"...And that concludes our Valentine's Day episode. You've been listening to The Padded Parasol, where we talk about everything padded from diapers to bodices; bonnets to onesies. Your penultimate adult diaper roleplay and retrofuturist nerd podcast. Whether you are a Steampunk Stinker, or just a fan of frilly and crinkly things, The Padded Parasol wants to hear from you! I'm your host, Derpy Murphy, and we are at the top of the hour where we take a caller request for a topic for our next show! As you know, our caller request at the end of the night is completely random, so here we go! Random caller, you are on the air. Where are you hailing from?"

"Hi. I'm... uh, from Sausalito, California. And I was wondering, could you do an episode on the Victorian history of handkerchiefs and the various codes around that?"

"That is a stupendous suggestion, Caller from Sausalito, California. Thank you. I'll get right to work on preparing that episode for you and the rest of our devoted listeners. Until next time, Padded Ones. I'm Derpy Murphy. Good night!"

Taking the headphones from her head, she clicked the radio off the air and sat back in the chair with a heavy sigh. "Ya Allah, I'm so wiped. I have a long drive home and I am not prepared to drive in the snow. Please, please, let me get home safely," she prayed quietly to herself. Her phone buzzed for the Maghrib prayer time and she picked it up to quiet the notification as she read it.

"Yeah, that counts. Better get out there before it really starts coming down and I'm stuck here at the studio for who knows how long till the roads clear."

She went through the motions of locking up the public access radio station studio, signing out and then putting herself on the schedule for next month, determined to do it before they ran out of slots and she had to make the next episode on her girlfriend's laptop.

Derpy Murphy, whose real name was Hafyyda Rahman, got into her SUV and drove as safely as she could home. Walking through the door, she was washed in a wind of heat and warmth. The fireplace was crackling and there was some stew in the cauldron brewing.

One of her lovers was sitting on the couch nearby with a book. He looked up at her, pushing his glasses up on his nose with one hand as the other placed a bookmark between the pages.

"Salaam."

"Salaam, were you waiting up for me, Muhammad?"

"Of course, when have I not waited up for you?" He reached for a very tall stick and used it to heft his body up from his sitting place, making his way over to Hafyyda to embrace her in a hug that naturally moved to a lingering kiss on the lips. It was chaste but intimate. "I can taste the stress on you," he whispered in a raspy voice.

"You're supposed to be feeding from Yusufa this week; is she not taking care of you?"

"Not as well as you do..." He nuzzled his cheek against hers and trembled as a snarl of hunger rumbled from his chest. "I have been trying to hold back. Not be so... demanding, so needy. Reading helps."

"And what are you reading tonight?"

"It is one of Abdul's books, something about spies and intrigue. You know what he likes."

"Where is he? Has he been okay?"

"Still not speaking. He's been on Yusufa's hip all day. I don't know how long he's going to be non-verbal, but he appears to be front-locked."

"Guess we'll find out when he is finally able to switch again."

"If he is able to switch again."

"Inshallah he will, when he is ready. Don't be such a pessimist, Muhammad."

He sighed, sucking in a bit of air through his teeth as he pulled back enough to glance at her face, giving her his eyes. "I cannot help it. When my prana is low I get very negative and pessimistic."

"Stop dry begging and just ask Yusufa directly for a deep feed. She's not good when you drop hints, you know that."

"I don't want her prana. I want yours. You... make me feel better afterward."

"You... said you needed to alternate between us; you said you needed variety."

"I did say that. But maybe I was wrong..."

Hafyyda looked at him and took a deep breath. "Let me get changed. I'm sweating and I have a new show to plan."

"I don't mind you when you're fragrant, you know that."

"If you don't let me wudu before I feed you, you will have indigestion. I am grimy with the wayward energy of the world and... stress of social masking..." She tipped his chin to look down to meet her eyes. "I want to be at my best for you, my sweet, struggling, Shaitan. Don't deny me my little rituals."

"Heard."

"Go back to your book. I'm going to go say hello to Yusufa and Abdul."

