poured in from the bars.  And while it was good late night business for the diner, her drunken customers hardly tipped her anything.  So, she struggled even more so.  But thus far, she had come out alright each month.

At the first red light, she unzipped the back of her business skirt, sliding it down her legs as she kicked her black heels off.  Taking hold of the side of her nylons, she began to slide them down her legs as well when the light suddenly turned green.  As if the person in the car behind her was in a bigger hurry than she was, a blaring car horn forced her to abandon her undressing and start to drive.  Being literally caught with her pants down, she grunted in frustration.  Maybe if she wasn’t expected to wear such difficult layers to take off in a rush, this all wouldn’t be so bad.  Maybe if she had been paid a little more money by her lawyer boss, she wouldn’t be driving to a second job at breakneck speed while stripping down in the first place.

But then again, maybe this was a test, intended to make her appreciate what she had.  And that was Joy, the little optimist who could.  Pulling up to the next red light, she put the car in park reached down to the front floor, grabbing and tossing her skirt and heels into the back seat.  Then she lifted her feet up and put them on the top of the steering wheel as she parted her thighs, bowing them outward.  Keeping an eye on the red light this time, she grabbed ahold of the top of the nylons and kept pulling them down her legs, fighting with them until they finally came off her feet.  Rolling her eyes, she put her legs back down and sat up straight, slamming on the accelerator at the moment the light turned green and speeding off while looking in her rearview mirror at Mr. Impatient BMW behind her.

She began to unbutton her blouse, reaching into the backseat to grab the small plastic bag she kept her waitress outfit in, a pink 1950’s throwback with such disgustingly adorable lacy hems and collar that it made her sick to even look at it.  Pulling up to the next red light, she slid her blouse off her shoulders and reached into the plastic back for the white ankle socks that would soothe her aching feet through the night.  Putting each foot into her pre-tied white sneakers, she reached into the back for the pink waitressing outfit when Mr. Impatient BMW honked his horn behind her.  She looked up at the newly-turned green light and grunted again as she slammed on the gas.

Now speeding down the highway in her bra, panties and sneakers, she smiled at the thought of how she got herself into such predicaments as this.  But perhaps if she forewent putting the waitress outfit on, she might get better tips, just as she was then.  Beginning to unfold the pink outfit to quickly slide it underneath her at the next light, she thought about how much she truly hated The Grease Spoon Diner.  And this thought in her mind was so consuming that as she pulled up to the next red light in her nightly string of stops-n-goes on the way, she slid the pink outfit underneath her on the seat but was completely unaware of Mr. Impatient BMW pulling up alongside her in the next lane over.

Finally sensing a car next to her she slowly turned her head to see three guys in the BMW.  First, there was Mr. Impatient himself, a rather handsome guy with short hair, a scruffy face and piercing dark eyes.  Sitting next to him in the front passenger’s seat was a curly-haired scrawny-looking fella in a flannel shirt, a John Deere hat and he was sporting a fat lower lip as he lifted an empty coke bottle to spit his tobacco juice in it.  And in the backseat was the jock of the group, a muscle-bound guy with no real compelling expression on his face.

Joy looked straight ahead through the windshield, trying not to look back at them again.  But they were definitely looking her way, seeing that she was wearing nothing but her unmentionables.  Oh, how embarrassing, how humiliating.  And the only thing that would mortified her worse would’ve been if they had seen what she kept in a small knapsack under her front passenger’s seat.

Despite their honking and whistling at her, Joy kept her eyes straight ahead, waiting for the light to turn green.  But even as she was only a few miles from the diner, there were several more red lights to go … unless … she slammed on the gas and sped up to beat them all before they turned red.

Raising her left eyebrow at the idea, a second thought came to mind as well – one that just might be a bit naughty.  This Tom, Dick and Harry trio in the car next to her were going to tail her the whole way, if she didn’t do something about it.  And since she knew she wouldn’t have any fun at work that night, she decided she was going to have a little fun right then and there.  Slowly turning her head towards them, she gave Mr. Impatient a wink with a few battings of her eyelashes to follow.  And, so she would get the jump on them when the light turned green, she decided to give them what they wanted – a little show.  In reality, it would be the perfect distraction. 

Slowly trailing her fingernails up her left arm to her shoulder, she smile gently and sweetly as she slid her thumb under her bra strap, lifting it up slowly and lowering it down her arm to her bicep.  Giving them innocent puppy dog eyes, she lowered the bra strap off her right shoulder in the same manner, selling a fake pout with her lower lip as she did her ‘best’ to keep the cups of her bra from falling down.  Out of the corner of her right eye, she saw the opposing traffic light turn from green to yellow.  And with an added bit of shock right before she slammed on the gas, she picked up her pacifier from the center console, sticking out her tongue and placing the rubber nipple on it before taking the pacifier between her lips.

