Trading Post

With some help from @NorthShoreAdam (he sent me the cheat code) and the head of my local VA Pharmacy, I am now getting MegaMax Lite diapers monthly.

I have had to deal with one messy diaper in public, it was not the easiest but I went as I was trying to transfer from my wheelchair to the toilet, all the other times it has happened in public I have waited until I got home and cleaned up and changed there as I have generally been on the way home when the urge hits, so I would say I do have some bowel incontinence already.  There was another time when the temptation was really strong because I was staying in a hotel with a ridiculously high bed which was tricky and tiring to transfer on and off of which made it tempting but I didn't have the right supplies in wipes or a disposable bed mat to make it feel safe

I'm bladder incontinent t myself too, and it does happen that I poop in my diaper because I cannot hold it in. However I have to admit that although yes, it’s comfortable in a way that I can let go, and I only have a soiled diaper and some major cleanup to do, I’m quite happy I’m not bowel incontinent in a way, that it always end up in my diaper…a wet diaper is easy to deal with when out and about, but a poopy diaper, that’s a completely different can of worms.

Chapter 8 Emma guides me into the office with a steady hand, Louise close behind. My heart is pounding so hard I can feel it in my throat. The laptop sits exactly where I left it — closed, silent, accusing. Emma nods toward it. “Go on, James.” My fingers shake as I lift the lid. The screen wakes instantly, the last page still open. Louise leans in first. Her breath catches. On the screen is the website for The Retreat — the same page I found earlier in the week. Clean layout. Soft colours. Calm language. Nothing inappropriate. Nothing dangerous. Just… honest. “A private therapeutic service for adults overwhelmed by responsibility.” “Structured emotional support.” “Safe regression techniques for stress relief.” “All clients must be over eighteen.” Louise reads every line slowly, her eyes narrowing not in anger but in dawning understanding. Emma steps closer, arms folded gently. “This is what I meant,” she says quietly. “He wasn’t looking for anything harmful. He was looking for help.” Louise scrolls with trembling fingers. There’s the list of caregivers. There’s M’s profile. There’s the description of the program. There’s the appointment confirmation email open in another tab. She clicks it. The message expands: “Saturday, 3 p.m. Your caregiver will be M. Please arrive wearing the comfort garment provided.” Louise’s hand flies to her mouth. Not in disgust. Not in horror. In shock — and something like heartbreak. “Oh, James…” she whispers. My chest tightens painfully. “I didn’t know how to tell you.” Emma steps in gently. “Lou, look at the language. This isn’t… anything inappropriate. It’s therapy. It’s structured. It’s supervised. It’s for adults who are drowning and want to be a baby.” Louise scrolls again, reading the section titled: “Why Adults Seek Regression Support” – Chronic stress – Emotional burnout – Feeling unsafe expressing vulnerability – Fear of disappointing loved ones – Difficulty coping with responsibility Louise stops reading. Her eyes fill. She turns to me slowly. “Is this… how you’ve been feeling?” I can’t speak. I just nod. Louise presses a hand to her chest, as if steadying herself. “Why didn’t you tell me you were hurting this much?” My voice cracks. “Because I didn’t want you to think I was failing.” Louise shakes her head, tears threatening. “Failing? James, you’ve been carrying this alone. That’s not failure. That’s… that’s suffering.” Emma steps closer, her tone calm but firm. “Lou, he needs support. Real support. And you’re going to need help learning how to give it.” Louise wipes her eyes, nodding slowly. Emma gestures toward the screen. “This isn’t something to be ashamed of. It’s something to understand.” Then she looks at me — steady, practical, unflinching. “And now that we’ve seen it,” she says softly, “we can start helping you properly, Come on Baby time to go Learn.” Louise reaches for my hand. Her grip is warm. Shaking. But sure. And for the first time all day, I feel like I’m not standing on the edge of a cliff alone. Emma watches Louise absorb everything on the laptop screen — the website, the emails, the language about overwhelm and structured support. Louise’s shoulders rise and fall with a shaky breath, her hand still wrapped around mine. Emma steps forward, her voice calm and matter‑of‑fact. “Lou, you’re not going to be able to do this alone. Not at first.” Louise looks up, eyes red but steady. “I… I want to help him. I just don’t know how.” “That’s exactly why I’m saying this,” Emma replies. “You need someone who already understands routines, emotional cues, how to keep things calm, how to manage someone who’s overwhelmed. Someone who’s doing it every day.” She nods toward the hallway, where her six‑month‑old is still sleeping peacefully in the pushchair. “I’ve got a baby. I’m already in the rhythm. Feeding schedules, naps, soothing, structure — it’s second nature to me now.” Louise frowns slightly. “But that’s different. James isn’t—” Emma lifts a hand gently. “I know he’s not a real baby. That’s not what I’m saying. But the skills overlap. When someone is emotionally overloaded, the basics matter: routine, reassurance, calm, predictable care. You’re going to need