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Hi all. With the number of chapters that I have. I sat down to figure out how long it would take to upload two chapters per week. It would take two years to upload everything that I that I have written so far. I just now getting to how I met my wife. I am sure that the interest in this story would die off by then. So, I am going to put out three new chapters per week. Thank you all for reading the story. So here is the next chapter. Chapter 91 Just then, Betsy’s mom called out from the laundry room. Her voice had that unmistakable edge—firm, curious, and not exactly thrilled. We walked in to find three diapers laid out neatly on the table. She stood beside them, arms crossed, her gaze shifting from the diapers to us. Can either of you explain, she said slowly, why there are four diapers here? All pulled from Betsy’s diaper bag? The way she emphasized diaper bag made it clear—she wasn’t amused. And, she added, pointing to one of them, would someone care to explain why this diaper looks completely different from the others? I’ve never seen this one before. I explained, with winter coming, Betsy wanted some pajamas that would help hide her diaper at night—something cozy but discreet. So, I found a lady who can custom-make a few sets for her. Her mom raised an eyebrow. That’s new. She’s never worried about that before. She’s always been fine just wearing a diaper to bed and nothing else. Betsy shifted slightly, her expression thoughtful. I guess I just want something that feels a little more… normal. Especially now that we’re in the new apartment. Her mom nodded slowly, taking it in. Well, if it makes you feel more comfortable, I’m all for it. Just surprised, that’s all. Then her eyes drifted back to the table. But that still doesn’t explain why there are three used diapers sitting here. I cleared my throat and stepped in. The lady making Betsy’s pajamas asked her to wear a diaper to the appointment so she could get accurate measurements. It took longer than we expected, and by the time she was done, Betsy really needed to pee. Her mom raised an eyebrow. There wasn’t a restroom in the shop, I continued. It was down the hall, and by the time Betsy got her dress back on, well… she couldn’t wait any longer. Betsy gave a sheepish smile, her cheeks slightly pink. It just kind of happened. I nodded, trying to explain. After I got Betsy cleaned up, I started looking through the diaper bag for some underwear—but there wasn’t any. I asked her if she packed any, and she said she forgot. Betsy gave a sheepish shrug. Then, I continued, the lady must’ve overheard us talking, because the next thing I knew, she handed me a brand-new diaper through the curtain. She said it was one she’d just finished making, so I used it. That’s where the new diaper came from. Betsy’s mom looked at the diaper on the table and gave a small nod. Well… it is a cute diaper. Then her eyes narrowed slightly. But that still doesn’t explain why there are four wet diapers here when there should only be one. I hesitated, glancing at Betsy, who looked like she was trying to disappear into the floor. Well, I said slowly, between the fitting, the drive, and dinner… let’s just say we had a few moments where a restroom wasn’t exactly nearby. Betsy added softly, it was a long day. Her mom sighed, then shook her head with a faint smile. You two are something else. Her mom glanced at Betsy and said, go ahead and take off that dress too—I’ll throw it in with the rest of the laundry. Betsy hesitated for a moment, clearly unsure. Her mom, already halfway to the washer, called back, come on, I don’t have all day. With a quiet sigh, Betsy pulled the dress over her head and handed it over. She stood there only wearing a bra, looking a little self-conscious. Her mom turned around, took one look, and paused. There was a flicker of something in her expression—surprise, maybe even concern—but she didn’t say anything right away. The room was quiet for a beat too long. She turned and looked at me, her expression firm. What did I tell you about letting my daughter go commando? I met her gaze calmly. This is the first time it’s happened in three years. And I’m pretty sure you wouldn’t have wanted me to put her back into a used diaper. She paused, then nodded. You’re right about that. Turning to Betsy, she said, Go get dressed. As Betsy headed off, her mom looked back at me, her tone softening just a little. I’m sure there’s more to this story than what you’re telling me… but we’ll go with it for now. I gave a quiet nod, grateful that she was willing to let it slide—for the moment. I walked back to Betsy’s room and found her still standing there in just her bra, rifling through her closet, trying to decide what to wear for the day. We need to head back out and grab a few things for the apartment, I reminded her. So hurry up and get dressed. She turned to look at me, a thoughtful expression on her face. I’m pretty sure my mom didn’t believe half the stuff we told her. I gave a small shrug. There’s not much we can do about that now. She nodded, pulling a shirt from the hanger and holding it up to herself. As