Smiling brightly and sweetly behind the pacifier, she winked at the boys and waved by-bye to them as she slammed on the gas the very second that light turned green.

Her wheels spun out to start, but she eventually picked up a lot of speed quickly.  The rush of driving fast was one of those bits of excitement that were absent from her involuntary workaholic life.  And encounters like the one she just had with that testosterone trio back at the light could really stand to duplicate themselves for her a bit more often.

Getting to the diner, she pulled around back and parked in one of the employee spaces.  And with five minutes to go, she decided to relive how much fun it was to flirt without caution.  She leaned back on her seat and slinked down. A bit surprised at the fact that she put the pacifier in her mouth, she reveled in how good her fantasies made her feel.  It was a long shot that her fantasies could ever replace her reality, but, being the eternal optimist, she always kept her fingers crossed that someday, somehow, a man would walk into her life out of the crystal clear blue, sweep her off her feet and indulge her age play dreams.

Sitting up in her seat with the arrival of another naughty thought, she leaned over and reached under the front passenger’s seat – picking up the small knapsack and taking out one of the diapers she kept stocked inside it.  The Daddy of her dreams would never appear magically until she indulged in the dreams herself.  And it had been a while since she diapered up for a night shift of serving chicken with waffles and cream-chipped beef.  Still fluttering inside from her red light show down, she decided tonight she would indulge in it all.

Buttoning up the front of her pink waitress outfit and taking a moment when she got out of her car to fidget out the initial and loudest crinkles of her diaper before going into the diner, Joy had no idea how truthful her indulgence of fantasy would become before she clocked out to go home. Nor did she know the horrors that awaited her inside The Grease Spoon Diner.

“Have a good night, Joy,” Stacey, the second shift waitress said as she bolted out of the diner, the minute Joy appeared to the front of the restaurant.

“I’ll try,” Joy replied as they both shared knowing grins of how miserable working there could be.

Those annoying little bells jingled as Joy opened the front door, walking up into the front vestibule before opening the second set of front door to hear another set of annoying bells.  She grunted at the sound of them, wishing she could tear them down and smash them all. As the door closed behind her she closed her eyes and took in a deep breath.  This was no way to start her shift.  If she was going to spend the whole night in a bad mood, she might as well just go home.  Having the ability to find a second job was a blessing, especially with the struggling economy putting people out of work, left and right.  She reminded herself she needed to be grateful for what she had, not what she wanted.

“Rough night?” she heard a familiar voice say from the first booth to the right.

Walking over to the booth, she smiled, taking a seat opposite Pierce, one of the night time regulars.  He was an attractive guy, very soft spoken and always polite.  He worked second shift at Gobbler’s Knob Dairy, a local company that made tea, milk and ice cream.  And most nights he stopped at the diner to get something to eat before he went home.  But by the time Joy got there to start her graveyard waitressing, he was usually finishing up his nightly meal of steak and eggs.

“Don’t you ever wanna order something different?” Joy asked him with a laugh.

“Nope,” he said, shoveling in the last of the eggs on his plate.  “They were actually cooked a bit differently tonight than normal.”

“Why?” Joy asked, perplexed.  “What?  Did Mike add to many meat rubs to them?”

“Mike called in sick.  Stacey made them,” Pierce answered.

“Mike called in sick?” Joy asked, looking to the kitchen behind the front counter.  “Oh my God.  And I bet nobody’s coming in to replace him.”

“Some things never change,” Pierce said, finishing up his coffee.  “If it’s any conciliation, Stacey did a better job of cooking than Mike has ever done.  And I know you’ll do a better job, too.”

“Thanks,” Joy said grimly as she got up from the booth.

“Joy, do something for me,” he said, standing up.  “I want you to think about the one thing in this world you want more than anything else.  Focus on what that one thing is all night as you’re here.  And the next time I see you, I want you to tell me what that one thing is.”

“Okay …” she said confused as she watched him walk to the bathroom.  “Why?”

“Because you deserve whatever it is,” he said, turning around to face her.  “For someone who can make everyone smile no matter what the circumstances are, it’s high-time that smile gets put back on your face.  It can be difficult to see beyond the present sometimes, but you should never stop looking that way.”

And Joy smiled at him.

“That a girl,” Pierce said, winking at her before heading to the bathroom.

She watched him walk into the bathroom and thought about what he said.  He was right.  There were a lot of good things that she did at that diner and a lot of people whom she made happy.  That really should make her happy, too.  Though they were small, they were still moments that wouldn’t have happened otherwise.

