I was planning on publishing this as my second novel on Amazon, but it doesn't feel finished, and I can't figure where to go with it. Hopefully, some of you will enjoy it.
Do I Have To?
"Do I really have to?"
"I really think you should."
"But I don't want to."
"We've been over this."
"But I don't need them."
"Last night and the laundry I've been doing lately says otherwise."
"It won't happen again. I promise."
"I've heard that before."
"It's not fair!"
"Fair or not, I won't have you ruining my friend's bed."
"No!" I shouted. "You can't make me."
"David!" she said sharply without raising her voice. "That's enough. I think we both know I can make you. Now, get your butt on that bed, and keep your voice down. That is unless you want Sharon to hear you getting a spanking on top of the tantrum you've been throwing."
"You wouldn't," I blanched.
I looked into her steely eyes and slowly made my way to the bed. I lay down and gave her a pleading look. She simply grabbed the waist of my pajamas and began to tug. I gave in and lifted my bottom, allowing her to pull them down. She reached into my suitcase and pulled out the object of my dread. She had shown me the diapers before we left, but no matter how many times I saw them, I never got over just how big and thick they actually were.
I did and fought the urge to cry. She made short work of securing the diaper around my waist. She put the pajama bottoms back in my suitcase and locked it.
"If you behave yourself, you can have those back in the morning."
"You don't mean …"
"We'll see. Now, get in bed."
That was the end of a conversation that had been going on all day. Conversation, humph. Argument more like. It started when we were packing for the trip. I thought we were about ready when she brought out the package of diapers.
"Are those what I think they are?"
"Isn't that obvious?"
"What do you have those for?"
"You don't expect me to wear those?"
"I certainly do."
"You will. Now, hurry up. We're already late," she said, loading a number of the diapers into the case.
"I don't need them. I've only had a couple of problems."
"It started out as a couple of problems. It's gotten to be almost every night."
"Yeah, almost. See, it's getting better."
"I'm not going to wear them."
"You are going to wear them, and that's final. Now, get dressed."
She said all this so matter-of-factly that it made my blood boil. I stomped over to the suitcase and started taking the diapers out. I felt a sharp sting in my right bottom cheek. I shot up straight and turned around.
"You will put those back, unless you want some more." Her eyes were hard.
"No," I said with more confidence than I felt.
"David, put those back right now, or so help me …"
I stood my ground, hoping my trembling didn't show.
"Is that really the way you want to play it? Have it your way."
I thought I had won the battle. That feeling lasted only a second before pain erupted from my ear. She spun me around by it and threw me face down on the bed. There was a knee in my back and slaps were raining down on my underpants.
"Are you going to pack your diapers and stop fussing?"
"Fine. If that's the way you want it."
"No!" I screamed, as my underwear was yanked down.
After that, my words got less and less comprehensible until I was simply blubbering. Still not dressed, my belt was in handy reach to her. She put it to good use—good from her perspective anyway.
"Are you ready to do as you are told?"
"Yes," I sobbed.
"Good. Finish packing and get dressed. We're leaving in five minutes. Don't make me have to 'encourage' you. And you can start with the diapers. I'll be back for the case in just a minute. It had better be ready."
I hastily repacked the diapers and the rest of my clothes. True to her word, she was soon back, and after checking to see that I had indeed packed the diapers, she locked the case and took it downstairs. That left me a few minutes alone to nurse my bruised pride and bottom while I finished dressing. I found her behind the wheel of the car, waiting to get on the road. I climbed in the other side and sulked.
We couldn't have been on the road for more than five minutes before I started restating my position about why I shouldn't have to wear diapers. She didn't argue with me. She listened in silence. I felt encouraged that I was making my point, my reasoning becoming more shrill the longer I went on. I found I was repeating myself, and she had yet to utter a word. My tirade petered out.
After a minute of silence, she quietly asked, "Are you finished?"
"Um, yeah, I guess."
"Good. You've had your say. Now, I'm going to have mine. Like it or not, you have a problem. I've been extremely patient about it. I've even been the one to clean up after you. It's not going away. It's getting worse. We are going to be staying with my friend. I do not want you embarrassing me or yourself by wetting her bed. You are going to wear those diapers, and you are going to stop fussing about it. If you insist on being a big baby about it, I can treat you like one. That includes pulling this car over, spanking you again, and putting you in one of those diapers for the rest of the trip. I'm already not happy with you. Would you like to try your luck?"
The trip was mostly silent aside from some tunes softly playing on the radio. I stared out the window, opting to table the discussion for the time being. Occasionally, she nudged me and told me to stay awake, unless I wanted to put a diaper on and take a nap. Eventually, I faced forward, so she could see I was awake, and pouted.
If I had been eight or ten or even twelve, I suppose these events would be understandable. But I was not twelve, and the woman driving was not my mommy. I was thirty-two, and she was my wife.
When we arrived, Kathy, my wife, and Sharon hugged and air kissed like long-lost sisters. Sure, we lived far enough apart that they didn't see each other often, but they were on the phone at least once a week. I shook my head and got the bags.
"Sorry we're late," Kathy said. "Packing took a bit longer than I expected."
I had the impression that comment was aimed at me, but I ignored it.
"Don't worry about it. It's just so good to see you. I know how it can be. You should try it with a baby sometime. I still can't believe the amount of stuff I had to get ready for Phil to take Abby for the week."
I tried to picture Sharon's ex taking care of a baby on his own. I don't know if I found the images more funny or frightening. Oh well, maybe one of his girlfriends will help him out.
"Yes," Kathy mused. "Packing for a baby can be a lot of work."
I was sure that was directed at me. Again, I chose to ignore it.
"Come on inside. Dinner's almost ready. Dave, you can take those right upstairs, first door on the right. You know the spot."
When I came downstairs, Kathy asked, "Did you wash your hands?"
I didn't like the way they both giggled.
"Yes, I washed my hands," I replied irritably.
"Don't be grumpy. I was just asking."
Dinner was a long drawn out affair. Kathy and Sharon went on and on about this one and that one. I was mostly ignored, which suited me fine. I didn't have the slightest interest in whoever and whatever they were talking about. Mainly, I just picked at my food and drank more than my share of wine.
During a lull, Sharon turned to me, "So, Dave, what's new and exciting with you these days?"
"Nothing much," I mumbled.
"Don't mind him," Kathy interjected. "I think he's just overtired from the trip. I'm sure he didn't mean to be rude."
Her accusing tone was not lost on me. "Sorry. I guess I am a little tired."
"I think we better get you into bed then."
"Why, Kathy!" Sharon exclaimed.
"I meant to sleep, you sex fiend," she laughed. "Come on, Davey, upstairs."
Whether it was the trip or the wine, I was tired. I bade Sharon goodnight and climbed the stairs ahead of Kathy.
"You go potty, then meet me in the bedroom," she said.
Not thinking, I did as instructed. When I got to the bedroom, I saw her laying out the diaper on the bed.
That's where you came in.
Kathy had me tucked in and started to leave to room. "Where are you going? Aren't you coming to bed?"
"Not just yet. Sharon and I have more to talk about, and there's most of a bottle of wine it would be a shame to waste. You go to sleep, and I'll be up in a while.
I lay there for a time, replaying the day in my head. If I hadn't been tired and buzzed, I might have been more upset. Every now and again, I would hear their raucous laughter. I did my best not to believe they were talking about my sleeping attire. My thoughts turned to how I got into this mess in the first place.
It started about month before. I had gotten a new boss, and it wasn't going well. Nothing seemed to please him. There was always something wrong, and no matter how small the problem was, he acted like it was the end of civilization as we know it. The harder I tried to anticipate what was wanted, the farther my attempts were from what he had in mind. I tried to get clearer instructions, but that only seemed to make him madder.
It was really taking a toll on me and, no doubt, on Kathy. I was a nervous wreck. I couldn't set work aside at the end of the day. All I could think of was what the next confrontation was going to be about. I was distracted and short tempered. Even my dreams were filled with anxieties about everything that had happened and visions of what might be ahead. When I was able to sleep at all, it wasn't good.
After a week of mostly sleepless nights, I found myself shaken awake by Kathy. I was completely disoriented and not hearing what she was saying. I don't know how many times she repeated it before it finally sank in.
"David, wake up. You wet the bed."
"You wet the bed."
I rolled toward her, and it dawned on me. I wet the bed. That's right. She said that.
Still only half awake, all I could say was, "I'm sorry."
Kathy told me to go to the bathroom and clean up, and she would take care of the bed. Still to fuzzy to think, I did as she told me. My wet pajamas cooled quickly as I went. I stripped off and sat on the toilet, trying to clear my head. By the time I was awake enough to push out the little pee I had left and get washed up. I was deeply embarrassed by what I had done. I almost wanted to stay in the bathroom just to avoid having to look at Kathy. When I did come out, she was smoothing out towels over the wet spot. I almost went back in.
"Good, you're finally back. Help me get the clean sheets on. Maybe we can still get some sleep before we have to get up."
I picked up the bottom sheet and shook it out. She signaled she was ready, and I fluffed it over the bed. The two of us made short work of remaking the bed, and I thought Kathy was being really good about the situation.
"Did you make sure to go peepee while you were in there?"
So much for that.
"Yes," I said, a bit more harshly than I intended.
"Don't get snippy with me. I'm not the reason we're changing sheets in the middle of the night."
"Sorry," I said, and I meant it.
"Me too. Let's go back to bed, and we'll forget all about it. Okay?"
"Okay," I said and hugged her tight. "I love you, and I am sorry."
"I love you too. Now, go to sleep. Morning's going to come awfully early."
That was easier said than done. I don't know how Kathy managed it. I lay there listening to her breathing, wondering how I could have wet myself and worrying that I might do it again. I think I drifted off just before the alarm went off.
Work the next day was miserable. Besides the usual grief from my boss, my eyes were burning, and my head was pounding all day. By the time I got home, I was an exhausted wreck. After pushing my dinner around the plate for a while, I told Kathy I was going to bed.
"I think that's a good idea. You had a rough night, and you look awful."
"Thanks a lot."
"You know what I mean. Go on. I'll clean up here. Don't forget to use the potty before you go night-night."
"Oh, come on. You know I'm joking. You may as well laugh as cry. It was just a one-time thing. Go get some rest, and I'm sure you'll feel better in the morning."
I nodded and followed her advice, even stopping to "use the potty" on the way. Totally wiped out, I was asleep as soon as my head hit the pillow. Not that it brought much rest. My dreams were the now usual of instant replays and anxious fantasies I had suffered for days.
"Wake up, David," I heard, before I felt the shaking. "David, wake up."
Once I realized it was Kathy, and not my mother trying to get me up for school, I sat bolt upright, panicking that I had done it again.
"I'm sorry," I blurted out. "I didn't mean to. I couldn't help it."
"It's alright, Dave," she said soothingly. "You didn't do anything. You didn't, did you? You were just having a bad dream. But as long as you're up, you may as well use the potty, just to be safe."
I apologized and kissed her, and then decided a pee might be a good idea at that. There was a small wet spot on my pajama pants, but the bed was dry. I didn't mention it, and if Kathy noticed, she was kind enough to let it pass. Having limited my fluids all day, I don't know where it all came from. I did know I feel a lot better when I climbed back into bed.
I slept better that night and felt more like my old self in the morning. That lasted for about an hour after I got to work. Then it was what had come to be business as usual. It was a particularly bad day. I was pushed and pulled in so many directions, I was beginning to doubt the sky was blue. If I had been thinking clearly, I probably would have guessed it was going to happen again. Kathy was again supportive and more patient than I felt I deserved. Again she got us cleaned up and back to sleep in short order.
I had a few good days, with no nighttime problems, even though things were just as bad, if not worse at work. I was starting to feel confident when it happened a third time. I was so frustrated I wanted to scream, and I think Kathy knew it. Once back in bed, she held me and whispered reassuring things until I went to sleep. The pattern continued, and I ended up having five wet nights in two weeks.
After the last of those, Kathy sat me down in the morning. "Dave, this … um … problem you've been having is not getting better. I think you should see somebody about it."
The thought of telling my doctor and friend, George Simmons, that I was wetting the bed filled me with dread.
"That's not really necessary. I'm sure it will stop on its own. It's not that big a deal."
"Says the man who's not washing the sheets. You're right. It may be nothing serious, but then again it might be. And, frankly, I'm getting tired of being woken up in the middle of the night and having to clean up after you. Get on that phone and make an appointment, or I'll do it for you."
"Alright, alright, I'll call."
I was greatly relieved when George's office told me they couldn't fit me in for at least two weeks. I begged off making an appointment, telling them that I was just feeling a little under the weather, and it would probably pass before they could see me. Kathy was not happy but understood it was not my fault, and she let the matter drop. Or so I thought.
That afternoon, I got a call from her telling me to meet her at Dr. MacPherson's office at 4:30. Having to tell my boss I needed to leave early while avoiding the reason was not a pleasant conversation to say the least. I was happy just to get out of there when the time came. At least, I was until I was on the way and started thinking about what was going to happen at the appointment.
Margaret MacPherson had been my doctor growing up. Her general practice had served all my family, and Kathy became her patient shortly after we were married. After college, when I had some voice in the matter, I insisted that seeing a female doctor was uncomfortable, and that's when I came under George's care. I was not looking forward to going back to her.
Dr. MacPherson—I never could bring myself to call her anything else—literally knew me inside and out. She had seen me through all my childhood illnesses, broken bones, acne, and everything else. To me, she would always be Dr. MacPherson. Kathy, on the other hand, having come to her later in life, always call her Margaret. They had become fast friends, and Dr. MacPherson was almost a surrogate mother to Kathy.
Kathy and I were called back shortly after I arrived. We were shown into a room where Dr. MacPherson was waiting for us.
"Kathy, how wonderful to see you! And Davey, just look at you, so grown up!" With her rosy cheeks, halo of white hair, and the soft Glasgow burr that never left her, it was impossible to be upset by her comment. She was everybody's favorite grandmother.
"Hello, Dr. MacPherson. It's nice to see you again."
"And you too, dear. How is your mother? I miss seeing her since she moved away."
"She's well, thank you. I'll tell her you were asking after her."
"Oh, yes, do. So, what brings you in today?"
I sat there trying to think of some way to tell her why I was there. I could feel my face getting redder and redder. Still, no words would come out. Finally, Kathy just took over.
"Davey," she said, using the same boyhood nickname, "has been having some problems keeping the bed dry at night."
There it was, right out on the table.
"Oh! Is your wee problem back, dear?" the doctor asked gently. She placed her hand on top of mine reassuringly, but couldn't avoid a small titter at her unintended pun. I'm sure Kathy had thought she was trying to be discrete about the issue, but it felt more like a mother trying to be gentle about a child's potty training setbacks. My mother had used almost those same words many years before.
"Back?" Kathy asked.
"Oh my, yes, dear," she said without regard for my embarrassment. "Davey was quite the little waterworks when he was a boy, weren't you, Davey. I wondered for a long time if we would ever get him out of nappies."
It finally dawned on her that this was extremely uncomfortable for me. I am sure that face was bright red. I could feel heat radiating from the blush.
"But that was a long time ago, wasn't it dear? What seems to be the problem?"
Without hesitation, Kathy began describing my symptoms as if I weren't in the room or too small to speak for myself. "He doesn't seem to be sleeping well. He's constantly tossing and turning, and he's always still tired when he wakes up. He's been distant and irritable, and every few days, he wets the bed."
"Oh, I'm so sorry. What seems to be the problem, Davey? Is something bothering you?"
With some prompting and a great deal of prodding, I told the whole story about what was going on at work. Kathy knew or guessed some of it, but I did not want to let on just how bad it really was. Once they got me to open up, it all came pouring out. The exhaustion and that day's fight with the boss caught up with me, and I was sobbing by the time I finished the tale. I was calming down before I realized Kathy had pulled my head to her shoulder, and she was stroking my hair and shushing me gently.
Dr. MacPherson's face was a mix of sympathy and anger. "It's just like that teacher you had all over again. Och, that woman! I'd still like to get my hands on her."
She told the story of Mrs. Hannity, my fourth grade teacher. She was nearing retirement and had a grandson who was a spoiled rotten little hellion. I had the misfortune of bearing him a striking resemblance, and she took out all complaints about him on me. I resented her accusations but came to half-believe that I was as bad as she made out. I fell into depressed and listless state, and my grades suffered. My mother asked me what was wrong, and I tried to tell her about my issues with the teacher and how unfair she was. My mother, of course, took the teacher's side and told me I had to stop being lazy and work harder, which is one of the things Mrs. Hannity accused me of.