Betsy was getting dressed, I noticed a small stack of cloth diapers on her bed—fresh from the dryer, still warm to the touch. It was usually her job to fold them, but with her busy deciding what to wear, I figured I’d help out. I picked up the first one and began folding, the soft fabric still carrying the scent of clean laundry. There was something oddly comforting about the task—simple, quiet, familiar. By the time Betsy was dressed, I had finished folding all the diapers and neatly stacked them on her changing table. She gave me a grateful smile, and with that, we headed out for a full day of shopping—ready to tackle the next round of apartment errands together. The next two weeks were a whirlwind. Every day, I drove out to our new apartment—dropping off supplies, meeting with furniture delivery crews, and coordinating with vendors to make sure everything arrived on time. Bit by bit, the place was starting to feel like home. Betsy’s new clothes and diapers were finally finished. The seamstress had done a beautiful job, and we carefully stored the custom pieces in the apartment’s storage room—out of sight, just the way Betsy wanted. Some things felt personal, and we respected that. The diapers that had been made were brought up to the master bedroom, waiting patiently for the changing table to arrive. Once it did, everything would be ready to go—organized, thoughtful, and exactly how we envisioned it. One small blessing was that Betsy’s mom was usually gone by the time we left each morning. It made things simpler. Betsy was always in a diaper for the ride out to the apartment, and it had quietly become part of our routine—no fuss, no questions, just comfort and consistency. Over those two weeks, there were plenty of diaper changes out on the new balcony. It became a bit of a routine—sunlight streaming in, the quiet hum of the neighborhood below, and us settling into our new rhythm. It wasn’t always convenient, but it was ours. We were smart about it, though. Betsy always had a change of underwear packed, just in case. It gave her options, a little extra comfort, and a sense of control over the day. That mattered. The apartment was slowly coming together. The weekend before our big move-in, both of our parents came to help us settle in. We all arrived around 10 a.m. on Saturday, ready to tackle the final stretch. The apartment was buzzing with energy—boxes stacked, furniture waiting to be assembled, and a long list of tasks ahead. Betsy seemed a little disappointed during the drive over. With our parents following close behind, she hadn’t felt comfortable wearing a diaper like she usually did for the trip. It was one of those small compromises that came with family being around—hard to explain, easier to avoid. The first project on the list was setting up the balcony. We’d envisioned it as a cozy little retreat, and our moms, along with Betsy, took charge of transforming it. They chatted and laughed as they arranged furniture, hung string lights, and unpacked planters. It was nice seeing them work together—three women with very different styles, somehow making it all come together. While the moms and Betsy tackled the balcony, I teamed up with our dads in the living room. My dad, in true over-the-top fashion, had brought a massive TV and an even bigger stereo cabinet—one of those pieces that looked like it belonged in a showroom, not a modest apartment. It took all three of us an hour and a half just to assemble the thing. Screws, panels, instructions that made no sense—it was a full workout. By the time we finally got it standing upright, we were sweaty, tired, and mildly proud. The only problem? I didn’t even own a stereo. I looked at the empty shelves and laughed. Well, I guess I’ve got room to grow. Our dads chuckled, and we moved on to the next task. The apartment was starting to take shape. By the time we wrapped up the living room, the gals had finished setting up the balcony and were already moving on to the kitchen. Meanwhile, we headed into what we were calling the office—a cozy little space where I set up my drafting table and Betsy’s work desk. Somewhere in the middle of all that, we lost track of Betsy’s dad. He’d wandered off, and none of us noticed until he reappeared just as we were finishing up. Lunch is ready, he announced, grinning. Out on the balcony. We followed him out and were greeted by a full spread—sandwiches, salads, drinks, and even dessert. It was a feast, and I couldn’t help but forgive him for skipping out on the office setup. He’d clearly put his energy elsewhere. While we were eating, I noticed a large box tucked off to the side. I had no idea where it came from or what was inside. I made a mental note to check it out later—there were still plenty of things to sort through. After lunch, the gals moved on to setting up the bathrooms and finishing touches in the office. Us men tackled the California king bed. That’s when I realized I’d gone a little overboard with the frame—it was massive, almost as ridiculous as the oversized stereo cabinet. It took all of us to wrestle it into place, but once it was up, it looked impressive. Maybe a little too impressive. The