As he closed the bathroom door behind him, Joy quickly leaned in and sniffed his coat as it hung on the hook at the end of his booth.  She loved his scent and often wanted to ask him what it was.  She knew it wasn’t just a cologne, but a mixture of other scents as well.  She wished she could bottle it and sell it, simply calling it Pierce.  Overnight, she’d be a millionaire.  She was sure of this.

Making her way back to the kitchen, she focused on the night ahead.  Her nightshift was usually just she and a cook, for lack of business – save for the drunks at 3 am who were headed home from the bars.  But with Mike calling in sick, her night wouldn’t ever get slow as shoe would have to cook the food as well as wait on the tables as well as do the nightly cleaning in the kitchen – a daunting challenge in itself.

Thank God she got a chance to talk with Pierce for a little cheering, but also for a few moments of tingling in all the right places – not just from him or his scent but from the naughtiness of being in a diaper and fantasizing about Pierce in ways she could never admit.

Making her way to the manager’s desk in the back, she thought she’d at least make another attempt to find a cook who could come in before she succumbed to cooking herself.  But as she thumbed through the employees’ records to find phone numbers, her mind was already pre-occupied with other things – not for how she was going to make it through the night should the diner suddenly get unusually busy, but rather, for an answer to Pierce’s question.  Surprisingly, for as much as Joy thought about the things she didn’t have, she had trouble coming up with the single greatest one.  The obvious answer was finding that man who would sweep her off her feet.  But it certainly couldn’t be just that.  The purpose of her life wasn’t sole comprised of finding him.  She had many interests, many things she enjoyed doing and many things she still wanted to do. 

Smirking to herself, she marveled over how it wasn’t easy to honestly answer his question.  Unfortunately, her time to find a replacement cook came to a sudden end as she heard the irritating little door bells chiming out front.  Standing up, she took one step forward but then stopped, realizing that sitting in a desk for just a few minutes had bunched up her diaper.  And now she had an oddly shaped bottom … or so it appeared through the back of her skirt.

“Hello?” she heard an unfamiliar voice call from the front.

“I’ll be right out,” she called to them as she pulled up the bottom half of her waitressing outfit to re-situate the diaper.  “Find a booth.  I’ll be right there.”

Lowering her skirt back into place, she smiled a bit, thinking of how she could still have a little fun on this night by simply wearing a diaper.  And as she made her way out front, she thought how lucky she would be to not have to use the restroom – especially since she might not get a chance to, if the diner got busy.  But when she got out front, she froze in horror, seeing that the Tom, Dick and Harry in that BMW from the red lights had walked in.

If she had drunk anything recently, she certainly would’ve wet herself just then.

“Well, how about that?” the guy who drove the BMW said as he grinned at her.  “If it isn’t the strip-teasing girl who drove away …”

Joy didn’t know what to do or what to say, but she instantly knew something was going to go terribly wrong.  For a brief moment, she thought about calling the police as the trio sat in the first booth on the right.  But even if she had called the police, what would she have told them?  These guys had done anything wrong and making a cop drive to the diner was only going to encourage these guys to tail her home later.  They must’ve followed her.  This was too coincidentally to truly be coincidence.

Straightening herself up, she grabbed three menus from behind the counter and started walking over to them.  But the crinkles under her skirt suddenly became deafeningly loud to her and she slowed her steps, trying to keep them quiet.  In the process of doing so, she began to unintentionally move in a flirtatious way … or at least she thought they would see it that way.  Why wouldn’t they?  After all, she did lower her bra straps, deliberately flirting with them while racing them.

Standing in front of them, she smiled politely, placing two menus in front of the jock and the flannel shirt guy who had taken seats on either end of the booth.  Then she leaned over the table to place the third menu in front of Mr. Impatient who was sitting against the window.  But when she leaned over the table, she made an obvious crinkling noise, freezing in place for a moment as she swallowed the lump in her throat before slowly standing back up with another unfortunate crinkle.

“What can I get you guys to drink?” she asked cheerfully, trying not to allow any shakiness to come through in her voice.

“Just bring a pot of coffee,” Mr. Impatient said with a devilish grin.  “High octane.”

She knew right away, that they would be staring at her bottom as she walked back behind the counter.  They would’ve done that anyway, but the fact that she was diapered only made the thought of it that much more unnerving.  In any other circumstance, she might’ve enjoyed a few tingles in the right places, but there was something about these guys that frightened her.

“Cream, sugar?” she asked, cheerfully.

“Sweetheart,” the flannel shirt guy said with a disgustingly low timbre.  “I hardly know you.  But I bet you would cream all over yourself if you spent the night with me.”