It all came to a head one day when I turned in a half-completed homework assignment. I had fallen asleep over the paper and didn't have time to finish it before school. Mrs. Hannity went on a tirade the likes of which I had never seen, not only about the homework but about the messy state of my desk and anything else she could think of. When she dumped my desk over onto the floor, I was so shocked and scared, I wet my pants. That stopped her ranting but infuriated her all the more. She went silent and the color rose in her face. She grabbed my ear and dragged me to the office. She told them she would not suffer a baby like me in her class. I sobbed and sobbed while the secretary called my mother. I was still in tears, shivering in my wet pants when she arrived.
The ride home was no better, as she went on and on about how ashamed she was to have a boy my age wetting his pants in school, how I was going to have to apologize to everyone involved, and how was she ever going to be able to show her face again. I ran into the house, crying my eyes out. I stripped out of my wet clothes and threw myself on my bed and bawled my eyes out. It was all so unfair.
I must have cried myself to sleep, because my mother was gently trying to rouse me. She appeared considerably calmer and asked me what had happened. I told her the whole story in lurid detail. The more I told her, the angrier she got but not at me. She took me in her arms and told me how sorry she was. When we had both settled down, she told me to wash up and get dressed. We were going back to the school. I begged her not to make me go. She told me not to worry about it, I would not have be in Mrs. Hannity's class ever again, if she had anything to say about it. I followed with great reluctance as she strode into the office.
"I want to see the principal. Now!"
I had never seen my mother so forceful, not with adults anyway. I don't think the secretary had either, because we were shown into Mr. Mellon's office almost immediately. My mother really gave him an earful about all that had done on. I was mostly ignored except to fill in some blanks and details. Mr. Mellon promised an investigation and said I'd be put into Miss Sanderson's class for the duration. For the year, my mother insisted and got her way.
I don't know the full extent of what happened. I did have to tell the story one more time to some people I didn't know. Shortly after that, Mrs. Hannity "got sick," and we heard she was taking an early retirement. I felt and did better in Miss Sanderson's class. I think I even developed a little crush on her.
Unfortunately, the damage had already been done. From the day of the incident until a long time after, I had nightmares about it and started wetting the bed. Today, we would call it post-traumatic stress disorder, but not back then, especially not with children. My mother was patient for a time, but it was short-lived. She took me to Dr. MacPherson, who recognized the problem and was sympathetic to both of us and assured us it would pass in time. There was little she could do, however, and her only recommendation was "night nappies," as she put it, until I got over it. Despite my protests and promises not to let it happen again, my mother agreed there was no other option. She insisted that she was as embarrassed about it as I was, but I didn't think that was possible.
That was the first of many night my mother put me in a diaper. It did not come without an argument and a couple of slaps on my behind. The nightmares eventually stopped but the wetting didn't. I was in middle school before I was reliably dry and the diapers were a thing of the past. Nevertheless, my mother kept a waterproof cover on my bed through high school, "just in case."
Now, here I was again, facing the same problem for much the same reasons. Dr. MacPherson was again sympathetic and reassuring, but her solution was the same. She prescribed some antidepressants and anti-anxiety medication, but until I could deal with the stressors, I could expect more wet nights. The best thing was to start wearing nappies to keep the bed dry and allow us both a decent night's sleep. She recommended we get them from a medical supply store, as the ones to be found in supermarkets and pharmacies were virtually useless. She recommended a shop that could also fill my prescriptions.
"Don't worry, dear," she comforted me. "I'm sure you'll get over it, and you'll be all dry in no time, just like before."
Knowing how long that "before" lasted, I was not reassured. Kathy thanked Dr. MacPherson for both of us and promised to call her to have lunch soon. Dr. MacPherson bade us goodbye and made me promise to send her regards to my mother.
Kathy drove us to the medical store. I begged her not to make me wear diapers. It was like reliving the argument with my mother all those years ago. Kathy would have none of it and insisted I go inside with her. There, she handed over the prescription and proceeded to ask the lady about "nighttime protection." She lady asked a lot of, to my mind, unnecessary and intrusive questions. Kathy went into lurid detail about the problems I was having and how heavily I wet. She insisted we should buy a whole case of their most absorbent product, saying she would take back any unopened packages if things cleared up in a short time, but the case lot was far more economical if the problem persisted. Kathy agreed, and I had to carry a huge box of all too conspicuously labeled "adult briefs" to the car.
I took up the argument again at bedtime. It was just like been ten years old all over again, me begging and promising to wet anymore, Kathy reasoning that I couldn't make that promise, and she wanted a good night's sleep. It all got rather heated until Kathy gave me a couple of swats on the behind and told me that was enough. I was again the little boy at the mercy of his mother. I lay down and let her put the dreaded thing on. Memories flooded back as she raised the thick padding between my legs. I was weeping when she fastened the last tape and gave the front a pat.
I lay awake for a time, feeling sorry for myself, but the drugs kicked in, and I soon drifted off. I'm pretty sure I had nightmares again, mixed up visions of my boss and Mrs. Hannity. I panicked when Kathy shook me awake. I quickly felt for the felt for the wet spot and blurted out that I didn't wet the bed. Kathy told it was just time to get up, and I realized there was sunlight coming in the window. I was relieved until Kathy gave my crotch a squeeze. We both knew in an instant that I had not had a dry night.
Not dry at all, I realized when I stood and the diaper sagged between my legs. It was with a good deal of depression that I took it off and had my shower, and I still had work to look forward to. It was hard to think of anything else that day, and my boss was no better than usual. The only thing that got me through was the thought that I would be leaving for vacation that afternoon. I had used some accumulated sick time to take the extra half-day off for the drive to Sharon's house. I was happy to leave the office and my boss behind.
Those were my thoughts as I drifted off.
Soon enough, I felt Kathy climb in next to me. She curled up against my back, and I felt her hand work around to the front. She squeezed my crotch, and I thought she was up to something good. Then I heard her whisper.
"You'll last till morning."
Whereupon, she rolled over.
I was too much asleep to fully comprehend what she meant. There must have been a part of me that did understand, as I slept fitfully after that. I have vague recollections of dreams wherein I was being scolded by my mother for wetting my pants … again. When I felt Kathy shaking me awake, I didn't feel much more rested than when I went to sleep. To top it off, my head was pounding.
"Good thing we put that on you. I hope that satisfies you that I know what I'm doing, and we won't have a problem again tonight."
I felt the squish when I rolled over, as well as a pounding in my skull. I couldn't bear to look at her, but I managed to mumble a dejected, "No."
She reached down and undid the tapes. I tried to help, but she just swatted my hands away.
"Why don't you go take a shower? I'm sure it will make you feel better. There's coffee waiting when you're done."
She handed me my pajama pants, and I took her up on her advice. The shower did help. I felt almost human when I got out. If only that guy would lay off the drums. Not ready for the rigors of getting dressed, I returned to my pajamas and a robe and went downstairs. Coffee, lots of it, finished the job. By the time I had had something to eat, I was moderately ready to face the day.
"Okay," Kathy said. "Get dressed. We're going shopping."
I groaned, showing none of the enthusiasm she had. "Shopping? Really? Do I have to go? I'm still tired, and my head hurts."
I admit it. I was whining.
"Yes, you have to go. You're not going to just waste the day or get into who knows what kind of trouble. Besides, it's your own fault your head hurts. Now, upstairs; scoot."
"You know," Sharon intervened. "He does still look a little green behind the gills."
That made me like Sharon a little more.
Kathy looked me over. "Hmm, maybe. We'll discuss it while he gets dressed. Let's go."
Kathy shut the bedroom door, and I turned to her. "Don't make me go. You know I'll be useless and bored, and I really don't feel all that well."
"You do look a little under the weather," she conceded. "Though I don't know why you should be rewarded for tying one on last night."
"It's not a reward. Trust me, I'm being punished for last night. Please let me stay here. You two will have a lot more fun without me."
"You're probably right at that. But I'm not so sure about leaving you here alone. If you're as tired as you say you are, you'll probably take a nap, and that risks Sharon's furniture. No, you'll just have to come along."
"Please, honey, I'll stay awake, I promise. Besides, I never have problems during the day."
"That's because you don't sleep in the day. I think it's best you come along."
"Aww! Please don't make me. Nothing will happen; I promise." I gave her my best puppy dog eyes.
"Well," she considered, "I suppose there might be one way."
"Yes! Yes! Whatever you say. Just don't make me go with you."
"You're sure now? It really means that much for you to stay here?"
"Yes! Absolutely. I'll do it."
"Alright, but you insisted. There's no turning back now. Go potty, and we'll get your diaper on."
"That's the deal. You said you are too tired to go, and I can't trust you to stay awake or not wet in your sleep. If you stay home, I want you in a diaper. That way I can feel safe if you do take a nap."
"But I said I'd stay awake. I have work I can do. That'll keep me awake."
"We're on vacation. You shouldn't be working. Besides, we both know how well you stay on task without someone to watch you. No, diapers or shopping; it's your choice."
I was torn. It was bad enough having to wear them at night, but at least I could ignore them then. On the other hand, department stores, fitting rooms, girl talk.
"Fine. You win." And I went across to the bathroom.
The diaper was already laid out when I got back. Condemned to my fate, I took off my clothes and lay down. Kathy efficiently diapered me.
"Wait a second. What if I have to pee?"
"That should be obvious."
"But I'll be awake."
"This was your idea."
"It was not my idea! It was yours."
"Alright, maybe the idea was, but it was your choice, and it's been made. We're not wasting that diaper, just because you didn't think it through." She appeared to be thinking of something. She reached in her purse and pulled out a marker. Before I knew what she was up to, she was marking her initials over the intersections of the tapes and the plastic. "That'll make sure you don't try taking it off as soon as I'm out the door. If you do, I'll know, and you'll get that spanking, Sharon or no Sharon."
She got thoughtful again, and then she threw me for a loop. She pulled out another diaper.
"What are you going to do with that?" I asked, shocked.
"I'm going to double diaper you. I don't know how long we'll be out, and I can't take a chance of your leaking. The two should hold all your peepees. Up." It was obvious I was not going to win here. I let her put it on me. She used her long fingernails to poke a few holes in the inner one before taping up the outer. She repeated the trick with the marker. She gave the whole package as couple of satisfied pats. "There, all snug and safe and ready for your day. Now, since you claim you are not feeling well, I expect you to take it easy. Nap if you can. I want you feeling better, so we can do things together the rest of our stay."
"Okay," I sighed.
"Don't take that tone. You got what you wanted." I hadn't but didn't argue the point. "Get dressed and come say goodbye to Sharon and me."
Kathy left the room, and I stood up to dress. The bulk between my legs was incredible. A bowlegged waddle was all I could manage. I tried to put on some khakis, but it wasn't happening. I resigned myself to putting my pajamas back on and threw on my robe. Stairs aren't easy when you can't put your knees together. I had to take them one at a time, and each one was accompanied by a distinct rustling I really hoped only I could hear.
I stood as still as I could by the door and let the ladies come to me for a quick kiss and hug goodbye. Kathy surreptitiously patted my bottom and told me to be a good boy. I'm sure I jumped. I only hoped Sharon didn't notice, but her smile didn't make me optimistic.
I watched them drive away and wondered what I was going to do with myself. It was difficult to walk normally, and the crinkling, exceptionally loud to my ears, was distracting. I did have some work I could do, but I wasn't enthused by the prospect. I got out my laptop anyway and set up at the kitchen table.
After getting a cup of coffee and checking my email, all junk, I opened my work project. I stared at for fifteen minutes or so before closing it down again. I was on vacation and in no mood to work. Actually, I wasn't in the mood for much of anything. The double thick diaper kept me focused on my problems and my plight.
I figured, or hoped anyway, that I was not alone. Surely there were other men this happened to. Maybe there was some advice on how to handle the situation, preferably advice that did not rely on diapers. If I could show Kathy some alternative, maybe she would relent.
The internet was not coming to my rescue. Oh, there was some consolation in finding out that I was not the only adult who experienced bedwetting problems. Most of the information indicated that they were stress related and would eventually pass along with the stressors. There were other causes that were, quite frankly, kind of scary. I would have to consider seeing a doctor. Not my regular doctor. I thought I would die if I had to tell George about this problem.
The shock for me, though, was not the number of people who had the problem but the number who seemed to revel in it and the number who didn't have it but wanted to. The number of stories, true, fictional, or mixed, was staggering. Most seemed to fantasies, or mostly so. That of itself was cause for thought. The number of those where the problem was dealt with by the sufferers wife, girlfriend or mother enforcing the use of diapers was frightening. Apparently, I was not alone, either in diapers or in being spanked. At least some of the stories had to contain some truth.
While I was reading, my morning coffee was catching up with me. I made a vow that I would wait it out and show Kathy my wearing diapers was ridiculous, at least during the day. I was not quite so confident about nighttime. Unfortunately, the amount of coffee I drink, and the effects it has on my bladder, made me doubt my resolve pretty quickly. I held on for as long as I could, but after a couple of painful spasms and a look at how little time had gone by, I knew I couldn't take it.
The flood that followed was mind-blowing. As hard as it is to admit, the relief, after fighting the urge for so long, was almost orgasmic. That is until the reality of the situation began to sink in. I was sitting there in a soaking wet diaper, a grown man wallowing in his own pee. I could feel the wetness all around me, and I was sure that I had to have leaked. I stood up and checked the chair, bone dry. I checked out the diaper as best I could. Except for a few small spots between my legs, where I remembered Kathy poking holes, it showed no sign of what I did. I felt disgusted with myself but relieved I hadn't flooded the kitchen.
Under Kathy's implicit threat and my implicit promise, I knew I was stuck in this situation until they got back. I could only hope it wouldn't be too long and that Kathy would give me some warning of their return. It was going to be bad enough facing her, having wet myself. The idea that Sharon might notice was unthinkable. Having no way out of my predicament without making Kathy more mad at me, I went back to my research.
I decided to concentrate on how people like me felt about the situation. "People like me," there was a strange thought. Only hours before, I would have considered identifying a community of adults in diapers crazy. As expected, I found embarrassment, depression, and a fair amount of self-loathing. I did not expect to find so many people who gave every impression that they enjoyed being in diapers. I certainly never expected to find that group that referred to themselves as Adult Babies, people who actively sought out the opportunity to relive the experience of being toddlers or even younger. I found the pictures rather disconcerting. Was that where I was headed?
It was inevitable that I would have to pee again while I surfed away. The need was less pronounced, and the hour was getting later. Again, I tried to hold off. I hadn't lasted very long when the other effect coffee has started to hit me. I was not going to give into that one, but holding that back made the pressure on my bladder worse. Eventually, it came down to a choice of the lesser of two evils. I was already wet, so the decision to wet some more was not difficult. The feeling was not as intense as before, but I did feel a lot better, and the other urge seemed to abate.
I was hungry now, and made myself some lunch, just a quick sandwich and some juice. More coffee seemed like a bad idea. Eating took my mind off my troubles for the moment. It also made me sleepy. I felt that a nap might not be such a bad idea after all and went upstairs to lie down.
I guess I didn't realize how tired I was, as I was rather disoriented when I heard Sharon's bright announcement that they were home. I rolled over with a squish. I knew without looking that I had wet in my sleep, and the diaper was considerably fuller than when I came upstairs. I also realized my other problem was coming back with a vengeance. There was a deep rumble in my gut that would need attention and soon.
I was trying to shake off the cobwebs and figure out what to do when I heard footsteps on the staircase. That made me panic, which didn't help my situation any. The door swung open, and there was Kathy, thankfully alone.
"What's the matter," she asked, concerned.
"I … uh … hi," I said.
"You must have needed that nap," she said, walking over to the bed. "Any problems while we were gone?"
"Um … no … not really. Now that your home can I take this … thing off?"
"Yes, I think so. Just let me make sure you were a good boy and didn't mess with it." Before I could stop her she had the covers pulled back. I made a grab for my pajama bottoms, but she sharply slapped my hands. She wrestled the pants down while I begged her not to.
"Oh my god! It's a good thing I put you in two. You're soaked."
"Uh … yeah … you were gone a long time. Now please let me take this off. I have to go."