last task on our list was assembling Betsy’s changing table. Us men rolled up our sleeves and got to work, the pieces laid out across the floor like a puzzle waiting to come together. As we tightened the final screws, Betsy’s dad stepped back and gave an approving nod. I’ve got to say, I’m really surprised at how well this thing is built, he said. Sturdy, solid—whoever made it knew what they were doing. My mom wandered in to check on our progress. Her eyes lit up as she took in the finished piece. It’s beautiful, she said, running a hand along the smooth wood. You can tell it was made with a young girl in mind. It’s sweet, but a bit childish. She smiled warmly. Betsy’s going to look lovely here when it’s time for a change. With the changing table fully assembled, it was the gals’ turn to finish the last few touches—organizing supplies, stocking drawers, and making sure everything had its place. As our moms sorted through the items, mine suddenly lit up with excitement over Betsy’s new diapers. Oh my goodness, she said, holding one up. These are adorable! A little childish, maybe—but way cuter than those plain white ones. She turned to Betsy with a grin. You’re moving up in the fashion world, sweetheart. Betsy laughed, a little bashful but clearly pleased. The final item to be added was the diaper pail. Betsy’s mom picked it up and admired it. Wow, this thing is huge—and look, it even has her name on it. That’s so cute. Then she opened the lid and paused. Hmm… looks like it’s already been used once. Betsy’s eyes widened. Shoot—I forgot to take that out. Her mom raised an eyebrow. It was for an emergency, Mom, Betsy said, half-defensive, half-playful. Her mom just smiled and shook her head. You said so, hon. She pulled out the wet diaper, walked it over to the washer, and tossed it in without another word. Just as we were catching our breath, my dad clapped his hands and said, Well, looks like we’re done with this job. But Betsy’s dad shook his head with a grin. Not quite. We’ve got one more thing to set up. That well make our night follow me. We exchanged glances, a little surprised, and trailed behind him as he led us down the hall. There was a sense of mystery in the air—none of us had any idea what he was about to reveal. -
Love this! The pull, urging, and almost surreal release of putting them on is incredibly relatable and cathartic -
By Drownedinp · Posted
"Have you and my mom...?" "Have you and my mom, what?" Asked Holly. "Have you and my mom had sex before? Asked Joe turning almost beet red. Like you did this weekend?" Holly wondered should I tell him the truth, lie, or just not tell him change the subject. Holly said "Once before. When I saw her coordinated underwear she took me out to get some for me I a as modeling them for her and next thing I knew we were both naked and she had her things, her toys as she cballs them she used them, but don't worry I like the real thing! As she rubbed him through his pants. Soon Joe and Holly were named and having sex. After they were done they rediapered each other and fell asleep. Joe was no better than Holly he was her little bedwetter now. Next morning Joe informed her he wasn't upset, "To tell the truth I'm surprised it hadn't happened earlier as m9m had been after you for quite a while! I know she was like she is since I was a kid, she has had more woman in her bed than I ever even thought about! He said. Did you know Mattie had a gay lover in college? Mark told me!" "Id heard something about that!" Said Holly. "Maybe we should get my mom and Mattie together maybe she will leave you alone!" Said Joe. "Probably it would be a threesome!" Thought Holly. They got their three kids up and out the door to school all 3 kids and mom and dad were diapered. Joe went to work and her and Mattie had appointments with their OB-GYN about their pregnancy they were getting with in the second trimester in their pregnancy. They were both asked8t there was any change in their incontinence, nope no change in that department. They were both fine progress in their pregnancy. They actually went out and shopped this time they had sex with each other and Gloria yesterday, today was a day of rest for them. -
Just a quick update: I’m very close to my next chapter. It may not be ready tonight, but it’s close. The chapter turned out a little differently than I originally intended. I thought it would be about Reggie falling into a routine, but instead it became about his strategic surrender to his mother’s control. I think I’ve kept Mom’s character consistent, but I’ve had trouble pinning down exactly what she is. She’s narcissistic, certainly, but she’s also calculating, controlled, and frighteningly disciplined. While editing, I realized I was writing a kind of cold, political narcissism. It’s not a direct comparison to Margaret Thatcher, but she has the same quality of controlled authority and emotional calculation. Mom is cold and unemotional, but she knows how to use emotion when it benefits her. She is the scariest mother figure I’ve written. She isn’t conventionally cruel, but in some ways, that may make her worse. -
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