support learning how to do that for him.” Louise looks at me, then back at Emma. “So what are you suggesting?” Emma takes a breath, then says it plainly. “I can move in for a bit.” Louise blinks. “Move in?” “Just temporarily,” Emma says. “A few weeks. Long enough to help you get the hang of things. Long enough to make sure James isn’t left alone with all this. Long enough for you to learn how to support him without burning yourself out, And most importantly long enough that you know how to change his nappies and feed him and learn his routine.” My chest tightens. “Emma, that’s… that’s a lot to ask.” She shakes her head. “It’s not. I’ve got maternity leave. I’ve got the baby. I’ve got the experience. And honestly?” She gives a small, wry smile. “It might be good for me too. I could use the company and practise with 2 babies.” Louise looks torn — overwhelmed, grateful, unsure. “You’d really do that?” she asks softly. Emma nods. “Yes. Because you’re my best friend. And because James needs stability right now, not guilt. And because you need someone who can guide you through this without judgment.” She turns to me, her expression gentle but firm. “And you,” she says, “need to stop thinking you have to hide everything. You’re not broken. You’re exhausted. And exhaustion needs care, not secrecy.” Louise squeezes my hand, her voice barely above a whisper. “If Emma moves in… we can do this together. Properly. Safely.” Emma glances toward the pushchair, then back at us with a small, knowing smile. “And besides,” she adds lightly, “I’ve already got one little one on a routine. Adding another won’t be the end of the world.” Louise gives her a look — half exasperated, half grateful. And for the first time since this all began, the room feels less like a crisis… and more like the beginning of a plan, I stand in shock and my face goes redder and redder each breath I hear. Chapter 9 Emma closes the office door behind us, her expression shifting into something calm, organised, and quietly authoritative. She’s still holding her baby monitor in one hand, the soft static hum filling the silence. Louise stands beside me, still shaken but determined. I can feel her fingers brushing mine, hesitant but present. Emma takes a breath. “Alright,” she says, her tone steady. “If I’m going to help, we need to be clear about what this actually means.” Louise nods slowly. “Okay.” Emma looks at me — not unkindly, but directly. “James, you’ve been carrying too much for too long. You’re exhausted. You’re overwhelmed. And right now, you need structure more than anything.” I swallow hard. “I… know.” Emma continues, her voice gentle but firm. “When someone is emotionally overloaded, they don’t need lectures or pressure. They need predictability. Routine. Clear expectations. The same things I use with my little one — not because they’re a baby, but because structure calms the nervous system.” Louise listens intently, absorbing every word. “So,” Emma says, “here are the immediate ground rules if I’m going to help you both.” She holds up a finger. 1. James isn’t making decisions at all right now. “Not because he’s incapable,” she clarifies, “but because he’s overwhelmed. Louise, you’ll take the lead on day‑to‑day choices until he’s steadier.” Louise nods, glancing at me with a soft, worried expression. Emma raises a second finger. 2. Routine comes first. “Meals at set times. Rest at set times. Breaks from screens. No surprises. Predictability is going to be your best friend.” I feel my shoulders loosen slightly — the idea of not having to think so hard is strangely relieving. A third finger. 3. Emotional check‑ins. “Lou, you’ll ask him how he’s feeling at regular intervals. And James, you answer honestly. No hiding. No pretending.” Louise squeezes my hand gently. Emma lowers her hand, her voice softening. “And finally…” She steps closer, looking between the two of us. 4. You treat him with the same patience you’d give a baby. she says firmly. “someone who needs gentleness, reassurance, and clear boundaries.” Louise exhales, relief and understanding mixing in her expression. “I can do that.” Emma nods. “Good. Because this only works if you’re both committed.” She glances toward the hallway where the pushchair sits, her baby still sleeping peacefully. “And since I already live in this rhythm with my little one,” she adds, “it makes sense for me to move in for a while. I can guide you through the routines, help you recognise the signs, and make sure neither of you burns out.” Louise looks at her, eyes softening. “Emma… thank you.” Emma smiles. “You’re my best friend. And James deserves support, not shame.” Then she turns to me, her voice warm but firm. “We’re going to get you through this. One step at a time. But you also have to play the part so you also need to learn to be a Baby in every way” And for the first time in a long while, I believe her. Emma Pipes up "Right lets get this Baby fed then" Louise takes James hand like a toddler again and led him towards the Living room, Emma slightly ahead grabs a normal chair and places it by the side of the table, and then goes into the kitchen to rummage in her bag. James senses are heightened as Louise guides him to sit down onto the chair but backwards so his legs dangle through the opening at the back. His eyes follow every movement she makes, especially when she joins Emma in the kitchen and reaches for the small tub of baby food. The late‑morning light streamed through the