"I can't imagine you have anything left in you."
"Not that, the other."
"Oh! Does my little boy have to go poopy?" she asked with a little too much relish.
"Please, Kathy. This is hard enough."
"Aww. Is it hard to hold it? Do you want to make a boom-boom in your diaper?"
"Kathy, enough. Just let me up." I was getting desperate.
"Don't get snippy with me, Mr. Soggybottom. Go on, if you have to go so bad."
She got out of the way, and I leapt from the bed. I made for the bathroom and fell flat on my face. My pants were still around mid-thigh. The fall distracted, and I pooped a little. Please don't let it smell, I hoped. Kathy was at my side in a second, helping me to my feet. She pulled up my pants and gave my bottom a pat. I started for the door.
"Not so fast. Come back here."
"Kathy, I really need to …"
"Here. Now," she said, pointing at the floor in front of her. I clenched my cheeks and went to the spot. "Turn around."
I knew arguing about it was not going to get me anywhere. I did as I was told and hoped against hope that what I knew was coming wouldn't. It did. She pulled back the waistbands of my pajamas and diapers and looked down the back.
"I don't believe it. You did. You filthy little boy."
She grabbed my ear and started dragging me toward the bathroom. That painful shock and sudden unbalance caused me to drop more into the seat of my pants. I felt sick. Kathy slammed the bathroom door behind us.
"Really? Really? You actually pooped your pants. Unbelievable. What have you got to say for yourself?"
I tried to come up with an explanation. My mouth moved, but nothing came out. Kathy gave an exasperated sigh.
"Get those pajamas off."
I did and turned to put them on a hook.
"Did you go more?" She felt the back of my pants. "You did, didn't you? I can't believe you. Lie down."
I squatted down slowly, trying to minimize the additional mess this was going to make.
"Is everything alright in there?"
Sharon was at the door! In that position, it was all too much for me. Whatever was left in my bladder and bowels found its way into my pants. It was all I could do to hold back the tears.
"Yes, I guess so," Kathy sighed. "Just a little emergency we need to take care of."
"Nothing serious, I hope."
"Nothing a bath won't fix."
"A bath?" Silence. "Oh. Well, never mind. Come down when you're ready. I'll start dinner."
"Alright, stinker. Let's get you cleaned up." She started the bath running. That's when tears started. Thoroughly ashamed, I lay down and let Kathy untape the diapers.
"Oh, God!" she choked. "Why did you do that in your pants? Why didn't you just take it off?"
"You told me I couldn't!"
"I know didn't, but I didn't mean you should …" She rubbed her temples and took a deep breath. "Okay. I guess this is partly my fault. I could have thought it through better and been clearer with you, but only partly. You're having some difficulties with your bladder, and I understand the reasons for that. It's okay. I just put you in a diaper to protect you and Sharon's furniture. But you are certainly old enough to know you shouldn't poop your pants, no matter what I said. I can't believe you did that."
She sighed and dumped the poop in the toilet. "Just get in the shower. I'm getting a headache and can't talk about this now."
I got in and let the stink and humiliation wash off of me. Clean and smelling better, I was feeling somewhat better when I got out. Then I noticed the diapers were gone. What had Kathy done with them? I didn't know what I would have done with them, but they had to go somewhere. What if Sharon saw them? My head was spinning and my heart was pounding when I got dressed and went downstairs.
Sharon didn't say anything when I entered the kitchen, but her sympathetic smile was all I needed to know the cat was out of the bag. Avoiding eye contact, I mumbled hello and took a seat at the table. I spent the remainder of the evening trying to be as inconspicuous as possible. Despite knowing a diaper was in my future, I was almost looking forward to going to bed. When Kathy suggested I take my meds and make an early night of it, I had no objections.
"Meds? Are you sick, Dave?"
"No," Kathy explained for me. "Dave's been really stressed out at work, and the doctor just gave him something to get over the hump."
"Oh, is that why he's …" She stopped short. "Well, I just hope you start feeling better real soon."
I went upstairs with Kathy close behind. She closed the door behind us, and I turned on her.
"How could you tell her?" I said sharply, keeping my voice low.
"How could I not? I had to get rid of that diaper, and she was right there. There was no avoiding it."
"But she … How can I face … I can't …" My frustration mounted as I tried to speak. Grasping for words, my emotions got the best of me, and my eyes filled with tears. "I want to go home."
I sank down on the bed and cried. With my face in my hands, I sobbed, "Why? Why? Why? I can't do this anymore. I can't take it. I just want to die."
Kathy grabbed my head and forced me to look at her. "Don't you ever say that! I love you. I don't want to live without you. You are not to even think like that, do you understand me? If you ever say anything like that again, I swear, I'll spank you so hard …" She sat down and took me in her arms. She was crying too. "We'll get through this, together. Just don't ever think about leaving me like that. I love you so much."
We sat like that for a long time, holding each other and letting it all out. I was drained and hardly noticed when Kathy began to undress me. Filled with love for her I started to caress her.
"No, honey. I think we are both too tired for that tonight. Let's get your diaper on. It's been a rough day all around."
Disappointed but with no strength to object, I let her dress me. She got me a glass of water to take my meds, and she tucked me into bed. She held me until I went to sleep. I don't remember her leaving, but I sort of noticed her getting back in. I rolled over and snuggled close to her.
I was wet again the next morning but felt more rested. I was alone. There was a stack of clothes on the bed with a plastic bag and a note on top. "Get dressed and come down stairs. You can put your diaper in the bag and bring that with you."
I put the wet diaper in the bag, had a quick wash and got dressed. I wasn't looking forward to carrying the object of my shame downstairs, but I and it couldn't stay there forever. Sharon and Kathy were having coffee in the kitchen. I tried to dispose of the package as discretely as possible, but I think I only managed to draw more attention to myself.
"Honey, sit down. We need to talk about something." Here we go, I thought. This wasn't going to be good. Sharon brought me a cup of coffee. That helped some. "Sweetheart, I know you are really uncomfortable about all this, but I think we have to acknowledge the elephant in the room. We are all aware that you are going to have to wear diapers to bed for a while. There, I said it. Diapers, diapers, diapers. Pretending that you don't is making us all uncomfortable. Sharon understands, and so do I. It's not your fault; it's just the way things are right now. Your trying to hide from the fact is just creating more stress you don't need. So, as of now, we are going to stop walking on eggshells and simply accept your diapers as a fact of life. Among ourselves, we'll speak openly about them if needed, and we won't make a big deal about disposing of them. That will save us all a lot of worry and trouble."
I just stared into my coffee cup. I did not want to look at anyone, especially Sharon. I was fine pretending. Having to acknowledge the problem to someone else was not something I wanted to do.
"It's okay, Dave," Sharon said. "I know the pressure you are under, and I understand how you feel."
"How could you?"
"I see this all the time in my work. People come in all the time feeling overwhelmed by it all. They feel the whole world wants something of them they can't give. They feel powerless to change the situation or fight back. They react in all kinds of ways. All too many of them turn to drugs or alcohol, and that only makes things worse. All things considered, a little thing like bedwetting is not so bad."
"That's easy for you to say. You're not the one who has to wear …"
"Diapers. You can say it. You're not weak or lazy or whatever else you are telling yourself to bring you down. It's a stress reaction, nothing more. From what Kathy tells me about your boss, I'm proud of you for not turning to something self-destructive. You just need to find a way to deal with the stress, to let it go, to feel empowered. You feel helpless, and I'm sure you think the diapers prove it. On the contrary, by wearing them, you are taking control of the situation by the best means possible. By wearing them, you're getting rest; Kathy's getting rest; the bed is staying clean and dry. The way I figure it, you've taken a big first step in getting better."
"Thanks, I guess." I didn't really feel any better.
"Dave," Kathy said, "I think there's something else you should consider. There's no rush, especially as we are on vacation; so take as much time as you need. I think you should really think about quitting your job."
"I can't just quit."
"Not so fast, hear me out. Your boss is a bully. I'm sure he'll be found out eventually, but in the meantime, your life there is going to be miserable. I don't think you can really get better, if you stay there. You might learn to live with it, but at what cost? We've been doing alright. We don't actually need both our salaries. With a little bit of trimming, we can live on what I make. If it takes you a while to find something else, we'll make do. And I bet you could always get some work on a consulting basis. I'm not saying you have to quit, but it's an option, and you'll have my support. Just think it over."
"I can't just let you support me," I protested.
"You'd support me, if I had to quit, wouldn't you?"
"Why? Because you're a man? Look at the calendar. It's not the 1950s anymore. We're partners. We support each other, no matter what. If you never took another job and just stayed home and took care of the house, you'd still be supporting me. That's what we do. We have each other's back."
"But I'd feel so …"
"For a while, maybe," Sharon interjected, "but you'll get over that. I had a patient who went through much the same thing. He felt bad about it for a while, but once he got used to it, he loved being a househusband. He felt like he was making a real contribution. He was able to do things he never had time for. He makes a little money on the side from his hobbies. He's very happy. He says some of his friends tell him in private that they envy him."
"I don't know …"
"Just think about it. Take all the time you need," Kathy said. "A day, a week, a month, whatever you need, but think about it seriously. I think it would be good for you, but it's your decision. Whatever you decide, I'm behind you, but please, please, do consider it."
"Alright," I said, as much to end the conversation as anything.
"Good, it's settled." I didn't think it was settled at all but let it go. "Now, Sharon tells me there's an exhibition downtown that's right up your alley. Finish your coffee, and let's go."
The exhibition was as good as advertised. I don't know about the girls, but I had a good time. Model trains aren't everybody's cup of tea. Kathy knew my fascination, even though I hadn't had a set since I was a kid. I think she was bored after the first ten minutes, but she let me have the run of the gawk over them. She and Sharon feigned interest when I explained all about the different scales and old rail lines. They smiled and nodded, and then let me run off to the next display while they hung about to talk.
The rest of week was taken up with various activities. Some I enjoyed more than others, none as much as the trains. It was all a good distraction from my troubles and had me worn out by evening. Between the activity and the meds, I was getting some much needed rest. When I woke up dry on Friday morning, I thought I was turning a corner. Kathy praised me, which actually made me feel a little worse, but I took it in the spirit it was intended and didn't say anything.
That night, it was decided, we would stay in for movies and margaritas. I took it easy, because I didn't know how the alcohol would react with my meds. Kathy made up for it, drinking the rest of my share as well as her own. She was pretty toasted by the end of the evening. She knocked over her glass and cut here finger picking up broken pieces. I thought we might have to take her to the emergency room, but we got the bleeding stopped pretty quickly.
"Geez, that hurts," she slurred. "Um, Sharon? I'm not sure I can take care of Davey like this. Would you mind?"
"What!" Sharon and I said in unison.
"This really hurts, and I'm not sure I can work the tapes."
"I can do it myself."
"I don't know that you can, and neither do you. You've never done it before, and it has to be harder to put one on yourself than someone else. I don't want you leaking all over the place by putting it on wrong, and I'm sure Sharon doesn't either."
I looked to Sharon for support, but she had an amused grin on her face. She was actually warming to the idea.
"You're right, Kathy. A diaper isn't much good if it leaks all over. Sure, I'll help out. I'm sure Davey won't mind."
"It's not like she hasn't seen one before," Kathy said, anticipating my protest. "And it's just this one time. I'll be better tomorrow. You two go on upstairs. I'll clean up down here."
"Just put everything in the sink. You shouldn't get that finger wet. Come on, Davey. Auntie Sharon will get you ready for night-night."
"That's right," Kathy laughed. "You be a good boy for Auntie Sharon."
I didn't like being treated like a little boy, but I wrote it off to their inebriation. I took Sharon's outstretched hand and followed her upstairs. She went right to work getting a diaper laid out for me. I stood there unsure I could go through with it.
"Take off your pants, silly. We can't do anything with those on. Here, let Auntie help." Before I could react, she was undoing my pants and pushing them down. "Why, Davey! I'm flattered, but what would your mommy say?"
I was deeply embarrassed by my tumescent state, but her reaction to only made it worse. I started to apologize, but Sharon cut me off.
"Don't worry about it. Little boys are always doing that when they get their diapers changed. Now, let's get those clothes off, so we can get you all wrapped up. We wouldn't want any accidents, would we?"
Sharon was obviously more drunk than I thought. I hoped she, at least, wouldn't remember this in the morning. I told myself to just get through it, and finished undressing. I lay down on the open diaper and looked away, waiting for this to be over.
"Oh, it looks like baby is getting a bit of a rash, I'd better get some powder for that." She started to leave but tuned right around folded the front of the diaper up over me. "Just in case. You never know with boys."
She was gone for a few minutes, which was enough for me to subside a little. She had just walked in the door when we heard a thud on the stairs.
"Whoopsies," we heard between giggles.
"You alright out there?" Sharon asked.
"Yeah, fine. Be right up." There was another, smaller thump followed by more giggles. "Right up."
Sharon shook her head, smiling, and got back to work. She drew back the diaper and sprinkled the powder, quite a lot in my opinion. That brought me back to my previous state. She started to smooth it, and I whimpered. Kathy chose that moment to walk in the door.
"Davey, you naughty boy! I should spank you for that."
"Don't spank him. He just a little sweet on his Auntie Sharon, aren't you, baby? Besides, you know how boys are. Remember when we used to babysit my cousins?"
"Yes," Kathy laughed. "Roger especially. Did he get that from his father? Your aunt is a lucky woman."
"So she says."
All this talk was not helping my situation, neither was the fact that Sharon was still rubbing in the powder. Kathy sat down next to me.
"Is that true, baby? Do you have a little crush on Auntie Sharon? Do you like it when she rubs you down there? Oops! I guess you do!"
"Oh, dear. I guess we'll have to start over. I'll go get a washcloth."
Sharon wen to the bathroom, while I wished I could have died right there.
"I wearing diapers has an upside after all," Kathy giggled. I just hoped she would feel the same way when she was sober.
Sharon returned with a wet washcloth and with much greater efficiency had me cleaned up, powdered and diapered in no time. I got up to put on my pajamas and take my meds. Kathy was lying back and moaning a little.
"What about you, girlfriend? Are you going to be alright, or does Auntie Sharon need to put a diaper on you too? You don't look so good."
"No. I'm a big girl," Kathy slurred.
"Okay, but if you're wet in the morning, you'll be the one getting the spanking."
That image had me stirring again. I helped Sharon undress Kathy and get her into the bed. Sharon kissed my cheek and told me not to worry. We were all friends and more than a little drunk. I knew that wasn't true of me but recognized it was her way of saying the episode was nothing more than a little harmless fun. We said goodnight, and I climbed in next to Kathy.
I don't know if my dreams were more disturbing or exciting. I do know I wasn't anxious for them to end. I had visions of Kathy squirming across Sharon's lap when I realized those sounds weren't in my head. I turned to see Kathy gone and a good size wet spot in her place. I stumbled across the hall to find my dream a reality. Kathy was sprawled face down across Sharon's lap, pleading with Sharon to stop. Her obviously wet panties lay at her feet.
"I told you, you should have worn a diaper last night," Sharon said as she landed a slap to Kathy's already glowing behind. "Remember those parties in college. You should know better than to drink that much."
I shook my head, not believing what I was seeing. Sharon took notice of my presence.
"Good morning, Davey. You see what happens to little girls who don't listen to Auntie?"
"Oh no! Dave! Go away. Please."
"Quiet," Sharon said with another slap. "And don't think it can't happen to little boys either. Well, young lady, have you learned your lesson yet?"
"Alright, go get cleaned up, and bring those sheets down to be washed."
Kathy scrambled off Sharon's lap and fairly ran from the room, avoiding eye contact with me. I could hear her sniffling in the bathroom.
"You clean up too," Sharon instructed. "I'll start breakfast."
That brought my attention to the diaper hanging low on my hips. I wasn't making as much progress as I had thought. I passed Kathy in the bathroom door. She still wouldn't look at me. She must have worked fast, because by the time I was clean and fresh, the bed was stripped and she was nowhere in sight. I got dressed and found her in the kitchen helping with breakfast. She gave me a sheepish "good morning."
I hugged her and gave her a kiss that was far more than perfunctory. That seemed to brighten her spirits. We all sat down to breakfast as if nothing had happened. I really wanted to know more about what I saw this morning but figured that wasn't the time to ask. It would keep and was probably none of my business anyway. We tidied up the dishes slowly, none of us wishing the visit to end.