Joy’s skin crawled at his comment and her face turned red, not with embarrassment but with a little discomfort.  Then she turned and began her slow pace walk, trying again to keep the crinkle at a minimum.

“You are really pathetic,” Mr. Impatient said to the flannel shirt guy.  “Is that really how you hit on a girl?”

“Of course it is,” the jock said, looking at the flannel shirt guy as well.  “He’s been that way since college.  And he hasn’t changed.”

“Damn right, I ain’t changed,” the flannel shirt guy said with a contented smile as he sat back and put both of his hands behind his head.  “You can’t improve on perfection.”

“Yeah, and you also can’t fix stupid,” Mr. Impatient added.

Behind the counter, Joy kept her chin lowered as she filled the pot of coffee, but she kept quickly glancing over at the guys.  She contemplated taking the diaper.  It was making the situation worse and would only give them fuel for banter, should they figure it out.  But in the same thought, she decided that these guys weren’t going to ruin her night or her fun or her fantasies.  And her diaper was going to stay on.

If she knew then what was going to happen, she not only would’ve taken the diaper off but she would’ve also called the police.  But despite the risks that were present and obvious, she had no way of knowing anything would happen.  And likely, her worst nightmares wouldn’t ever have included her night ahead.

Walking back around the counter and headed to their table with the pot of coffee, she perfected her slow walk to be as uninviting of flirting as possible, though she knew these guys, like friends since college from their discussions, wouldn’t need much encouragement to be disgusting and rude.

Setting the saucer of creamers down in the middle of the table, she dropped a handful of sugar packets, giving the flannel shirt guy a glare before placing three coffee mugs in the middle of the table.

“So what was with the pacifier?” Mr. Impatient asked, causing Joy to take a quick gasp of air.

“Oh, nothing,” she said politely, trying to play it off.  “It’s my son’s pacifier.  I was just being silly.”

Leaning in more carefully this time, she started filling the first cup of coffee.  Mr. Impatient leaned back, eyeing up her frame.

“There is no way you were ever pregnant,” Mr. Impatient said with a raised eyebrow as he looked at her waist.

Joy’s skin crawled again, but she smiled, trying to take what he said as a compliment.

“Well, thank you,” Joy said as she started to pour the second cup.  “I worked hard to take the extra weight off afterwards.”

“I bet you did,” Mr. Impatient said, sliding his cup of coffee as far away from as possible.

Swallowing another lump in her throat, she smiled again, leaning over the table and stretching her arm to fill his cup – the crinkles echoing in her ears.  Her waist was pressed against the end of the table and she felt the first tug of the back of her skirt as it rode up her hips slightly.  As soon as she filled his cup with coffee, she set the pot down on the table, carefully stood up and stepped backwards, putting her hands on her hips and lightly bouncing up and down once on her heels while she nonchalantly tried to push her skirt back down.

“So, are you guys ready to order?” she said quickly, trying to change the mood of the moment.

“I think so,” Mr. Impatient said, looking at his menu as the flannel shirt guy keep staring at her waist and the jock glared up at her with want in his eyes that made her tremble slightly.  “I’ll have the chicken with waffles.  Green beans and cole slaw.”

Mr. Impatient looked up at her, seeing she didn’t have an order pad.

“Aren’t you gonna write this down?” Mr. Impatient asked.

“Nope,” she said with a sweet smile.  “I’ll remember what you ordered.”

Joy stared blankly at the flannel shirt guy.

“And for you?” she asked with a monotone.

Smiling like an idiot, the flannel shirt guy picked up his menu and looked at it.

“New York strip steak with hash brown,” he said, setting the menu down and looking up at her.  “Medium well.”

“You get another vegetable with it,” Joy said with the same monotone.

“Surprise me,” the flannel shirt guy whispered with a grin.

Joy exhaled softly as she turned to the jock.

“I’ll have the New York strip steak, too,” the jock said.  “But I don’t want hash brown.  Instead, I want baked beans and applesauce.”

“Medium well?” she asked as she caught sight of the flannel guy staring at her breasts.

Picking up the menus, she held them in front of her as she awaited the jock’s response.

“Make mine … well done,” the jock said with a deep tone, giving her a wink and blowing her a kiss.”

In disgust with all three of them, she turned and walked away.

“You know, I think she mighta had a kid at some point,” the flannel shirt guy said to the other two as he watched her walk away.  “She does have some saddle bags goin’ on there.”

“And a fat ass, too,” the jock added.

Their comments stuck into her like daggers through her heart.  The one and only thing that always made major issues out of insecurities was someone being critical of her appearance.  And commenting on her weight was below the belt, more figuratively than literally.