window, catching the fine wisps of hair on his head and giving him a soft halo. Emma smiles warmly at the sight of Louise preparing the meal. “You’ve got him set up perfectly,” Emma said, easing herself into the chair beside him. “That’s half the battle — making sure he feels secure.” Louise let out a small breath. “I always worry I’m going to do something wrong.” Emma laughed softly. “Every mum and every caregiver feels that way at first. But look at him. Babies this age love mealtimes. It’s like a whole adventure for them.” Louise opening the Jar and looking at the label read that it was Spaghetti Bolognese. She hesitated but dipped the spoon into the puree, glancing at Emma for reassurance. James opening his mouth before the spoon even reached him cause Emma gave him a stern look. The moment the food touched his tongue, he made a delighted little Yuck sound that made both women smile. “He’s a good eater,” Emma said. “Just take it slow. Let him set the pace. Remember James this is your Lunch so you wont be getting anything else.” James reached out with hands, trying to grab the spoon, the tub, anything within reach to stop the ordeal. Louise laughed, gently guiding his hands away and offering another bite. A smear of food ended up on his cheek, James went to wipe it off when suddenly a sharp slap from Emma. "Ah Ah don't make us tie your hands together, Babies don't wipe off mess" she scowled, I shifted in the chair and started to behave by taking each bite of the Puree that was fed to me. My mind shifted to how i got in this position and if this is what i actually dreamt about. As they continued, Emma shared little tips — how to angle the spoon, how to read his cues, how to keep the atmosphere calm and positive. Louise listened intently, grateful for every bit of guidance. Emma had a way of explaining things that made everything feel achievable, even for someone still finding her confidence. By the time the tub was empty, James was feeling the pressure build up in his Bladder. He shifted in his seat and Emma produced another Jar and exclaimed "Dessert time" Emma could sense what was going to happen where as Louise was oblivious to the Potty dance and just kept telling him to stop moving. Emma coldly turned to him and said "Let it go James, It will hold trust us" “You’re doing brilliantly,” Emma said to Louise. “Honestly. He’s happy, he’s fed, and he trusts you. That’s everything.” Louise felt her shoulders loosen. Maybe she really could do this. Louise wiped his face with a soft cloth, feeling a quiet pride settle in her chest. As Louise finished wiping James’s face, His expression changing in that subtle, unmistakable way babies have when something is happening in their little world. His eyes softened, his body relaxed, and he gave a tiny sigh. Emma noticed immediately. She had that instinctive awareness that came from caring for her own little one day in and day out. “That look,” she said with a gentle smile. “That usually means he’s Just gone wee wee in his Nappy. Anyways after a meal, babies often get sleepy pretty quickly.” Louise glanced at James, who was now blinking slowly, Face red with embarrassment and the energy of being fed made him exhale his resistance. “He does seem tired,” Louise murmured, brushing a hand over his soft hair. “Exactly,” Emma replied. “This is the perfect moment for a nap. He’s full, he’s comfortable, and he’s already halfway there. Modern nappies are designed to keep them comfortable long enough for a good rest, so you don’t need to rush. Just focus on helping him settle.” Louise guided him gently from the chair, James as he stood up felt the Nappy beneath his Jeans swelling up the fresh wee. Louise same again pulls on his hand towards the Living room Emma guided her toward the quiet corner of the room — a cosy little space with a soft blanket, Suddenly we stopped and Louise told me to lie down. I slowly got onto the floor in the corner on top of the Soft blanket “Hold him close and lie next to him,” Emma said softly. “Babies love consistency. They pick up on your calm.” Louise kneels and eventually lies next to me stroking my hair. James responded instantly, his body relaxing even further, . The room felt peaceful, the kind of quiet that only comes when a baby is on the edge of sleep. “You’re a natural,” Emma whispered. “Look at him. He feels completely safe with you.” Louise felt a warm swell of confidence. Caring for James no longer felt intimidating — it felt meaningful, almost instinctive. And having Emma beside her, offering guidance without judgement, made the whole experience feel like a shared journey rather than a test. James in a sleepy state tries to Speak but feels a soft rubber being shoved into his mouth by Emma. "ooops nearly forgot the DumDum, Sorry I only have a pink one, But you did want a baby girl didn't you" she teased. Within moments, James was asleep, his breathing soft and even. Louise held him for a moment longer, savouring the stillness, before gently getting up, Emma and Louise chatted for a little bit before Emma left the house and said she will be back later with her and her baby things. Emma smiled. “See? You’ve got this.” Louise smiled back, feeling proud, relieved, and deeply connected — to James, and to the friend who was helping her learn.

Hi there, You wrote "his days in pull-ups would be just as numbered as Addy’s… if not more after tonight." That should be Katrina yes? Just wanted to check. Loving this story.