It was with no small amount of sadness that Kathy and I packed our things and said our goodbyes. We all promised to not wait so long till the next time, and for a change, I meant it. Despite the diapers and the embarrassment that went with them, I had a really good time.
We drove in silence for quite some time. I was lost in my thoughts. There was a lot that happened that week and a lot to think about. Mostly though, I thought about what I had witnessed that morning. Finally, I couldn't take it anymore.
"Kathy? Remember what you said about elephants in the room?"
"Yes," she sighed.
"What happened this morning?"
It took her a long time to answer. She tried to get me to drop it, but I kept bringing it back up.
"You're not going to let this go are you? Alright, fine."
You know Sharon was my sorority sister, right? Well, she was actually my big sister, a sophomore assigned to show a pledge the ropes and generally look after her. One of the things she did for me was to introduce me around. She was really popular and got invited to a lot of parties, and because she did, I did. It was at one of those parties that I got introduced to alcohol. I never drank in high school, and I avoided it the first couple of parties I went to. But it had been a rough week, and I gave in when somebody stuck a cup in my hand.
At first, I didn't realize there was alcohol in it. It just seemed like a really sweet punch with a funny aftertaste. I was well into my second one before I knew I was getting buzzed. It felt good. I wanted more. I kept drinking. About the time, I felt like I might have had too much, Sharon found me. She told me it was time to go back to the house. I don't think I would have made it without her. I'm sure I threw up at least once on the way.
I don't really remember getting back to the house and her dumping me on the bed. I do remember waking up the next morning. Sharon was shaking my leg, telling me to get up. I never knew sunlight could be so painful. It tasted like something died in my mouth, and somebody was beating my head with a hammer. I begged Sharon to let me die in peace. Instead, she pulled off my blankets. I was suddenly very cold.
"Oh, geez. Get up. We need to get this stuff in the wash."
"Get up. You peed the bed."
"You peed the bed. Get up."
"Oh my god. No!"
I started bawling.
"Oh, come on. It's not that big a deal. Half the girls here did the same thing the first time they got drunk."
"Great," I said dejectedly.
"Listen, get yourself cleaned up, take some aspirin, have some coffee and toast, and then we can talk about it. Okay?"
The shower made me feel a little better. I hadn't really learned to drink coffee yet, but the toast helped some. I found Sharon back in my room. She had stripped the bed for me and turned my fan toward the mattress. I had found the rubberized fabric of the mattress strange when I first moved in. Now, I understood why the sorority used them. It was somewhat comforting to know I wasn't the only one, but I still felt ashamed. Sharon hugged me and told me not to worry about it. I was the first, and I wouldn't be the last. It happens to everyone.
"It didn't happen to you."
"Okay, maybe not everyone, but I've had my share of nights worshipping the porcelain god." The image of Sharon with her head in the toilet did make me chuckle and a little less embarrassed.
"I swear, I'm never going to drink again."
"Don't make promises you can't keep. You just have to learn to pace yourself. You have to watch those fruity drinks. They go down really easy, and before you know it, you've already had too many. You don't have to stop drinking, if you don't want to. Just be careful."
I took my wet things down to the laundry room. I couldn't avoid passing some of the other girls. Most gave me sympathetic smiles, a kind of been there done that look.
I was careful at the next few parties I went to. I did drink some, but I went slow and never let it get beyond a mild buzz. That ended after midterms. I felt so relieved to have made it over that hurdle, I let myself go. Sharon took me aside and told me I should ease up. I told her I was fine and bumped into a wall. She told me to remember what happened the last time. I waved her off.
It was a good thing the party was at the sorority house, or I never would have made it home. As it was, Sharon found me the next morning on the floor of the bathroom. There was vomit in my hair and around the toilet bowl, and I was lying in a puddle of pee. Sharon got me on my feet and into the shower. She didn't bother with my clothes. That first burst of water was a real shock, and I thought my head would explode, and really hope that it would. As the water warmed, I started to feel human again. I got undressed and washed the assorted fluids of me. Sharon was waiting for with a towel.
"Thank you," I said, drying off. "I feel awful. Never again."
"You said that before. You should feel awful. You were really pounding them last night. You deserve that hangover. But listen, drinking like that isn't good for you; in fact, it's dangerous. Even if the alcohol doesn't kill you, you can do all kinds of crazy things to get hurt or let someone hurt you. And it sure isn't any fun for me, having to clean up after you."
"I know. I'm sorry."
"Yeah, yeah, save it. You're sorry, because you head hurts. But if you did anything to hurt the house while you were like that, it would be my ass on the line too. I'm responsible for you."
"I didn't know. I'm sorry."
"Well, just think about it. And think about what would happen if you got in real trouble. What if you got called in front of the dean?"
I paled. "Oh my god. My mom would have my butt. I would be able to sit down for a month."
"Your mom still spanks you."
"Well, she did last year, when I came home an hour after curfew. She might."
"Maybe that's what you deserve."
Her face was passive. I couldn't tell if she meant it.
"You're kidding right?"
"Get drunk like that again, and we'll see."
I was really good for the rest of the semester. I didn't let myself get more than a little tipsy. I did my work. My grades were good. I felt really good about myself. I had long forgotten that conversation in the shower. The end of term was my undoing. The night after finals, everyone was celebrating, including me. We had a grand old time. I again woke up with a horrible hangout and a wet bed. I was balling up the sheets when Sharon came to check on me.
"You did it again, didn't you? I told you to slow down, didn't I? But do you listen? No. 'I'm fine, Sharon.' 'Go away, Sharon.' 'Mind your own business, Sharon.' And look at you now, wet sheets and pissy pants. Remember what I said after midterms?"
"What? What are you talking about?"
"I told you what would happen, if you go this drunk again."
I tried to remember, but the pounding in my head made it hard.
"I told you deserved spanking then, and you'd get one the next time. This is the next time."
"You can't be serious."
"Oh, I'm very serious."
Sharon grabbed my wrist, sat down on the bed and hauled me across her lap. A softball player, she was really strong, far stronger than me. I didn't stand a chance.
"Sharon, no!" I screamed, as she whisked my panties down.
She didn't say a word as she lit up my ass. I screamed and squirmed and begged, but she didn't let up until I was limp and bawling. She stood me up and held me while I cried myself out. I told her I was sorry, and I really meant it.
"It's okay. It's all over now. Just don't let it happen again, or you'll get more of the same." She tilted my head up and looked into my eyes. "I love you, Kathy. I want you to be safe."
She kissed me, not a kiss, kiss, but more than a peck. Then she left me to take care of my laundry and pack for the holidays. It was a long, thoughtful, and uncomfortable bus ride home.
"Wow," was all I could think of. After digesting it for a bit, I could help asking, "Did it ever happen again?"
"The idea turns you on, doesn't it? Pervert," she chuckled. "If you must know, it did, but I'm not going into gory details."
"What about that kiss? Was there more than that?"
Kathy blushed and remained silent. I waited.
"Okay, yes, we … experimented, nothing serious. I decided I preferred men … mostly."
I filed that away. "What about Sharon?"
"She's more of an omnivore," Kathy said smiling. "But that's all you're getting. Have you thought about what we talked about? Your job?"
"Some. I haven't made any decisions."
The rest of the trip was idle chitchat and discussion of things we should do before the weekend was out.
Although I had two more wet nights, I returned to work on Monday feeling better … for about ten minutes. That's how long it took for my boss to start in on me. He actually had the gall to berate me for taking the week off, time I had earned. That was the last straw. I spent my lunch hour writing up a formal complaint and delivering it to Human Resources. I told them, if they didn't do something about him, they could have my notice, and if they didn't want that, I'd take the sick and vacation pay I had coming, and they could have their job.
The rest of the afternoon was a flurry of meetings and discussions about me and my boss. Some of them got pretty heated. A review of my work showed that I was doing my job and doing it well. In the end, though, I was low man on the totem pole, and it was decided we would all be better off, if I applied my skills elsewhere. I was given a letter of recommendation and promised my back pay would be mailed at the next payroll date. For someone who, for all practical purposes, just got canned, I felt great when I cleaned out my desk.
Kathy got concerned when she came home and saw the box with my possessions by the door. "What happened?"
"I got fired," I said brightly. "Well, 'mutual separation' is what they wrote down in the file."
I gave her a blow by blow description of what happened that day with full color commentary. I may have embellished my part a little.
"Dave, I'm so proud of you. You did the right thing. I just wish that son of a bitch got what was coming to him."
"Not my problem anymore. His file is flagged. He'll get his someday. In the meantime and for the foreseeable future, you have yourself a little housemaid."
"Don't give me ideas. You might look good in a French maid's uniform. I'm just glad you are out of there. Let's go. I'm taking you out to dinner."
"Shouldn't we be watching our pennies? I am out of a job now."
"We will, but tonight, we celebrate. This is a new beginning."
And we did, a great meal, some nice wine, and it didn't end there. We practically ran up to the bedroom, clothes flying as we went. It was the most passionate we had been in quite a while. Afterward, Kathy got me diapered and curled up next to me.
"So what are you going to do with yourself, now that you have all this time on your hands?"
"I don't know. I have really had a chance to think about it."
"You should, you know. Idle hands and all that."
"I'm sure I'll think of something."
"I hope so. Little boys left on their own can get into all sorts of mischief." She was rubbing the front of my diaper.
"I'll be fine."
"I hope so. We wouldn't want Mommy to have to spank, would we?" I chuckled. "Would we?"
The question wasn't rhetorical. "No."
"No … Mommy?"
"That's right," she said, rubbing me harder. "You need to be a good boy for Mommy, or Mommy will spank."
I moaned, getting my second wind.
"Maybe I should get a babysitter to keep you out of trouble. Maybe Auntie Sharon would be available. She could make sure you're a good boy and change you when you are wet. I know you like that. But Auntie Sharon spanks hard; so you'd better be good."
That was it. The diaper came off for round two. I was barely awake when Kathy re-diapered me and kissed me goodnight.
The first week as a stay at home husband was great. I cooked, which I enjoyed but nave had time for. I did some minor repairs that I had been putting off for a while. I cleaned the house and did the grocery shopping. I didn't enjoy those so much, but they had to be done and weren't as bad as I imagined. Most of all, Kathy was really happy with me and lavished me with praise. The second week was not as good. It was harder to find things to do. Kathy noticed and brought my attention to some things that needed taking care of. By the third week, I was really starting to get bored.
Kathy and I were doing some gardening that weekend, when Mrs. Travers, our neighbor across the street came over, a sweet older lady. I never talked to her much, but she and Kathy were friends. She took Kathy aside, but couldn't help overhearing their conversation.
"I noticed David's been home a lot lately. Is everything alright."
"Oh, yes. He's taking some time off, maybe thinking of a second career."
"I was just concerned, the economy being the way it is and everything."
"No need to worry. We're fine."
"Well, if there is anything you need …"
"Same here. I'm sure Dave would be happy to help you out, if you need anything."
"Well, there are a few odd jobs I need done. I'd pay him, of course."
"Nonsense. What are neighbors for? Dave, come here a minute. Mrs.
"Oh, that's all right."
"Dave, Travers needs your help. You'll do that, won't you?"
"What is it you need, Mavis?"
"Well, I have a leaky faucet, and the gutters need tending."
"No trouble at all Mrs. Travers," I said. "Is tomorrow okay?"
"That would be fine, dear, if it's not too much trouble."
"No trouble at all. Ten o'clock?"
"That sounds fine. Thank you so much."
"It's settled then," Kathy said sealing the deal. "He'll be over at ten sharp. You remember to be a good boy for Mrs. Travers, Dave."
Mrs. Travers thanked us again but gave us awkward look as she went back to her house.
"You didn't need to say that."
"I was just having some fun. Can't you take a joke?"
I kissed Kathy goodbye the next morning, and she reminded me to be a good boy and be at Mrs. Travers' house at ten. I was there right on time, toolbox and ladder in hand. I decided to start with the gutters, before the day got too hot. They were worse than I imagined, and it took till past noon to get them cleared out. Mrs. Travers insisted on feeding my lunch.
The leaky faucet turned out to be a nightmare. It was an old fixture in the guest bath. I don't think anyone had worked on it since before I was born. There was a slow but steady drip that, judging by the calcium deposits on the fixture, had been going on for a long time. It was a chore just turning the shutoff valve and getting the handle off the valve, but when I tried to take out the stem to change the washer, the whole thing snapped. I informed Mrs. Travers and told her I would buy her new hardware. After a bit of an argument, I accepted that she would pay, I insisted on doing the installation. We went to the hardware store together, so she could pick out what she wanted. On the ride she told me all about her children and grandchildren, including the fact that the middle one was still wetting the bed.
I set to work on updating the sink. I soon wished that I hadn't offered my assistance. Every nut was frozen. Nothing was easy to reach. The room was so tiny, I couldn't even lie down comfortably to work. As is so often the case with plumbing, I was swearing at it under my breath. Then the wrench slipped. I hit my hand hard against a pipe. I sat up to grab it and bashed my head on the sink. I was loudly cursing a blue streak when Mrs. Travers came to check on me.
I was seeing stars and didn't resist when she helped me up. She led me to the kitchen and fixed an icepack for my head. She tended to my wounded hand, applying a Scooby-Doo Band-Aid.
"Sorry, dear, that's all I have. I keep them for the grandkids."
The room was still spinning when Kathy came over to check on me. I had no idea it had gotten so late. She gasped when she saw me.
"It's just a bump on the head, dear, but I think you'd better take him home. He's had a rough day. I'll just call a plumber to finish."
"No. I can do it myself."
"David, be quiet. Mavis, I'm sorry he was so much trouble for you."
"Oh, no trouble. I've tended to more than one skinned knee and bruised ego. But such language!"
"David, apologize to Mrs. Travers, right now."
"I'm sorry, Mavis. It won't happen again. But please, don't waste your money on a plumber. David will come back tomorrow and finish the job." She turned to me. "And he will watch his language, won't you?"
"Yes, ma'am." I meant that for Mrs. Travers, but I don't think either of them took it that way.
"Good. I'm sorry. He is usually much better behaved. Please let him come back."
"Alright," she said reluctantly. "If it means that much to him. But it's no trouble to get a plumber."
"I won't hear of it. David will be back first thing in the morning to finish what he started, and he'll be on his best behavior. If he's not, please tell me. Now, I'd better get him home and put him to bed."
I handed back the icepack and stood to leave.
"I'm sorry Mrs. Travers, and thank you for lunch."
"It's alright, dear. Get some rest, and you'll feel better in the morning."
Kathy took care of the goodbyes, and Mrs. Travers walked us to the door. I hoped when wasn't watching as Kathy gave me an earful crossing the street and landed a couple of hard swats on the seat of my pants. She took me straight upstairs. She got a diaper out and set it on the bed. She got her hairbrush and put it on top. She started undressing me and gave me a real dressing down.
"I'm ashamed of you, talking that way in front of a sweet old lady. What were you thinking?"
"I'm sorry. I hit my head and it really hurt."
"That's no excuse. You should know better. I have a good mind to wash your mouth out with soap."
"You can't do that!"
"Try me. If I ever hear something like that again, that's just what I'll do. As for right now, you're getting a good spanking to help you remember."
"What? You can't."
"You know very well I can. And unless you want me to use your belt on you, you'll get across my lap right now."
I remembered the bite of the belt and chose to follow her instructions. She didn't start easy, and she accompanied her task with nonstop scolding. But that was nothing compared to when she start in with the brush. I wouldn't have been surprised if Mrs. Travers hurt my cries from across the street. When I was bawling, Kathy told me to get up and marched me to the corner.
"You stay there and think about what you did."
I kept my face wedged in the corner, not wanting to incur any more of her wrath. I could hear her milling about the room, muttering. Then there was silence.
"David, why is your underwear wet?"
"You heard me. Why is your underwear wet?"
"What? I didn't."
She turned me around and held them where I could see. They were clearly damp.
"Did you or did you not wet your pants?"
"I don't know."
"Of course, you know! Look at these!"
"I guess, maybe a little. I don't remember. Maybe when I hit my head?"
"That's no excuse. You can't go around wetting your pants during the day. It's bad enough you do that at night."
"You said you didn't mind."
"You know what I mean. But daytime accidents are a different story. Do you need to be in diapers all the time? Do need to hire a babysitter? Maybe Mrs. Travers would like the job."