With a nod, Muhammad leaned on his walking stick and made his way back to where he had been seated with his book. Hafyyda made her way down the hallway to the bedrooms. There was only one room door that was ajar and from it there was music playing softly.

Peeking inside the bedroom, there was Yusufa sitting upright in bed with her laptop on her lap, working on some lo-fi music album or another. There was a lump of blankets on her leg, and Abdul's face was barely peeking out from them.

"Salaam," Hafyyda greeted in a whisper.

Yusufa looked up, smiled, then waved her into the room. "Want to listen to what I've been working on?" she asked, her British accent making her words sound crisp, as if they were somehow brand new, just printed fresh as she spoke them.

Hafyyda moved quietly into the room and accepted the headphones from Yusufa and as she put the headphones on to listen, Abdul stirred in his blankets, moving so that Yusufa could feel his pamp against her lower leg, rubbing. She stilled and watched, wondering if he was waking or wondering if Abdul was finally able to switch out and let someone else front for a bit. It had been months.

"Abdul, sweetie, are you waking up?"

There was a groan sound and his body moved so that his face was fully visible; he was frowning like he was dreaming something uncomfortable.

"That's not Abdul's frown." Hafyyda said, taking the headphones down to rest on her neck.

"You're right."

"Whose is it?"

He stirred again, his hips thrusting against Yusufa's leg and he exhaled a trembling breath before he started to grind against her, that frown becoming a different expression altogether. The groans took on a different emotional note as well.

"It's Kelly."

"He hasn't fronted in --"

"Shhh... let him have his time. Don't want to spook them into another front lock... Let him rut it out."

Kelly, now fronting, identified, threw the blanket off as he lifted, curled a leg around Yusufa's and started grinding against her, thrusting his hips, hungry, hard and heavy. The two women watched him and Yusufa started to get hard herself. She closed her laptop and set it on her nightstand gently, carefully. Hafyyda put the headphones just as carefully atop of it. Yusufa was staring at her boyfriend, as he rutted against her, feeling his warmth pressing against her through the crinkle of his diaper.

Her hand slowly reached to massage her own bulge. Hafyyda looked at Yusufa, watching her watch him. Her face puckered into a pleasure frown and she bit her lip, a barely audible breath whispered out of her throat as her hand slipped into her sweatpants and into her own diaper, rubbing her small girlcock erection.

The sound of the combined crinkle was making Hafyyda's body tense and more fragrant. She glanced up at the door, and Muhammad was standing there, suddenly. She wasn't sure how long he'd been standing there. His dark eyes were staring into Hafyyda with a pleading or beckoning in them that made her throat dry. Maybe wudu could be done after she fed him. That look was making her body alert in every sensual way from just the promise of his touch in his gaze.

Kelly groaned as he pressed hard against Yusufa's leg. The orgasm energy passed to Yusufa and she was tipping her head back, exhaling softly as her hand jerked hard and she shut her eyes tight. Her body shook as her stroking fist squeezed out every drop till it oozed over her fingers, and she rubbed it on the wall of the diaper as she took her hand out. "Kelly?" she called out to him, and this time he looked up.

"Hey Yussi, damn, when did you cut your hair? It looks good."

Yusufa laughed that kind of laugh that was catharsis and turned to crying a little bit.

"Yeah?"

Kelly sat up with a concerned expression. "What month is it now?"

"February."

"Oh. Well... the last thing I remember was pumpkin pie and turkey so... uh, Happy New Year?"

Yusufa laugh-cried again and moved to close the distance and wrapped her arms around him, and he moaned his happiness. Then turned to kiss her full on her lips—briefly, cautiously. "Is this still okay?" he asked as he looked at her.

She nodded. "Very okay... I've missed you so much!" She sobbed into her smile and wiped her tears away and leaned in to kiss him again.

Hafyyda smiled at the two of them and quietly left the room, figuring that she'd listen to the new track another time. She met Muhammad who was still standing at the door.

"C'mon, let's go to my room; let them have their moment. We can catch up with Kelly later."