Walking back into the kitchen and firing up the grills, she kept her eyes lowered, not even wanting to look at them and certainly not wanting them to see the tears they just put in her eyes.  The fantasies were broken and the diaper thing was irrelevant now.  They ruined it.  And as she made up their food, her heart sunk into depression as her always-optimistic outlook wavered.  And suddenly, this hideous diner began to feel like a trap to her as opposed to a temporary means to something better.

Plating up their food, she placed them on a tray on the window of the kitchen and walked around behind the counter as she grabbed one of those ridiculous white doily-like waist aprons, knowing it wouldn’t hide her bottom but hoping it would keep her skirt from riding up her hips.  And the thought of the skirt riding up her hips lead her thoughts back to their cruel comments about her body, reintroducing those dagger-like emotions that hurt even worse the second time around.

Gathering up the tray stand and every conceivable condiment they might ask for, she performed her balancing act of the tray as she made her way out to their booth, setting up in front of them and placing their food on the table.

“Is there anything else you guys need?” Joy asked, trying to retain pleasantness.

“Yeah, there is,” the flannel guy said.  “Lift up your skirt.”

“I beg your pardon,” Joy said sharply, giving him a look of disgust.

“Unbutton your top, too,” the jock added, giving her a glare that made her tremble again.

“I will do no such thing!” she snapped at the jock, now incapable of keeping the shakiness out of her voice.  “And furthermore, if you guys make another comment, I’m going to call the police.”

“No, you won’t,” Mr. Impatient said coldly.

The jock kicked the tray and its stand across the dining area as he stood up and blocked her escape back behind the counter.  The flannel guy stood up and blocked her escape the other.  Horrified at this point, Joy slowly backed up against the stools in front of the front counter, looking around desperately to find another escape route.

“Please leave me alone,” Joy said, teary-eyed.  “I said no.”

“Oh come on,” Mr. Impatient said, sliding across the booth seat and standing up.  “You were looking to play when we raced you through those red lights.  What’s the problem now?”

“I’m sorry I teased you guys,” Joy admitted, her entire body shaking.

“You can make it up to us,” Mr. Impatient said, picking up the pot of coffee from the booth table.

“What?” Joy asked, confused.

“Lift your skirt up and unbutton your top, like they politely asked you to,” Mr. Impatient said with arrogance in his voice.

Joy looked at the other two who were blocking her in and then back to Mr. Impatient.

“NO!” she screamed a split second before he took the top of the coffee pot off and threw the hot coffee at her.

The scolding coffee hit her chest and splashed up onto her face as she shrieked in pain.

“Now, do as you’re told,” Mr, Impatient said, closing in on her.

With one swift kick, she planted her foot between his legs and dropped him to his knees as she then turned around and started scaling up over the front counter to get away.

“Grab her!” Mr. Impatient grunted as he cupped himself in pain.

The jock and the flannel shirt guy, closed in and grabbed Joy, pinning her to the counter.

Then the flannel shirt guy grabbed the back of her skirt, yanking it up and for a few seconds, the guys got quiet as Joy screamed at the top of her lungs.  Shock, more than anything else, silenced them before laughter rung through in each of their voices.

“I knew it,” the flannel guy laughed.  “I heard something funny when you bent over the table.

The flannel guy cracked his hand across her diapered bottom, causing Joy to struggle harder to break free of their chicken wing hold of her.

“You ain’t never been pregnant, have you?” the flannel guy asked.

“No,” Joy cried.  “Let me go.”

“So what was with the pacifier, then?” the flannel guy asked, cracking her across her diapered bottom again.

Joy screamed louder and struggled with all her might, but the jock bared all of his muscle-bound weight down on her, forcing her to stop wiggling.

“Hey, wait a minute,” the flannel guy said, winding his arm up and smacking the back of her diapered again, forcing her to cry out once more before diminishing to sobs.  “She seems to like that a lot.”

“Yeah,” the jock said with a widening grin.  “Let’s find out how much.”

And with that, the jock sat down on one of the front counter stools, grabbing her off the counter top and bending her over his knee.  She struggled to wiggle free again, but he pinned her forearms to her lower back and pushed down with such might that she stopped wiggling from the pain.

“Now, the way I see it,” the jock said, looking at the two other guys.  “This little missy here, teased us while she was driving, lied to us about being pregnant and kicked you in the balls, Tom.”

Joy screamed at the top of her lungs, crying for help.

“Oh my God, shut her up, Ricky,” Mr. Impatient said as he took a seat back in the booth, still recovering for her kick to his groin.

“My pleasure,” the flannel shirt guy said, unbuckling his belt, wrapping a napkin around it from the table, then wrapping the belt around her head – forcing her jaws open and stuffing the napkin on her mouth before he fastened the buckle at the back of her head.