"I'm sorry," I cried. "It won't happen again."
"It had better not, or I'll have to rethink leaving you home alone. Lie down. You're going to bed right now."
"I have to go to the bathroom."
"Then go. At least, you remember some of your potty training."
I lay in bed thinking about what Kathy said. She wouldn't make me wear diapers in the daytime. It was just that I hit my head. But she did it before. That didn't work out well. Seriously, she couldn't really get a babysitter. I didn't know what to think. Between conking myself and what followed, I was exhausted and didn't last long. I had strange and fitful dreams. I was soaked the next morning.
Kathy was laying out clothes when I came back from the shower.
"Put these on." She handed me something I didn't recognize.
"What are these?"
I turned the puffy object over in my hands. "I'm not wearing those."
"Yes, you are, unless you'd prefer to wear a diaper. Of course, you'll have to bring a spare, incase Mrs. Travers needs to change you."
"Would you like to discuss it with Mr. Hairbrush?"
"Then get dressed. You have work to do."
The disposable underwear wasn't as thick or noisy as a diaper, but I still felt very conspicuous. I was feeling very contrite when Kathy rang Mrs. Travers' doorbell.
"Good morning, Mavis. I brought David over to finish his work. He's going to be on his best behavior today and not give you any more trouble. If he does, I'd appreciate it if you told me. And if he needs it, you have my permission to spank him."
"I'm sure that won't be necessary, dear," she said with a nervous laugh, no doubt hoping that was a joke. I knew it was and blushed hotly.
"Be a good boy, David. I'll see you tonight. And no swearing."
It took me all day and another trip to the hardware store for new shutoff valves, but I finally got the sink done. I even managed to keep from swearing out loud. I did end up quietly crying at one point from holding it in. When it was all done, I was quite proud of myself, and Mrs. Travers was pleased. I was finishing the snack she made me, when Kathy came to take me home.
"How was he today, Mavis?"
"Good as gold, dear. Good as gold. I don't know what you said to him, but it did the trick. And such a good job he did. The new faucets are just beautiful."
"I'm so glad to hear that. David, say thank you to Mrs. Travers."
"Thank you," I mumbled, my mouth filled with cookie.
"David, don't talk with your mouth full."
"It's alright, dear. He deserves his reward. If I could borrow him again, I might have some other jobs for him to do?"
"Anytime, Mavis. Anytime. I'm happy to have him here where somebody can keep an eye on him. But now I think it's time I get him home and fed, unless he's spoiled his appetite with your cookies."
"I only had two," I complained.
I saw Mrs. Travers hold up three fingers.
"Well, we'll see if we can get some real food in him anyway. David, finish your milk; it's time to go."
I downed the half full glass and wiped my mouth with my sleeve. I thanked Mrs. Travers for the cookies, and we headed home. Kathy told me she was proud of me for being a good boy. That made me feel good. But, she warned me, she expected no more bad behavior reports. She wrapped her arms around my neck and kissed me passionately. Then she stuck her hands down the front of my pants.
"Just checking. Seems a little damp down there. Drop 'em."
"I didn't. I swear."
"You'd better now swear. Now, let's see those training pants." She unbuckled my belt and dropped my pants to my feet. She pulled the disposable underwear—I preferred the euphemism—inside out and down where she could get a good look. "Hmm. Definitely a little damp, but maybe it's just sweat. You could do a better job wiping though."
She pulled them back up and went to make dinner. I was left standing with my pants at my ankles, wondering what just happened. The evening was business as usual. At bedtime, she said her little boy deserved a reward for being so good all day. I got it too, and how.
Kathy had another pair of training pants out the next day.
"Why do I have to wear these? I stayed dry yesterday."
"I think you know why."
"Because Mommy says so."
She wrapped her arms around me and gave my bottom a squeeze.
"And little boys who do what Mommy says get rewarded."
She gave me a smack.
"And you know what happens to little boys who don't."
I quickly put on the paper pants.
"Good boy. Get dressed. Mommy has to go to work."
I tidied up around the house and puttered in the garden a little. I couldn't help but think about the night before and what Kathy implied that morning. I went to the store and bought a roast, hoping a nice dinner would earn me another of her rewards. With dinner in the oven, I was at a loss for what to do. I sat down to watch some TV and was soon asleep, dreaming of "Mommy."
"Oh, David!" I sat straight up. "Get up, quick."
I stood up, and that's when I felt it. The training pants were leaking.
"Go change. I'll take care of this."
I could hear the disappointment and frustration in her voice. I came back to find her laying towel over the cushion. I told her I was sorry.
"It wasn't too bad. I think I got it in time. Let's just eat. It smells wonderful."
It was good, if I do say so myself. Kathy's praise for it was effusive. Then she turned serious.
"David, what we going to do? I know you can't help your bedwetting, and that's alright. It really is, and we're dealing with it. But what are going to do about this wetting in the daytime? It's obvious the training pants aren't up to the job."
"I'm sorry. I wasn't even planning on going to sleep."
"That's my point. If you're going to drop off like that, you could end up ruining the furniture."
"I'll just stay awake. That's all."
"You didn't today."
"But now I know I have to."
"David, I don't want to deprive you of your sleep. If you need a nap, you should be able to take one."
"I could put a diaper on myself," I suggested.
"Yes, I do think we need to teach you to do that. But that's only going to help if you know you are going to sleep. What about days like today, when you just drop off?"
"I don't know."
"I think there's only solution that's really practical." I didn't like the sound of that. "You're just going to have to have a nap every day. That way, you won't just be nodding off unprotected."
"But I don't need a nap every day."
"I'm sorry, but I don't see any way around it. Unless you prefer I get a sitter who can make sure you stay awake of gets you diapered?"
"No, I don't want that."
"Then you'll just have to start taking naps. Do the dishes, and we'll see if we can teach you how to put on a diaper by yourself. And use the potty. We don't need any accidents in the middle of the lesson."
That was it; the discussion was closed. I met her upstairs when the dishes were done. She had several diapers stacked up on the bed.
"Why so many?"
"It might take you a few tries to get it on right, and the tapes on these don't take repositioning well. If you mess up, we'll have to start from scratch. Here, let me help you get undressed."
She kissed me while she unbuttoned my shirt. I thought we'd get to the instructions part later, and it showed. No such luck.
"Okay. The first thing is to unfold the diaper and lay it out like this."
"I could have guessed that."
"Don't get smart; just listen. Now you lie down on top. You know how to do that already. Well, go on; I can't very well teach you this while you're standing up. Good. Now, lift your bottom and take the bottom two tapes. That's it. Now, move the diaper so the tapes are at the bend in your hips. No, a little higher. Let me feel. That's it. Good boy. Put your bottom down. Now, pull the front up and put the tapes on, snug as you can without stretching anything. Don't let the diaper move, or you'll have to start again. No, no, don't pull the front over so far; keep it centered. That's it. Good job. Now, tuck in all of the side flaps. That's right; we don't want those sticking out. Now, we do the top tapes, nice and snug. Very good! Stand up and let me check you. My goodness, you did so good, and on your first try! We'll just tuck these parts under to make sure nothing gets out. There, all ready for bed."
I don't what the all the fuss was about. It's not like it was brain surgery. Still, she managed to make me feel proud of myself. I reached to undo the tapes.
"What are you doing?" she asked.
"I'm taking it off."
"Why? It's on there so nice."
"It's early, and I'm not sleepy."
"Well, there's no sense in wasting it. If you take it off, we'll just have to throw it away. Just leave it on. Mommy will make it worthwhile," she teased.
"Really?" I said hopefully.
"Uh huh," she said, unbuttoning her blouse.
She knew what I liked. She didn't often let me spend much time with her titties, but that night, she let me suck and play with them to my heart's content. Meanwhile, she pleasured herself.
"Oh, baby!" she cried out after her third orgasm. "You make Mommy feel so good."
She brought my face to hers and kissed me deeply. I was looking forward to the main event.
"We'll have to let you nurse more often. That was fantastic. Are you ready to go night-night or do you want to watch some television."
"Aren't we going to … you know?"
"Baby, what did I say about wasting diapers? That's not coming off until morning, unless you need a change before. So what's if going to be, bed or TV?"
I would have wet myself if I could have, but the state she had me in prevented it.
"TV, I guess," I said with a pout.
"Aw, don't be that way. If you're a good boy, maybe Mommy will let you nurse some more before bed."
That cheered me a little. We put on our nightclothes and went downstairs.
Even though Kathy picked out a movie that would appeal more to me than to her, I was still a bit sullen. Kathy noticed.
"What's the matter, sweetie? Do you still want Mommy's titty? Come here, baby." She had me lie down with my shoulders in her lap. She supported my head with her arm, braced by the arm of the sofa. She pushed her nightgown out of the way. "Be gentle. Mommy's still tender from before."
It wasn't what I really wanted, but it was still nice. I had seen the movie several times before. I could see it in my head just from the dialogue. Kathy was idly rubbing my chest and belly. It was very relaxing. I felt a twinge in my bladder and figure, what the heck; it wasn't like she was going to let me go to the bathroom anyway. It took some effort, but I did manage to overcome my resistance and let the liquid flow. Kathy must have notice a change in me. She stuck her had inside my pajama pants and squeezed my diaper.
"Good boy," she murmured, and she continued to rub down there.
I was actually getting turned on. I was starting to squirm, trying to get a little more pressure on the front to the diaper. My suckling became more passionate, and I reached up to play with the other breast. I felt a slap on my padded behind.
"Mommy said 'gentle.' If you can't be nice, I'm going to put you to bed." That brought about a definite pout from me. "Don't be like that; you were told. Let's get you turned around and you can have the other side for a while, but be nice."
"Okay," I sighed."
"What was that?"
Yes … Mommy."
"That's better. You just nurse nicely while we finish the movie. Then Mommy will get you tucked in."
I was more on my side this time, and Kathy rubbed my back and bottom. I think I must have drifted off, because Kathy was telling me it was time for bed. I got my bearings and sat up. I didn't think I had been that wet when we switched breasts.
Kathy took my hand and led me upstairs. She took off my pajama pants and said she was right; I would need a change before bed. She laid me down and untaped the used but not soggy garment. I asked to use the bathroom.
"Really? I wouldn't think you had any more in you right now."
"For … the other."
"Oh, yes, of course. Go make poopies, and then we'll get you set for night-night." She patted my naked bottom as I went.
She didn't really have to put it that way, I thought. I wasn't gone long, but she had a new diaper laid out, as well as some powder.
"What's that for?" I asked, pointing at the powder.
"It will make you more comfortable, and it will make you smell nice."
"It'll make me smell like a baby."
"Exactly, is there anything that smells better than a freshly changed baby? Beside, at the moment, you are acting like one. You may as well smell the part."
"You know I can't help it. It's the stress. And those pill make me so sleepy, I don't know …"
"That's not what I meant. You've been cranky and moody all night. Lie down, so Mommy can get your dipee on."
I lay down, but not without telling her I didn't appreciate the baby talk.
"You liked it well enough when we were playing here a while ago." She took a wet wipe and ran it up my butt crack. "And if this is the kind of job you do wiping yourself, maybe you one. Does Mommy have to help you when you make a stinky in the potty?"
"Kathy!" I complained.
"Okay, okay, I'm kidding … for now, but make sure you do a better job in the future. If I'm going to have to clean your poopy bottom anyway, I may as well keep you in diapers full time."
"Relax. I didn't say I was going to do it. I just haven't ruled out the possibility," she said with a grin that was either playful or threatening. I couldn't tell which.
She powdered nicely, but I was disappointed that she stopped when I started to stir. She finished the rest of the process efficiently and soon had me tucked in. She got in beside me and had me face her.
"Unless we run into some problems, here are the rules from now on. I want you to lie down every afternoon around one o'clock. A little bit earlier, a little bit later, doesn't matter, as long as it's not past two. Whatever you might be planning that would take longer than that can wait until after you rest. I want you in a diaper when you lie down. You showed me you can do it yourself, and I feel better knowing you are protected. If you wet while you are napping, go ahead and put your pull-ups back on. If you don't, I want you to keep the diaper on until you use it; that way it's not wasted, and I know you aren't cheating. If you don't sleep at naptime, I want you in a diaper until I get home. I can't have you falling asleep without one on. If you have to change once or twice before I get back, that's okay, but no wasting. If I find you aren't taking your naps or you are running around without a diaper when you should have one on, Mommy will spank, understand?"
I nodded, wide eyed. For some reason, I was getting aroused.
"Say, 'yes, Mommy.'"
"Good boy. And remember, good boys who do what Mommy says get rewards." She kissed me. "Night-night, baby."
"Night-night, Mommy," I yawned. I started to plan out my day for tomorrow, but I was off to dreamland.
I had finished mowing the lawn, and working on pulling some weeds, when I heard a car pull into the driveway. I wasn't pulling weeds anymore. I was pushing trucks around a sandbox.
"Mommy!" I yelled.
"There's my little man," Kathy beamed. But her face turned cold. "Davey, just look at you."
I looked down. My hands were filthy, and there was sad stuck to the wet front of my little shorts. I looked up surprised.
"David, did you take your nap today?"
"I wasn't sleepy."
"Where's your diaper?"
"I forgot," I said sheepishly.
"You forgot? What was the last thing I said to you before I left?"
"I said I wanted you to go down for a nap at one o'clock and to make sure you put your diaper on."
"I didn't know it was so late."
"Is that so? Did you not know you need to go potty either?
"Davey, I'm very disappointed in you. Get in the house this instant." I ran in the house and was almost through the kitchen. "Stop right there, mister. Take off those filthy clothes. You're not going track sand all through the house."
I didn't want to. Getting undressed in the kitchen meant I would have to walk right past the picture window to get upstairs.
"No buts," she said, striding over and pulling my shirt right over my head. She made quick work of my sandals and shorts and left me standing in a drooping pull-up. She shook her head and started pulling it down. She gasped when she saw a small, firm poop inside. She got it off me and balled it up "David, you naughty, naughty boy. Get up stairs right now. You need a bath."
She turned me around and planted a stinging slap on my damp bottom. I ran up the stairs, no longer caring if I was seen. Kathy was not far behind.
"Sit on the potty and try to go poopy." She started the bath and added some sweet-smelling bubbles. "Honestly, I thought you were a big boy. I thought I could trust you. Did you go?"
I shook my head. I was getting teary, because she was mad at me.
"Get in the tub. This discussion isn't over, but you're just too filthy to deal with at the moment." I jumped in the tub, hoping compliance would earn me a few points. She scrubbed me from head to toe. "I have no idea how one little boy can get so dirty? How did you get sand in there?"
I didn't know either, and I felt bad I was making work for her. She was hardly gentle, and I was glad when she finished. She dried me just as roughly, then ordered me into the bedroom.
"What have you got to say for yourself?" she demanded.
"I'm sorry is not an excuse. Did you deliberately disobey me, or are you too much of a baby to leave on your own. I think I'm going to have to have Mrs. Travers come over and watch you during the day."
"I don't need a babysitter," I whined. "I'm a big boy."
"Then you are a naughty, disobedient boy, and I know just how to deal with that," she said, snatching up her hairbrush and hauling down across her lap. "I told you what would happen, if you didn't listen to Mommy. You have no one to blame but yourself."
"Mommy, no!" My bottom was quickly ablaze. I was screaming out apologies and promising to be good. I was bawling my eyes out and shaking. No, I wasn't shaking. I was being shaken.
"David, David, Wake up." I shouted something incoherent. I looked around. It was dark. I saw Kathy. I threw my arms around her.
"I'm sorry, Mommy. I'm sorry! I won't wet my pants again. I'll take my nap. I'll wear my diapers. Don't spank me. I'm sorry!"
I sobbed and sobbed. Mommy … Kathy held and shushed me.
"There, there, baby, it's all over now. It was just a bad dream. Mommy loves you. You're Mommy's good boy; yes, you are. Let's get you changed, so we can go back to sleep."
I was soaked, but Kathy took care of it like it was nothing. She made such short work of it, I didn't even become fully conscious. I just followed her instructions, lifting up when she asked, and I was soon dry and nuzzling her.
"No, baby. Mommy's sore. Try to go back to sleep. Mommy will see about buying you a baba and a binky tomorrow."