"For sure, for sure..." he turned to step out of her way so she could walk out of the doorway and head down the hall to her room. She could hear him following her and the pressure of his presence at her back was both reassuring and terrifying in a way that made her more aroused.

Once the motion sensor lights turned on as they entered the room, she made a beeline to sit on her bed; he stepped in after her and closed the door and then leaned against it. "I envy you," he said, out of breath.

"For what?"

"I'm unraveled from watching that and you are barely affected at all."

"Ace perks, I guess?"

"I am ace too, when I'm not starving. And I... didn't feel right taking that energy from Yusufa. Are you... sure you are consenting to this? I... can probably wait until it's your week... if I had to."

Hafyyda answered that by starting to unlace her corset. "If you don't feed, that's on you. I need to get off either way. It's been a long day."

Muhammad stared. "Hafyyda..."

She giggled at the struggle in his voice from her joke. "I consent to feed you my energy."

"Thank you."

"Want to help me get undressed?"

"I like to watch you do it. Also, my joints are... hurting me."

"That bad?"

"Everything hurts when I don't feed, you know that."

"Maybe you need to make me your official donor. You know, like a collaring ceremony for Valentine's day. We can find some Victorian custom and vamp it up... hehe, you see what I did there?"

Muhammad smirked. "You're adorable."

"I know."

"You'd really enter into a contract with a Shaitan like me? Disabled and demanding?"

"I like you. I trust and respect you. I like the way I feel when you feed on me. I like knowing I've helped you feel whole again, even if it's only for a short while. It's like being close and connected to me gives you peace and that gives me joy. But I think most of all... is that I like that you need me. Is that weird to say?"

"No."

Muhammad's eyes were watching her take off all her layers, the corset, the bodice, till she was down to her shift and her hijab. She set all the disrobed clothes in a pile on her chair near her desk. And then moved to sit back down on her bed, one leg under the other and leaning back on her hands, with a vulnerable expression on her face before she averted her eyes from his out of habit.

"Hafyyda... look at me, please?"

She smiled. "I want to keep my hijab on, okay?"

"Of course."

Muhammad set his walking stick near the door and moved slowly to sit next to her on the bed. Reaching to touch her face till she looked up at him. "I'll help you wudu after. I promise..."

Hafyyda nodded. "Upon my word, those eyes, how they transfix my soul, sweet devil, am I to be devoured?"

"Yes."

The sound of the bed creaking as Muhammad moved closer, and then the lights clicked off in her room and then there was only the sharp and sustained gasping from her throat, and the growling from his. The sounds fed into each other, echoing what they were doing in the dark. Like captions to a movie that has faded to black, to give the actors a sense of privacy. Even though Hafyyda and Muhammad were no actors, and this was not some grand stage. It was a private moment in her bedroom. It seemed fitting that only the darkness knows what a hijabi does with her Shaitan.

He fed as deep as he could. It left her wheezing, gasping for air, and her body twitching from the aftershocks of pleasure. He moved from between her legs to lie next to her.

"Are you alright?"

"Yes, Subhanallah, I'm very alright. You?"

"I'm satisfied."

"Mmm, so am I, so am I..." Hafyyda yawned and sighed drowsily.

"I think we both needed that."

"Valentine's Day Treat..."

"Mmm, you know what a real Valentine's Day Treat would be?"

"What's that?" Muhammad asked as he nibbled on her shoulder affectionately.

She turned to look at him. "If... if you gave me a golden shower. Mark me as yours..."

Muhammad sucked in a breath. "I did promise to help you with wudu."

"You did."

"Are you awake enough to move or shall I carry you to the bathroom?"

"You got enough energy to carry me?"

"And then some, yes."

"I think a small nap is in order first, but you can't pee until you help me wudu and you mark me as your donor. Can you do that? Is your bladder patient?"

"Yes. I can wait until you wake, Hafyyda"

"Good Shiatan," she praised cheekily as she drifted off to sleep.

He lay next to her, dozing himself but lighter, as if he was on guard, listening for anything that may disturb her rest, ready to fight it, should it happen. He slept with one protective eye open and a possessive arm draped across her body, holding her close, keeping her safe.