Kneeling down in front of her, the flannel shirt guy pulled back on the tail length of the belt, lifting her head up to force her to look at him.

“This ain’t nearly like your pacifier, but you just won’t shut up, will ya?”the flannel shirt guy said.  “What are we gonna do about her, Harry?”

“I guess she needs to learn a lesson…” the jock replied, lifting his free hand up in the air.  “… the hard way.”

The jock swung down and deliver a flat-handed smack across the center of both of her bottom cheeks with such force that she was lunged forward, nearly falling off his lap.  Lifting her back up into place, the jock raised his hand a second time and swung down twice as hard.  Joy’s face was beet red, not from embarrassment but from a mixture of pain and horrific fear.  She screamed into the napkin with what would have been a deafening sound, had she not been gagged.

The jock raised his hand a third time and swung down again, this time hitting her bottom with such forced that even the palm of his hand felt the sting.  Clenching his hand in a fist as the sting went away, he looked down at her bottom, bright with a detailed outline of his hand – almost as if she had been branded with it.

“Stand her up,” Mr. Impatient said as the flannel shirt guy took a seat next to the jock and they held her between them.  “Now, you pretty little liar, you cock-teasing little tramp … let’s see how you like it.”

And with that, Mr. Impatient kicked his steel-tipped boot into her diapered crotch.  Her muffled screamed turned to wincing groans behind the napkin as her knees gave out.  She would’ve collapsed to the floor, had she not still been chickened-winged by the other two guys.

“Hurts, doesn’t it?” Mr. Impatient asked her rhetorically as he grabbed her lower jaw and forced her face up.

She nodded.

“How do you think I feel?” he asked, leaning in towards her face and glaring her down.  “All I wanted was for you to pay attention to the green lights.  But you had to go and be some sassy little bitch, didn’t you?”

With tears streaming down her face, she nodded, too scared to disagree with him.

“I … hate … sassy little bitches,” Mr. Impatient said, his nostrils flaring at this point.  “You’re gonna learn some manners.  You’re gonna learn there are rules.”

Standing up, Mr. Impatient took the belt length from the flannel guy’s hand.

“Rule #1 …” Mr. Impatient said, unbuckling the belt and taking the napkin out of her mouth.  “You do not ever scream.  In fact, you do not ever make a sound.  You’re a pretty face.  I wanna see you, not hear you.  And if you so much as breathe too heavy, you will regret it.”

Joy closed her lips tightly, doing her best to breathe slowly and evenly through her nose but struggling to stay calm.  How could she possibly remain completely quiet?

“Rule #2 …” Mr. Impatient began, reaching around behind her and untying the waist apron before turning around and picking up his plates of chicken and waffles.  “When you are told to do something …”

Then he poured the plates of chicken and waffles and all the gravy down the front of her waitress outfit before completing his thought.

“… you will do it,” Mr. Impatient said before tearing open the front of her waitress outfit.  “It’s a shame you’re so unruly.  You’re just too spit-fire to know what’s good for you.”

Placing his hands on the cups of her bra, he looked down at her feet and then back up to her eyes, raising an eyebrow at her as he groped her breasts.  Joy closed her eyes, not wanting to look him in the face anymore.

“I think she likes it, Tom,” the flannel guy said with a laugh so revolting Joy trembled uncontrollably.

“And rule #3 …” Mr. Impatient said with a low tone, causing Joy to open her eyes as he stepped closer to her, pinching her nipples through her bra.  “It’s okay to make mistakes, but not without apologizing.”

Mr. Impatient looked at his two friends and grinned the most evil grin he had thus far.

“Pin her to the table,” Mr. Impatient said as the guys yanked her up and tossed her onto the table, on top of their food, flipping her over onto her back.

They sat on either side of her, with one hand around her wrist as they forced it under the table and their other hand just below her knees as they kept her legs parted.  It was only then, when she saw Mr. Impatient unbuckling his belt and unzipping the fly of his jeans, that she knew what was about to happen.

“No!  Please don’t!” she screamed, beginning to struggle to break free as she returned to crying.

“Ya just broke rule #1 and rule #2,” Mr. Impatient said, stepping up to the edge of the booth table.  “I guess you still need to learn a lesson, huh?”

Just then, those little door bells began to jingle and for the first time since she had started to working at that diner, they were a welcomed sound – no longer the clanging chimes of doom, but rather, more symbolic of hope than church bells.

In walked Pierce with his hands folded behind his back.  Though still pinned to the table, Joy’s heart leapt for her namesake.  And Pierce seemed to have a glow around him as if he were an angel.