That thought didn't register enough to consciously think about it, but it did sink in enough that I dreamt of nursing from a giant bottle. My thumb was wrinkled when I woke up.
The night must have been harder on me than I realized. I had no trouble putting on a diaper and taking a nap the next day or the day after. Kathy made me show her the used diapers when she saw I was wearing pull-ups. She praised me for being a good boy. The day after that, try as I might, I just couldn't fall asleep. I went ahead and wet the diaper, so I could show Kathy I hadn't wasted it, but then I put on a pull-up and went about the rest of my afternoon. We sat down to watch TV after dinner. I was nodding off before the first commercial.
"Hmm?" I asked groggily.
"David, did you have a nap today?"
"Mm-mm," I acknowledged.
"Is that a no?"
"Then where's your diaper?"
"I know that, but why don't you have one on now?"
"Don' need one."
"That's not the rule, and you know it. Get up. You're going to bed right now."
"Wanna stay up with you."
"Nothing doing. You get upstairs right now, unless you want to go to bed with a sore bottom." That woke me up.
"But it's early," I whined.
"David, I'm warning you or the last time."
"Okay, I'm going," I huffed and all but stomped out of the room.
"And use the potty. I'll be up in a minute to put your diaper on."
I did as I was told; I did have to go. Kathy came in and laid out a diaper while I was getting undressed. Before I knew it, she had me squared away and tucked in. Seemingly out of nowhere, she stuck bottle in my mouth.
"Leave that there. I bought it as a joke, but maybe it's appropriate after all. You know the rules, David. It was very naughty of you to break them. I feel like you lied to me. I'm very disappointed in you." That stirred up memories of my nightmare. "We will talk about this in the morning. In the meantime, dink your baba and go to sleep. I expect it to be empty when I come to bed. I'm very upset with you right now."
I was upset too, as much with myself as being made to drink from a baby's bottle. Still, I was tired and didn't last long. I woke up briefly to find the bottle being replaced in my mouth and held there. The next this I remember was Kathy's waking me to get changed and "have a talk."
I came back from the bathroom to time a diaper waiting on the bed. Kathy was sitting next to it, hairbrush in hand.
I immediately protested. "I get it. I'm sorry. If I don't take a nap, I'll wear a diaper till you say so. You don't have to do this."
"You'll get it alright. And I do have to do this, because it seems the only time you listen to me is when you're face down over my lap. Get over here now." I reluctantly went and climbed into position. She did waste any time in starting to warm my seat "You deliberately disobeyed my, and then you pretended like you took a nap. You thought you were real smart, didn't you? Thought you could fool me into thinking you took a nap, didn't you? What do you think would have happened if you fell asleep before I got home? I'll tell you what would have happened; you would have wet your pants and made a royal mess, that's what. You are a naughty, naughty, little boy. Lying to Mommy, Mommy is so angry with you. Are you going to make me have to hire a sitter for you? Is that what I have to do, because Mommy's little boy can't be trusted?"
"No! Please, don't! I'll be good. I promise!" She stopped spanking.
"Alright, fine, I'll give you one more chance. Get up, and let's get your diaper on. You are in diapers all day, and I do mean all day. I'm going to call you from time to time, and you had better be wearing your diaper, because you are going to send me a picture to prove it, and if you aren't wearing one, or it takes longer than I think it should for you to send it, you won't sit down for a week, and I will find you that sitter. Do I make myself clear?"
"Yes, Mommy. Yes."
"Good. Now, get your nose in that corner." She left for a few minutes. "I set up your computer with the webcam on, and I set an alarm. Don't you dare move until the alarm goes off. I may not be able to watch you all the time, but you won't know when I do. So you'd better be on your best behavior and do exactly as Mommy says, understood?"
"Yes, Mommy," I said dejectedly.
"I do love you, baby, but you have to be a good boy and do what Mommy says, okay?"
"That's my good boy." She kissed and hugged me. "Okay, nose back in the corner, and don't move till the alarm goes off. Remember, Mommy's watching."
She turned me around and patted my behind. I was left with my thoughts. I hoped not for too long. That hope didn't last. With no frame of reference but my own world, which was defined by the two walls I got to stare at, the seconds ticked slowly. I got to dwell on why I was standing there. Because Mommy, I mean Kathy, was mean. No she wasn't; I did this to myself. Why couldn't I have handled things better? I could have stood up to my boss. I could have gone to HR sooner. I could have quit. Why didn't I? Because I was afraid. What good would that have done? I'd have just been out of a job sooner. Why did I have to start that again? And why wasn't it stopping. I got rid of the stress. I quit. But I still couldn't keep dry. It's no wonder Kathy treated me like a baby. Why did she do that? Why won't she, when I was in diapers every night. Some Man. But it was kind of nice. It felt good to be snuggled. It felt really good to be suckled. She was actually being really nice … when she wasn't spanking me. Why did she have to do that? And why didn't I stop her? What was I supposed to do, hit her back? I couldn't do that. And it's not like I didn't bring them on myself. I didn't listen. Why should I have to listen? I'm a grown man. But I was acting like a little boy. A little boy who can't keep his pants dry. And so it went on until the alarm chimed. Less than a minute later, Kathy called.
"You stayed in the corner the whole time. Good boy. I knew you could listen when you wanted to. The webcam is still on. Show me your diaper." I positioned myself and the camera so she could look. "Still dry. Good. I have to get back to work now. I'll call and check on you a little later. Be a good boy for Mommy, and get your chores done. I'll talk to you before naptime. I love you, sweetie. Bye-bye."
She hung up before could get a word in. There was nothing for it but to get on with my day. I wasn't very hungry, but coffee was welcome. I puttered around, taking care of what I had to, making the bed, doing the laundry and dishes. I wet myself a little; there didn't seem any point in holding it. Kathy called around eleven.
"Hi, baby. How's your day going? Are you being a good boy?"
"Yes, Mommy. I'm almost done with my chores."
"That's my good baby. Speaking of which. Send me a picture of your diaper." I snapped a pic and sent it to her. "Just a little wet. You'll be fine till nap time. Mommy needs to get back to work. I want you to find some more things to do around the house. You're still on punishment; so no TV or computer till Mommy says so. But make sure the webcam is facing the bed. I may want to check in on you during your nap. Be a good boy. I love you, baby. I'll talk to you later."
Now facing a day of boredom, I looked for things to do. I vacuumed the carpets and washed the floors. That kept me busy until lunchtime. I had a sandwich and a soda. By that time, I was looking forward to a change. When the phone rang, I thought it was Kathy.
"Hi, Mom …"
"David, it's Mrs. Travers across the street. Could you come help me, please?"
"I'd be happy to Mrs. Travers, but right now isn't a very good time. May later this afternoon?" It was getting close to one o'clock, and Kathy was going to want me in bed.
"I'm sorry, David. It really can't wait. The toilet it backing up, and I can't stop it. Please help." She sounded desperate. I was torn over what to do. "David, are you there?"
"Yes," I said stupidly, coming out of my head. "Yes, Mrs. Travers. Let me just grab some tools, and I'll be right over."
"Thank you, David. You're a lifesaver."
The first order of business was to call Kathy. I needed to tell her what was going on. Her cell went straight to voicemail. I didn't want to just leave a message; so I called her office.
"Ms. Henderson's office. May I help you?"
"Ho, Mandy. It's David."
"Oh, hi, David. I hear you're taking some time off. That must be so great. I wish I could do that."
"Mandy," I broke in. "I need to speak to Kathy. Could you put me through please?"
"I'm sorry I can't. She's in a meeting, and she said no interruptions, unless it's life and death. It's not, is it?"
"No … um … just have her call me, will you?"
"Sure thing. Is everything alright?"
"Um … fine. You have her call. Thanks."
I put on my baggiest sweats and hoped they'd hide what was under them. I threw my snake, a plunger, some wrenches, and a couple of kinds of pliers in a duffle and headed across the street. Mrs. Travers.
"David, hurry, hurry. It's getting worse!"
I followed the sound of running water until I saw it. How did she let it get this far? The bathroom was flooded, and it was flowing out into the hallway. I stuck my phone in a pocket of the duffel and set the bag down in a spot near the door that was still dry.
"Get me all the towels you can. Clean, dirty, doesn't matter. Quick!" She brought me a couple of kitchen towels. "No, bath towels. The bigger the better. And as many as you can carry."
This time, she understood. I tossed the m around the room, and they were saturated as soon as they hit the floor.
"Have you got more?" She nodded. "Get them. All of them."
I squatted beside the toilet and tried to turn the shutoff valve. Nothing. I grabbed a pair of channel locks from my bag and tried to muscle the knob again. Before the valve finally budged, I was afraid the strain would make me poop my pants. I did pee them a little. Thank heaven that didn't happen. I was making some headway, when my phone rang. I had to get the water off; so I ignored it. Was it really necessary to put so many threads on these stupid valves? The phone rang again. Again, I ignored it. I could hear the flow slowing. I was getting close. Like the sink, this valve was long unused and heavily corroded. I wasn't sure I was going to be able to turn that last little bit without breaking it off. The phone was ringing again.
"Mrs. Travers! Could you answer my phone for me? I kind of have my hands full." I could see her looking at it like it was a snake in her hand. "Just slide your finger up the screen. That's it. And hit the button that says 'Answer.'"
"David, where the hell are you," I could hear Kathy's voice all the way across the room. "You're not in your bed, and I've been calling and calling. What is going …"
"Kathy, dear." Mrs. Travers found her voice and near shouted. "It's Mavis. David can't talk right now…. No, he's fine. It's my toilet. It was flooding the house. David was godsend, coming over to fix it…. Is he what? Well, yes, he is. There was quite a lot of water on the floor…. Oh…. Oh my …"
I didn't hear any more. Mrs. Travers had wandered down the hall. I still needed to get the water shut down. The valve finally did close, and I shouted for Mrs. Travers to let her know. Nothing. I threw the soggy towels into the bathtub and used the last couple of dry ones to make a relatively dry spot to work.
I took the lid off the tank to see why it was running like that. The arm on the old ball float had corroded right off. Always when there's a clog, I thought to myself.
I got my snake to start working on the clog. It didn't go very far. It hit an obstruction almost immediately. Whatever it was, it was hard. I pulled the snake out, and a fair amount of toilet paper came with it. I went back it and hit the object again. I tried to dislodge it with the snake, but it wouldn't move forward, and I couldn't get the spring to snag it. There was nothing for it but to do it manually. I pushed up my sleeve, knelt down, and plunged my hand into the cold water. I tried really hard not to think about where my hand was or what it might find. I pulled out more toilet paper and gagged a little. In again, I felt the object. There was more paper around it, but I able to get my fingers around it. It was wedge in pretty tight, but it broke free, and the water in the bowl quickly went down. I swished off the paper and found a toy car.
"I found the problem," I shouted. No reply. Where did she go?
"Mrs. Travers?" I yelled. "I'm going to have to go to the hardware store. You need a new float valve."
"You got it fixed. Thank heaven." I must have jumped a foot. I wasn't expecting her to be right there.
"Almost," I said, trying to get my heart back where it belonged. "I'm going to need some parts."
"Dear, oh dear, look at you. You're soaked to the skin. Come with me. I have some dry things you can change into."
"That's okay. I can just run home."
"Nonsense. You'll catch your death. Come."
She grabbed my hand and pulled me to the bedroom. I stopped short, when I got to the door. There on the bed were some my clothes, and sitting right on top was a diaper. I almost didn't hear Mrs. Travers speaking.
"Kathy told me about your little problem, dear. I'm so sorry. And I'm sorry about taking you away from your nap. How about we get you in to something dry? Then you can have a snack and a little lie down before you go to the store."
Before I knew it, Mrs. Travers pulled my sweats to my feet.
"Mrs. Travers!" I shouted.
"My, you are soaked to the skin, aren't you? Don't worry. We'll have you fixed up in a jiffy." She was guiding me toward the bed and pushing me down. "What's that you have in your hand? Oh, Matthew, that boy! You can keep that, if you want, Davey. Matthew won't be getting it back. But let's give it a wash first. We know where it's been."
She gingerly took the car and set it aside. Then she reached for the tapes on my diaper.
"Mrs. Travers, no! I mean, I can do this myself."
"No need to fret, dear. Mr. Travers had the same problem toward the end. I'm an old hand at this."
"It's the least I can do, dear. And I told Kathy I'd take good care of you this afternoon. Just lie still, and we'll have you nice and dry in no time." I tried to squirm and push her hands away. She slapped mine. "We'll have none of that nonsense. Kathy gave me permission to spank you the last time you were here. Don't make me have to do it."
I looked at her wide-eyed. She gave me a look that said not to tempt her. I closed my eyes and tried to pretend I was someplace, anyplace else. That didn't work very well, since I had to lift while she got everything adjusted. She did make short work of it after that, and she was pulling my shoes, socks and sweats off my feet. I sat there dumbfounded, as she changed my shirt, put socks on my and had me step into my pants.
"There," she said, satisfied, "all dry. Come on down to the kitchen. You can have some cookies and a nice glass of milk."
She thanked me profusely while I ate. She made very good cookies. I reached for another.
"Uh-uh," he said, as she took away the plates. "What would Kathy say, if I spoiled your appetite? Finish your milk, and we'll put you down for a nice little nap."
"But I need to go to the hardware …" She cut me off, wiping my face with a damp cloth.
"Plenty of time for that after your nap. I promised Kathy, and there won't be any more discussion about it. Come along."
She took my hand and led me to a different bedroom, one she obviously kept for the grandkids. There was a wide assortment of toys and cartoon bedding. Whether very young, a bit old, girl or boy, whoever stayed in this room would feel comfortable and loved. Mrs. Travers pulled back the covers on the twin bed and told me to get in. I reluctantly did as she asked and immediately noticed the crackle of a waterproof cover. She tucked me in and, out of habit, pulled up a side rail. She tittered realizing what she had done.
"Oh, well, better safe than sorry." She kissed my forehead. "You have a nice sleep, and when you get up, maybe Nana Mavis will let you have that cookie. Sleep tight, Davey."
With that she was gone. What had I gotten myself into? I wanted to talk to Kathy, but I didn't know where my phone was, and she probably arranged this anyway. How was I going to look Mrs. Travers in the face after today? And what might she tell the other neighbors? I needed to get out of this predicament. I needed to get over this stupid wetting problem and find a new job. At least I'd be away from home more. I yawned. The morning was catching up with me. A little nap wouldn't hurt, and I was kind of stuck for now anyway.
"Wakey, wakey," Mrs. Travers sang cheerily. "Time to get up."
"Huh?" I tried to get my bearings. Why was I in a child's room? Oh yeah.
"Did you have a nice nap?" she asked, letting down the rail. She shocked me by sticking her fingers in the waistband of my diaper. "Not too wet. You should be fine till your Mommy gets home."
"I need to get to the store." I needed to get out of there.
"That will have to wait. I talked to Kathy, and she should be here soon. You can finish up tomorrow. How about that cookie? It will be our little secret."
It turned out not to be a secret. I was biting into a second one, when Kathy came in. For some reason, I felt guilty.
"How was he for you today, Mavis? I know how he can be when there's plumbing involved."
"A perfect angel, Kathy. Weren't you, Davey? He's just having a little snack as a reward for coming to my rescue."
"I'm glad to hear that. I just hope he hasn't spoiled his dinner. A growing boy can't live on milk and cookies."
"I expect he'll be fine. I'm sure he worked up quite an appetite."
"Well, we'd best be off. I'll send him over in the morning to finish up. You don't mind watching him, do you?"
"Not at all dear. He's my good little helper."
"Thank you, Mavis. Come on, Dave. Let's go make some supper."
"Oh, Davey, don't forget your car. It's all clean now. He can have it, can't he, Kathy?"
"Of course. What do you say, David?"
"Thank you Mrs. Travers." I didn't need to be reminded, for gosh sake.
"You're welcome, Davey. Maybe tomorrow, we can make some cookies together?" She winked.
"Yes, thank you, Mavis. We'll talk to you tomorrow."
Kathy took me by the hand and led me home.
"That was very nice of you, helping Mrs. Travers like that. I was so worried, when I couldn't find you."
"I did call."
"I know. I should have checked my messages first. That's my fault. Do you like your toy?"
"What? Oh, yeah, I guess," I said, setting it down.
"It was very nice of Mrs. Travers to give it to you."
"I know. But can you stop talking to me like I'm a child?"
"I'm just saying it was nice."
"But you told me to say thank you, and you're talking about my working over there like your dropping me off at daycare."
"Still a bit cranky after your nap."
"I'm not cranky! And I don't need naps. I'm not a baby, damn it."
"Don't take that tone with me. And no more potty mouth, unless you want it washed out. How's your diaper holding out, by the way?"
"It's fine. Why did you make me wear it all day anyway? Now Mrs. Travers knows, and she'll probably tell everybody. It's not like I don't have enough problems. I don't have a job anymore, and I can't stop wetting the bed, and now everybody's gonna think I'm a big baby, just like you and Mrs. Travers do. It's not fair!" Tears were running down my face. "Why does it have to be like this?"
Kathy took me in her arms, and I sobbed. It was all too much. I felt a warm wetness gather around my bottom, and I cried all the harder.
"Shh. Shh. I know, baby. I know. It's all overwhelming, isn't it? It's going to be okay. I promise. I had a long talk with Mrs. Travers this afternoon. I explained the whole thing, and she understands. She just wants to help, and she won't tell a soul; I promise. I don't want you to worry about a thing. I know you're not a baby. But you've been through a lot lately, and I want to take care of you. I want you to let all the hurt go. I think that bully of a boss did more damage than you realize. And trying to put up a brave front and hide what it was doing only made it worse. I think you need to let go of everything and let me handle things for a while. Can you be a big, brave boy and trust Mommy to look after you until you're better?"
"That's my little man. You just let Mommy be in charge for a while, and she'll make it all better. You just be Mommy's little helper, and don't worry about the mean people anymore. You can help Mrs. Travers too. She needs lots of help now that he husband is gone. She doesn't mind that you are having potty problems and more than Mommy does. We know that even big boys have trouble with the potty sometimes. You just do what we ask, and we'll take care of the rest. Can you do that for me, baby? Will you do that for Mommy?"
"I guess." I was emotionally drained. I couldn't fight it anymore.
"Promise me, baby. Promise me you'll listen to Mommy and Mrs. Travers and let us take care of you."
"I promise, what?"
"Listen to who, baby?"
"Mommy and Nana Mavis."
I sat up at hearing that name come out of my mouth. Kathy looked shocked, but her surprise quickly turned into a smile.
"That's right, baby. Mommy and Nana will take good care of you. Are you hungry?" I was caught off guard by the question, but I was, in fact. I nodded. Kathy squeezed the front of my diaper. "Then let's get you fed, but first somebody needs a change."
Kathy took me upstairs, then made a detour into the bathroom. When she was down to the diaper, she asked if I had made poopies that day. I hadn't.
"Sit on the potty, and try to make a boom-boom for Mommy. I'll be right back."
I was getting ready to wipe when she came back … naked. She turned on the shower. She took the paper from my hand and told me to stand up.
"Good job! Turn around." She bent me over and wiped me. "Okay, get in the shower. You've been playing with toilet water all day and not the good kind. Mommy needs to clean you up."
It was nice showering together. It had been a long time since we did that. All that soaping and scrubbing led to other things, and we had to start over. We basked in the afterglow under the water.
"I'm confused. One minute, you're wiping me like I'm three years old, the next you're …" I grinned and pulled her closer.
"You may need a mommy right now, but you are still my husband, and don't you forget it. I haven't. But now it's time to get the baby dressed and fed. Get out, and Mommy will dry you."
I had the best night's sleep in many weeks, wet but restful. Kathy woke me lovingly, and she was laying out my clothes when I came back from the shower.
"Of course not, sweetie. Your punishment is over. It's back to the regular rules. You'll wear your training pants until naptime, unless you'd rather a diaper. It's okay if you do."
"No, training pants are good. But what about Mrs. Travers? What if she notices a difference? How am I going to explain why I was wearing a diaper yesterday but not today?"
"Don't worry, baby? Mommy already talked to Nana, and she knows all about it. That's the other reason you can go back to wearing training pants. Nana will be there to make sure you don't fall asleep without your diaper on."
"Does that mean I have to go back to wearing diapers when I get finished with her bathroom?"
"I expect you'll be busy with her all day. We'll just see how it goes. Okay, sweetie?"
"Okay," I agreed reluctantly.
"Don't pout, honey. You're going to have lots of fun with Nana. I promise."
I went to my workshop and got a tubing cutter. I was going to replace that old shutoff valve as well as the float. Kathy was waiting by the door with an overnight bag.
"What's that?" I asked.
"Just some extra supplies, you never know." We went out, and I started to turn toward the car. "No, baby, this way. Nana will take you to the store."
Mrs. Travers was waiting for us. The door opened as we approached.
"Why, hello, Davey," she said, a little too brightly. "All ready to get to work?"
"Oh, don't be so glum. You did the hard part yesterday, didn't you? You're such a good helper. You'll have it all fixed in no tie, won't you?"
"Now, now. No need to be so formal. We're good friends now, aren't we? What did we agree my name was?"
I hadn't agreed to anything, but I knew what was expected. "Nana Mavis."
"That's right!" she beamed. "And Nana's going to take very good care of you. And if you're a very good boy, Nana has a big surprise for you later. Won't that be fun?"
I looked at Kathy, hoping she would intervene on my behalf. Instead she gave me a small not and a look that said go along with it.
"That's my good boy. Come in. come in. Have you had breakfast yet? Nana can't have you working on an empty stomach."
"I'm sorry, Mavis. I didn't have time to feed him this morning. I really am running late."
"That's alright, dear. He can eat with Nana. I'm just sorry you can't join us."
"Me too, but I do have to run. Here's his bag. It should have anything you might need. David, you be a good boy for Nana today, and I'll see you after work. Thank you again, Mavis."
Kathy kissed both me and Nana … Mrs. Travers on the cheek and took her leave.
"Well, Davey, we've got a big day ahead of us. I think that calls for pancakes. How about you?" I nodded enthusiastically. "Then have a seat. They'll be coming right up. But first, maybe you should go potty."
I blushed and mumbled, "I don't have to right now."
"I think you should try anyway. For Nana?"
"Alright." I headed off to the sill working guest bath.
"That's a good boy. Don't forget to flush and wash your hands."
I don't know what Kathy told her, but Mrs. Travers was taking to her role as Nana more enthusiastically than I was comfortable with. I suppose it wasn't hurting anyone, maybe my pride a little bit. On the other hand, she was being really nice. It's not every day I get someone to make pancakes for me, and bacon from the smell of it. I made an honest effort of it, but I didn't have to go. I flushed and washed anyway.
"Just in time. I have your plate all ready for you." I half expected it to be already cut up. Instead, she had poured one large and two small circles of batter, making the shape of a famous mouse. I had to smile at that. She set the plate down in front of me, tucked a napkin into my shirt, and kissed me on the forehead. "Be careful with the syrup. Use both hands."
That annoyed me a little, but I bit my tongue and used both hands. I don't know if using only one would have made any difference, but the syrup did pour faster than expected, and my pancake was fairly swimming in it.
"Oh, somebody has a sweet tooth," she said, setting a large glass of milk in front of me. "Eat up, there's plenty more where that came from."
"May I have some coffee, Nana?"
"Coffee? Are you sure? Oh, heavens, of course. But drink your milk too. It's good for you."
She made excellent pancakes, light, crispy around the edges. I had seconds and bacon and thirds. I had to soak up all that syrup after all. I was stuffed.
"Such a good eater," she said, astonished.
"Aren't you going to have some?"
"Oh, no, dear," I had something earlier. Is your tummy full? Would you like something else?"
"No, thank you. I couldn't eat another bite. It was delicious."
"You're welcome, sweetheart. It's nice to cook for someone again. I suppose you'll be wanting to go to the hardware store?"
"After that meal, not so much. But I do need to get some things to finish fixing the toilet."
"I'll go freshen up and then we can go. Do you need to use the potty?"
"No, Nana," I sighed. "I'm fine."
"Okay," she said uncertainly and went about her business. I poured myself another half cup of coffee. I was wondering what was taking so long, when she came back with her hair a little spruced up and a touch of light make up. "You're sure you don't want to use the potty before we go?"
"Yes, Nana," I said, rolling my eyes.
"Watch your tone, young man. Alright let's go."
Before long, we were back, and I set right to work. I had the old shutoff replaced and the main water turned back on. The corroded float mostly out, when I wished I had used the toilet before starting. I was close to finished; so I forged on. All parts attached and feeling tight, I opened the shutoff and promptly got sprayed in the face. I turned off the water and had another go at the loose fitting. That did it, tight as a drum. I closed the door and christened the job. I noticed that the training pants were more than a little damp. I flushed and watched all the parts work as they should. I put away my tools and wiped everything down.
Proud of myself, I opened the door and shouted, "Nana! I'm done!"
"Nice job, Davey! I'm so proud of you. Thank you so much. It's beautiful! Come along. I have a nice lunch and a big piece of cake with your name on it."
Lunch was grilled cheese and tomato soup. Again, she stuck the napkin in my shirt. She wasn't kidding about the cake. It was a two layer yellow cake with gobs of homemade chocolate buttercream and enormous. It was all I could do to finish it. I didn't object the big glass of milk she gave me, even though I would have preferred coffee, and I didn't really need to use two hands, as she insisted. I thanked her with all my heart and said I would be on my way.
"Oh, no, David. I have something I want you to do after your nap. Come up stairs and lie down. Nana has a big surprise for you when you get up."
"I really should be …"
"Now, David, you've been so good all day. Don't start giving Nana trouble now. I told your Mommy I would put you don after lunch, and that's what we're going to do."
She took my hand and led me back to the grandkids' room. I think she would have dragged me, if I had put up any resistance. She put the bag Kathy had brought on the bed and pulled out pajamas and a diaper. She did a double take and took something else out of the bag. She turned around and wagged Kathy's hairbrush at me.
"Don't make me use this," she warned and put it back. "Let's get you changed, and you'll have a nice nap and be all rested for your surprise."
She came over and started unbuttoning my shirt. I backed away. She asked if she needed to get the hairbrush. I let her undress me. If I wasn't nervous before, I certainly was when she had me down to the pull-up. She started to take it down and stopped half way.
"Oh, David, when did that happen? I told you, you should have used the potty before we went to the store. You have to tell Nana when you have to go. Oh, well, I guess that's why we have you in trainers. At least your pants stayed dry. But let's get your diaper and jammies on, so you can go beddy-bye." I was soon tucked in and sulking. "Don't be that way, sweetheart. Nana's not mad. Accidents happen. But I want you to promise me, you'll tell Nana the next time, okay?"
"Okay," I sighed.
"That's Nana's good boy." She pulled the blankets up under my chin and kissed me on the forehead. "Sweet dreams, Honeybunch. You have a good rest, and then nana has something really special for you. Ni-night."
She shut the door and left me to wonder what it might be. Tucked in and toasty, with a full tummy, I didn't last long. Nana jostled me awake. I knew from the shadows, I had been out for a while.
"Wake up, sleepyhead. Time to get up. If you sleep any longer, your Mommy will never get you down at bedtime. Do you want to see what Nana has for you?" I nodded, curious. "Good. Let's just have a check then. Oo, I think Nana shouldn't give you so much milk before naptime. No worries, that's what it's there for."
She got the bag and pulled out a diaper and a pair of training pants. She seemed to weigh her options for a moment ad put the diaper back. "We'll try these again, but you have to tell nana when you need to use the potty, understand?"
"Yes, Nana," I said, blushing.
She got me changed and was pulling me the hand again. She had the biggest grin on her face. She took me down to the basement. I wondered what she wanted to show me. I had been down there earlier to turn off the main water line and hadn't noticed anything unusual. She turned me off to the left and opened a door.
Before me lay the most elaborate train set I had ever seen outside and exhibition like the one we went to at Sharon's house. It wasn't nearly as big, of course, but still. It had everything, tracks wining all over the place, tunnels, trestles, crossing gates, people and animals. I stood there with my mouth hanging open.
"Do you like it?"
"Do I like it? It's beautiful!"
"It was Harold's. He made it for our boys, but he could never get them interested in it. They just wanted to crash the trains. When they discovered girls, even Harold didn't play with it anymore. He never had the heart to get rid of it. I guess he always kept hope. It's been sitting down here all these years."
"That's terrible. Something like this should be loved."
"It was. It was, but not for a long time. Would you like to play with it?"
"Would I? Do you mean it? That would be awesome! Are you sure it's okay? I mean …"
"Yes, sweetheart, I mean it. It would do my heart good to know it wasn't down here just gathering dust. I think it would make Harold very happy too." There was a tear in her eye.
"Oh, Nana, thank you!"
I hugged her so tight. I think I might have lifted her off the floor. I gave her a great big kiss on the cheek and looked back over the display. I approached the layout with reverence, lightly touching it, following the track with my eyes. I found the controls and studied them carefully. I wanted to be sure of what each one did before I went any further. I never laid my hands on anything like this. I was lost in its intricacies when I made the first tentative turn of the transformer knob. An engine came to life and slowly started to move. I felt something placed on my head, then a hug from behind and a kiss on my cheek. I could take my eyes off the train, but I'm sure I felt a little wetness there.
I was lost in wonder. I carefully tried each control, only for a second at first, just to make sure it did what I thought it would. After a while, I had two trains going and track switches working. I was thrilled, and I had barely scratched the surface of what it all could do.
"Davey, you're Mommy's here."
I almost whined for five more minutes. I really wanted to keep playing. Instead, I called back, dejectedly, "Okay."
I carefully shut everything down, reversing the order in which I started them. When I stood up, a shiver ran through me. There was wetness on the backs of my thighs. I froze. How was I going to get out of there without them seeing?
"David, come on," Kathy called. "It's time to go home and leave Nana in peace."
"Coming," I lied. Now she was waiting at the top of the stairs. Was there a back door to this place?
"Now, David. Don't make me come down there."
There was nothing else for it. I slowly climbed the steps. There may as well have been a gallows at the top.
"David! What have you done? I'm ashamed of you. Apologize this instant!"
"I'm sorry, Nana." I meant it too.
"You and I are going to have a talk about this when I get you home. I'm so sorry, Mavis."
"It's alright, dear. I shouldn't have left him alone for so long. I should have known better after this morning."
"This morning? You wet your pants twice in the same day? What am I going to do with you?"
"Don't be too hard on him, Kathy. It wasn't that bad. I'm sure he couldn't help it. I really should have made him sit on the potty more."
"It's not your fault, Mavis. There's no excuse for his wetting himself in the day time. He should know when he needs to go potty, shouldn't you? If he doesn't, well we'll deal with it. But I think he was just being lazy and not wanting to stop playing. Get your bag and thank Nana. We're going home."
"Thank you, Nana, for everything, especially for letting me play with the trains. That was so awesome."
"You're welcome, sweetheart. You can play with them anytime you want, as long as your Mommy says it's alright."
She took the hat off my head and handed it to Nana. "Thank you, Mavis, but I think he's lost his engineer's license for a while. We'll see if he earns it back. I'll call you later."
She pushed me out the door and scolded me all the way across the street and into the house.
"Go upstairs, take off your clothes, and sit on the potty. Don't move until I tell you. I'll come up when I'm calm enough to deal with you."
I don't know how long I was left to sit there, long enough for my legs to fall asleep. Kathy was calmer when she came in but still visibly upset. She picked up the saturated training pants.
"For heaven's sake, David, what is wrong with you? I thought by now, you'd be getting better, but your just getting worse. I so want to spank you right now, but I don't trust myself to do it. Do you have any idea how much you embarrassed me? I've tried to be patient with you, but it's wearing pretty thin. I know you need a mommy right now, and I'm trying really hard to be that for you. I even told you, you could wear diapers all the time, if that's what you wanted. You said you didn't need them. You said you wanted training pants. You wanted to be a big boy. Then you go pissing your pants, not once but twice, the second time, so much you leaked. Well, mister, you listen to me, and you listen good. You want to piss your pants like a baby? Fine. You've got the whole weekend. You're going back into diapers right now, and you can piss and shit yourself to your heart's content. On Monday, if, and I mean if, I think you've learned your lesson, and you still want them, I'll consider letting you have your training pants back. But that's only going to if Nana will help with your toilet training. You'll sit on the potty on a schedule, you'll be supervised, your pants will be checked, and if you wet yourself, your going to be spanked, put back in diapers, and we'll start all over again the next time one of us is available to try and teach you to be a big boy. And don't think I'm going to be grounded just because you are being a baby. I have shopping to do this weekend, and you'll be coming with me, diaper bag and all. Do I make myself clear?"