“I suggest you leave immediately,” Mr. Impatient said to Pierce with a tone so scary that even the flannel shirt guy and the jock were taken back by it.

“The police are on the way,” Pierce said with a calm, even tone.  “I’ve already given your license plate number and slashed all four of your tires.  So, since you won’t be going anywhere … between now and the time they arrive, I suggest the three of you have a seat.  And if you so much as lay another finger on her, I guarantee you, you will never be the same when I’m done with you.”

“Oh, we’ll get away, alright.  Let the bitch go, boys,” Mr. Impatient said as they released her and joined him on either side.  “What I wanna know is … how do you expect to beat all three of us?”

“You don’t remember me.  Do you, Tom?” Pierce said to Mr. Impatient.  “Well … I remember you … very well.  You still living life off your Stepfather’s dime?  Driving around fancy cars he bought for you?”

“Let’s get ‘em, Tom,” the flannel shirt guy said, only to be stopped as Mr. Impatient tried to piece together why this guy knew him.

“You’re Pierce Williams,” Mr. Impatient said with a suddenly-knowing grin.  “How’s your sister doing these days?”

“A lot better, now that you’re gone,” Pierce replied.

“Really?”  Mr. Impatient asked with an ever-growing smile.  “I heard she lost her mind and got locked up in some insane asylum.”

Pierce’s face, calm and focused up to this point, showed a building-rage behind his eyes.

“Boys, this poor jackass you see in front of you was once a decent baseball player,” Mr. Impatient said, cracking his knuckles and getting ready to fight.  “He was so good, he almost made it to a Big League team.  But he just couldn’t hack it in the end.  Isn’t that right, Pierce?”

“Something like that.  Yeah,” Pierce replied, continuing to glare Mr. Impatient down.

“He even made his own baseball bat.  He named it himself,” Mr. Impatient laughed.  “What did you name that bat, Pierce?”

And it was only then that Mr. Impatient took notice to the fact that Pierce’s hands were behind his back. Bringing his hand around to his front, Pierce held up the bat he carved with his own hands and used at the plate, every time he stepped up to it.

“I called it Chivalry,” Pierce said, gripping the handle tightly.  “And I only need to swing it one … more … time before I can put it down for good.”

Mr. Impatient’s smugness left his demeanor for the first time since he walked into that diner.  Seeing Pierce winding up the bat, he knew well the danger he was suddenly in.  Not wanting to stick around any longer, the flannel shirt guy and the jock bolted past Pierce, straight out the front door.

“Batter up,” Pierce said, taking a step towards Mr. Impatient.

Quickly grabbing a knife from the table and yanking Joy up off the floor, Mr. Impatient placed the knife to her throat.

“Now here’s what’s gonna happen,” Mr. Impatient said, pinning Joy back against him as the police pulled into the diner parking lot.  “I’m going out the back door and I’m taking her with me.”

Mr. Impatient started backing up, weaving his way through the front counter area and keeping Joy pinned against him at knife point.  Pierce followed him slowly.

“Drop the bat, Pierce,” Mr. Impatient said, slowly walking backwards through the kitchen towards the back door.  “Drop it, or I’ll cut her throat.”

Pierce began to lower the bat, but he didn’t let go of it.

“I suggest you tell him to drop the bat,” Mr. Impatient said to Joy.

“Tom,” Joy said, calmly.  “I want you to know that I’m sorry.”

And with that, she drew her left foot up, planting the heel of her sneaker into his groin.  He bent over in pain, releasing her from his grip.  She fell to the floor and Pierce raised the bat up to swing when Mr. Impatient lunged forward at him, tackling him to the ground and knocking the bat from his hands.

A struggled ensued, ending with Mr. Impatient putting Pierce in a choke hold.

“You know what the difference is between me and your sister, Pierce,” Mr. Impatient said, squeezing as hard as he could to cut off Pierce’s air supply.  “She was, and probably still is, someone who thought she could get away with anything.  I may go down for this, but I’ll be back some day.”

“The difference between you and my sister,” Pierce said, struggling for air.  “… is that she learned and she put her life back together.  You, on the hand will just keep falling apart.”

Pierce heaved all of his weight forward and tossed Mr. Impatient over his head.  Free from the choke hold, Pierce picked up the bat and wound up to swing.

“Freeze!” a policeman said as several cops burst into the kitchen with raised guns.

“I’ve still got one swing left in this bat,” Pierce said as he placed it on the ground.  “And I’ll be saving it for you …when you come back, some day.”

Mr. Impatient and Pierce were both hand-cuffed until the cops could figure out what happened.  Stood to his feet, Mr. Impatient was led outside, followed shortly by Pierce – detained the same way.

The flannel shirt guy and the jock only got about a mile down the road before they were picked up and Joy was treated in an ambulance for her injuries.  Nothing seemed life-threatening and an appointment was made for the following morning to be treated at the medical center once it opened up.

Sitting in the back of that ambulance in a bra and a diaper while having private areas of her body given more than attention than what a microscope would have given, Joy probably should’ve felt horrible.  This whole experience had been worse than any nightmare she could’ve imagined.  But sitting there, with Pierce’s jacket draped over her shoulders, she felt more safe than she had ever felt before.

And as Pierce walked her to her car, she clung up alongside his body.

“So, um … I have this whole diaper thing that I like,” Joy said, freely admitting that which was obvious at this point.

“I know.  In fact, I’ve known that for a while,” Pierce said.

“Really?  How did you know?” Joy asked, a little surprised.

“Joy, you crinkle every time you wear a diaper,” Pierce laughed.  “And you tend to bounce with each waddle.  It’s clear that you like it.”

“But it’s not just about dressing up,” Joy said, unlocking her car and opening the driver’s door.

“I know,” Pierce said softly.  “And you’re not acting, either.”

“And you don’t think I’m weird?” Joy asked, lowering her chin and biting her lower lip as she looked up at him with hope in her eyes.

“No, I don’t think you’re weird,” Pierce said, running his fingertips down the side of face.  “But I’m hoping you have an answer to what I asked you to think about.”

Joy smiled brightly, touched that he remembered, despite everything that had happened.

“So, what’s the one thing that you want more than anything else in this world,” he asked, looking on her front seat and then leaning into the front of her car for a moment before standing back up to hear her answer.

“I don’t want things to change anymore,” Joy replied.  “I thought about it before those guys showed up.  And then I thought some more about it when I was sitting in that ambulance.  All I want to be able to have steak and eggs every day for the rest of my life.”

“You know, there are people in this world who keep changing all the time,” Pierce said placing the pacifier he found on her front seat between her lips.

Her eyes grew big and wide as she took the rubber nipple into her mouth.  But as he kept speaking, her eyes softened into a mesmerized gaze.

“Some people travel and some people don’t.  And there’s two ways of looking at it,” Pierce said, putting his arms around her and gently embracing her.  “On the one hand, you could say that there are people who will rise up to opportunities and  not allow anything to prevent them from getting where they want to go while at the same time there are other people who just won’t move – no matter what opportunities they have to miss.”

She felt the warmth rising up off his chest, breathing in that wonderful scent she called Pierce.

“But another way of looking at it would be to say that some people are comfortable enough to find a place they can call home while others have to keep searching, hoping one day they be comfortable enough to settle in where they are,” Pierce said, reaching down and placing his hand on her diapered bottom.  “Sometimes, all you have to do is make up your mind about what you want and when you do that, all the pieces fall into place.”

Joy’s heart pounded and she melted with the little pats he made to her diapered bottom.

“How about we come back tomorrow morning and get your car?” Pierce asked.  “I’ve got a bed you can sleep in and a place you can call home.  One that won’t require working two jobs any more to pay for.”

She looked up at him, more vulnerable at that moment than at any other.

“Yes, Daddy,” she whispered with trepidation.

“That’s a good girl,” Pierce said, shutting her front door and scooping her up off her feet as he carried her to his car.

The trepidation left her heart and as he sat her in the front seat of his car and began to drive away, she turned around and looked back, realizing then that she had turned off those diner lights for the last time, turned off those filthy grills for the last time, locked those front doors for the last time, listened to those annoying little door bells for the last time and had left The Grease Spoon Diner for good.

She hoped and prayed, however, that Pierce wouldn’t be too tired when they got back to his place, because she was in desperate need of a diaper change.

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………………….. The ABDL Twisted Books

The ABDL MedFet Book   The ABDL MedFet Book 2   The ABDL MedFet Book 3   The ABDL MedFet Book 4   The ABDL MedFet Book 5  
   MF 1         MF 2        MF 3        MF 4        MF 5         MF 6

The ABDL Nympho Book 1   The ABDL Nympho Book 2   The ABDL Nympho Book 3       The ABDL Horror Book
Nym 1       Nym 2      Nym 3      Dead      Dead 2    Horror

 The ABDL Pet Play Book   The Voice   Tales With A Twist    
  Pet Play     Voice       Twist       3some      Stolen

If you like these books, you may want to check out:
The Dark Age Play Series



3 responses to “Late Night at the Grease Spoon

  1. Pingback: Late Night at the Grease Spoon (Part 2 of 3) |

  2. Pingback: Late Night at the Grease Spoon (Part 3 of 3) |

  3. Pingback: The ABDL Horror Book |

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