I had long since started crying. I sobbed, "I'm sorry."
"I didn't ask if you were sorry. I said, do I make myself clear."
"Yes, Mommy. Crystal."
"Good. Get up and go in the bedroom. I need to get a diaper on you. You can clean up this mess afterward."
"I can't," I wailed.
"Are you defying me? After what you've done? Why the hell not?"
"My legs are a sleep."
"Then I guess you'll just have to crawl like the baby you are acting like."
I slid off the toilet and onto my knees. At first, I could hardly move my legs. Then the blood started to flow back into them, and that was much worse. Pins and needles only begins to describe the electric burning that flared with every movement. Kathy slapped my behind, and I screamed. Halfway to the bedroom, enough feeling had returned that I tried to stand. Kathy told me to stay where I was; she would let me know when I was allowed to walk again.
I crawled up on the bed Lay back to be diapered. Kathy told me to roll over. I was sure she was going to take the belt to me, and I started bawling. Instead of fire on my bottom, I felt cold stickiness. She was slathering me with Desitin. It felt like she was using enough for three of me. I heard the rustling of diapers and saw two of them laid open next to me. She told me to roll over, and she applied a layer just as thick to the front. She covered me in a cloud of baby powder. It took her several wet wipes to get her hands reasonably clean. She taped up the double diaper and looked dissatisfied. She went away and came back with a role of clear packing tape. She told me to stand, and she wrapped the tape around me three times.
"That ought to hold you. Get in bed. From what I heard, you had more than enough to eat today. If you're quiet, and I feel like it, I might bring you a bottle later. I do not want to hear a peep out of you. Understand?"
"Yes, Mommy," I squeaked.
She looked down at me for a long time. Finally, she sat down on the bed. She brushed the tears from my cheeks and the hair away from my forehead.
"Sweetheart, I love you. I really do. I know that has all been hard on you. The thing is, this is all hard on me too. Shh. It's okay. I can deal with it, but you have to deal with it too. You have to decide what is going on and how you are going to handle it. What's happening isn't working. If anything, the situation is getting worse. I need you to think really hard about this. Do you think there is something wrong with you that you are losing control of your bodily functions, something physically wrong? If you do, I'll call Margaret on Monday. We'll get all the tests and specialists we need to make you better."
I started to speak, but she put a finger over my lips and shushed me gently.
"Don't answer now. I want you to think hard about that over the weekend. I don't know how your body feels inside. Margaret didn't find anything wrong with you before, and I don't think there is now. But you can tell me in a couple of days, after you think about it. As for me, I feel like you are trying to live in two worlds at the same time. A part of you wants to be a little boy and be taken care of. A part of you wants to be a big strong man. Both of those things are fine. But I think trying to both is hurting you. I think it's causing problems for me. I think you have to choose. If you can't handle the responsibility of keeping your pants dry, or just don't want it, you have to tell me. There are things we … I can do to prevent it from being a problem. It would mean some big changes for both of us, but we can deal with it, I promise. But you can't go around just wetting your pants, like you did today. That hurts us both, and it hurt Nana. It's all forgiven now, but you need to make some decisions.
"You need to decide if there's something physically wrong with you and if not, which world you want to live in. Do you want to be a grown up, or do you need to be a little boy for now? I want you to take your time and really think about this. It's very important, and you should not make your decision quickly. I want you to take your time, and I won't ask for listen to your answer until Monday. I'm not going to push you in any direction, and I'll respect any decision you make. But I think, and I hope you agree, that what you did today was not the right way to handle what's happening, and that it deserves some consequences."
I was sniffling, but I nodded.
"Good. So, until Monday morning, you are going to be in diapers. You will use them when you need to, and you will do what I say. You can learn just what it's like to be Mommy's baby and whether that's right for you. Do not ask to be let out before we discuss your decision. I am not going to change my mind. And if you think this is easy for me, think about what changing one of your dirty diapers is like for me. Now, I want you to get some sleep. It's been a trying day for both of us."
She stood up, tucked me in, and kissed me on the forehead.
"I love you, my baby-husband, no matter what."
She turned out the light and left the room. I tried to think about what she said, but it was just too much, and I drifted off into a less than peaceful sleep. I felt Kathy curl up against me, and I slept better after that. I was suddenly cold and flailing for the blankets.
"Wake up, sleepyhead," Kathy sang merrily. I was still in a fog. "Let's check that dipee. Oh, yes, all wet. Let's get you changed."
She was cutting through the tape she had wrapped around me before I could fully comprehend where I was, let alone what she was doing. I was more or less awake by the time she taped up the fresh diaper. She told me to put on some pants and come downstairs for breakfast.
I was greeted by a spread of pancakes and sausage. This was not unheard of on a Saturday morning, but it was usually me cooking it. I sat down and Kathy placed a mug of steaming coffee in front of me. I looked at her curiously.
"Yes, I know what I said last night about your being Mommy's baby this weekend, but I don't think we have to go overboard. You do need to wear and use your diapers, and you have to do as I tell you, but I'm not going to make you drink from bottles or talk baby talk … unless you want to, that is. Oh, and unless we go out in public, you will call me Mommy, okay? I don't have any plans to go anywhere, but you never know. And public does not include Nana's house."
I figured I could live with that, and I was already tucking into my pancakes anyway; so I nodded. "Oh fay."
"Don't talk with your mouth full. Then it's agreed."
I'm not ashamed to admit I was stuffed when I finally put down my fork after my third helping. Okay, maybe a little ashamed, but it was really good. Kathy had long since finished and was tidying up. She brought a wet cloth when she came for my plate.
"I know I said you wouldn't have to use a bottle, but maybe a bid might have been in order."
I looked down and saw a number of places where syrup had dripped on my shirt. I blushed. Kathy chuckled and wiped them off. Then she wiped my face and my hands. She said I could do the dishes. I thanked her, sarcastically, for the privilege, and she gave me a warning look. I laughed. She checked my diaper, which deflated me a little, even though it was dry, and I took up the task. I don't mind washing dishes, especially when it's not many and somebody did the cooking.
The rest of the day was mostly uneventful, other than the diaper checks and changes, our normal Saturday routine. The first was a little traumatic. I felt the urge to pee coming on while I was washing up from breakfast. All the coffee I drank wanted out, but I didn't want to just stand there and wet myself. Kathy noticed my little dance at the sink. She told me I may as well get it over with, because the diaper wasn't coming off until I needed a change. I did manage to hold off until I finished and got out of her sight, but by that time, I was desperate and it all came out in a rush, and I ended up with a very noticeable leak. Kathy just shook her head with an "I told you so" expression when I went to her but said nothing more about it when she changed me. After that, I didn't resist so much.
Sunday was shaping up to be more of the same. Kathy reminded me over breakfast, just cereal and coffee, that I had a big decision to make the next day and asked whether I had thought about it. I told her I had—I'd thought of little else—but hadn't made any decisions. I puttered around the house and spent some time on the computer. Kathy spent a lot of time on the phone.
Then we realized we hadn't anything in the fridge to make for dinner. Somebody was going to have to go to the store. Kathy told me to put on something decent; sweats and a t-shirt were not her idea of appropriate shopping attire.
"Do I have to go?"
"Of course, you have to go. I can't leave a baby home alone."
"Can't I stay with Nana?"
"No, we've been imposing on her enough. Just get dressed, and stop whining."
"But I don't want to go out like this."
"You are going out. No one is going to notice. The only question is whether you are going to go with a sore bottom, because I'm this far from spanking you."
"Okay. Okay. I'll go."
Kathy was right. Despite the fact that grabbing something for dinner turned into a major shopping trip, nobody seemed to notice my condition. All in all, there were no problems, at least until we were on the way home. That's when not pooping for the last couple of days decided to catch up with me. I was really trying to hold out until Monday, when I was sure I could get Kathy to let me use the toilet. No such luck.
We were barely out of the grocery store parking lot when the first cramp hit me, hard. I passed some gas and felt better. Kathy cracked her window, and I apologized. A few blocks later, it happened again. It wasn't long before the cramps started coming in waves. I was holding my own, but now I had to pee. I was very uncomfortable and starting to sweat. The last wave passed about the time we pulled in the driveway, and I felt I was home free, if you'll pardon the expression.
I got out of the car, and another cramp hit me so hard I nearly doubled over. I clamped down hard on my back door but forgot about my bladder. I started to pee. Shaken, I tried to stop that and lost control of my bowels. I was standing in the driveway, filling my pants front and back. I was mortified and scanning the neighborhood to see who might be watching.
Kathy rushed me into the house. She took me straight to the bathroom and got my shoes and pants off. No damage was done. She asked me if I was finished, and I admitted I wasn't sure. She told me to stay there; she would unload the car. In the eternity that followed, it turned out to be the right thing to do; I wasn't finished. My diaper was a saggy mess by the time Kathy returned. She held me for a long time and shushed away my attempts to apologize. She had me lie on the floor, and she started a bath. She toughed her way through removing the diaper and a cursory cleaning. She told me to soak while she put the groceries away.
I think I was starting to doze when she came back and began washing me. The bath was a tender time, and she acted as if nothing was out of the ordinary. I felt better, and Kathy showed me that dirty diapers or not, she was still interested in me as a husband. I was very content, and probably could have used another bath, by the time she was putting a new diaper on me.
The evening passed quietly. Kathy asked me if I might wasn't a bottle before bedtime. I told her that depended on what was in it. She smiled and told me to stay put. She came back a few minutes later with a bottle filled with wine. A baby bottle is not the best way to drink wine. It's really too much at one time, especially when one is being encouraged to drink it all up. The nipple doesn't do anything to improve the flavor. But lying with your head in the lap of your lover while getting quickly inebriated certainly makes up for it. I slept very well that night.
Morning came way too early for me. The sun was barely up, and I was having a nice dream.
"Get up, honey." I moaned and pulled the covers over my head. Kathy pulled them back down. "It's decision day, and I have to be at work in a couple of hours. Let's get you changed."
Kathy had me sorted quickly and let me have enough coffee to bring the world into focus before starting our discussion.
"Sweetheart, it's time," she started. She seemed as hesitant as I felt. "I guess the first question, and the one that kept me up a lot over the last few days, is: do you feel like something is wrong with your body? I mean with your accident yesterday, I have been really worried."
"No," I assured her. "I was just hoping I could make it till today. I didn't want to do that in the diaper. If I had been able to use the bathroom, it wouldn't have been a problem."
"So you held your poopies in until you had a big accident in your diaper anyway."
"Not very mature, was it?"
"I suppose not."
"So, you feel like you are healthy? Nothing wrong?"
"I don't think so."
"Well, that's a relief. The bedwetting is one thing. There are lots of reasons that can happen, and we'll get to the bottom of it eventually. But it doesn't explain your daytime accidents. Are you sure there's nothing going on inside?"
"Yes, I'm fine."
"Then why have you been peeing your pants? Can you feel when you need to go?"
"Does it hurt to go? Are you having a hard time going? Can't you hold it?"
"No, no, and no. I'm fine, really."
"Then why are you wetting your pants?"
She didn't seem concerned anymore, more irritated. "I don't know."
"Are you just trying to get my attention? Do you feel like I'm neglecting you?"
"No, of course not."
"Then what is it? Are you just being lazy?"
"I … I don't know."
"David, we both know that you can't go around wetting your pants all the time."
"It's not all the time."
"Don't interrupt. The way I see it, you are just being irresponsible. Like I told you before, if you don't want the responsibility, or if you don't want it, there are ways I can handle it. But if you want to be a big boy, you have to get a grip on this and stop wetting and pooping your pants right now. You've had all weekend to think about this. There are two choices left. You can be a responsible grown up, or you can be a little boy. So, what's it going to be?"
"What happens if I choose to be a grown up?"
"I'll expect you to act like a grown up. You look for a new job. Until you find one, you'll be expected to take care of the house. And I will not tolerate wet or poopy pants. There will be consequences, if that happens. That might be spanking you the first few times, but I will not put up with it indefinitely."
"You'd leave me?" I asked, visibly scared that she might.
"I'm not saying that. I don't plan to; I don't want to. I just can't say it's out of the question. I guess it depends on how hard you push me."
"Please, please don't. I don't want to lose you. What about the other choice? What if I was a little boy?"
"Sweetheart, I don't want to lose you either. I love you, no matter what you decide. But to answer your question, little boys are different. They can't be expected to be responsible all the time. Little boys have accidents in their pants. That's why they can't wear big boy undies. Mommies understand this. But little boys who wet themselves can't really be trusted to change themselves when they need to, can they? That means that they can't be left alone. They need to be watched to make sure they get changed regularly and don't get diaper rash, which means you'll have to stay with Nana while I'm at work. We have already discussed this, and it's all decided. On the other hand, because you can't expect too much from little boys, they get to play a lot more. Sure, they'll have some chores, but not like a grown up."
"You mean I'd have to wear diapers all the time? Could I maybe be a little boy and still wear regular underpants?"
"Sweetie, we discussed this. I think it's this half in, half out attitude that is causing your problems. I think that, for right now, you need to be a little boy, that it would be good for you, and that it's what you really want too. But I also think you are fighting it, trying to act like a grownup sometimes and not others. I think you are being pulled between what you want and need, on the one hand, and what you think you should be doing, on the other. I think it's that tension that's causing a lot of your problems. For your own sake, if not for mine, you need to pick one or the other, because not choosing is hurting both of us."
"But I don't want to wear diapers all the time."
"Don't whine, honey. I've thought about this a lot. I think it would be a lot easier if you did, but if you really don't want to, we can try you in training pants during the day. Nighttime is non-negotiable for now; so is naptime. But understand, your wearing training pants comes with a lot more responsibility for everyone. For you, that would mean telling me or Nana when you have to go potty. No, you cannot just go by yourself. Nana and I will each decide whether you need to be supervised, but I want you to tell us when you have to go, so we can keep track. Nana and I would also be telling you, from time to time, that we want you to sit on the potty and try. You said you are not sick; so there should be no excuses for having accidents in your training pants. If you do, Nana and I will each decide whether it deserves a spanking. I've already given her permission to spank you for this or any other disobedience. You do not want to find out what will happen if you give her any trouble about it. If you have two accidents in one day, you'll go back to diapers until I decide you are ready to try again. If you can live with those rules and promise to try really hard, we'll try you in training pants for the time being. Nana and I will also decide whether you should be in diapers, if we have to take you somewhere, and there won't be any arguments, understand?"
"Yes." She look at me expectantly. "Mommy."
"Alright. That's one way to go. Your other choice would be to just wear diapers all the time. You wouldn't have to worry about when you had to go potty. We'll check you and change you when you need it. If you want to make poopies in the potty, you can tell us. Let's face it; changing your dirty diapers is not fun. You don't have to, but you can. But we'll decide whether it's convenient to put you on the potty; so no whining. We may still tell you to try making peepee in the potty, but you are not to ask. If this is the way you want to go, I want you to relax and not be concerned about keeping your pants dry. Let us worry about them. No one will make a fuss over a wet or dirty diaper; that's what they are there for. You can play or do your chores and not worry about wetting your pants.
"So you have a couple of choices to make, and I need you to make them now. There are no wrong answers here. I love you and will support you whatever you decide. I want you to do what you think is best for you. First, do you want to try being a grownup, or do you want to be a little boy?"
I tumbled the alternatives in my brain. I had been completing it all weekend, but didn't have this new information to work with. Kathy waited patiently, but I caught her checking her watch.
"Little boy," I finally gave in.
"I really think that's for the best. So, diapers or training pants?"
"Can we do training pants, please?" I whined.
"Are you sure? You know the consequences, if you start having accidents."
I hesitated, asking myself whether I was making the right decision.
"Alright then. You had fair warning; so you had better not abuse the privilege. Now, I need to get to work. Let's check your diaper." She came around and put her hand on the front. "Still dry. That's fine. Just tell Nana when you need the potty, and she'll put you in your training pants. Now, go get dressed, or I'm going to be late."
"I don't get them now?"
"I told you before, I'm not wasting perfectly good diapers. Now, go get dressed, or would you prefer to discuss it over my lap."
"I'm going." I sighed.
By the time I was back downstairs, Kathy was waiting by the door with, what I could only assume, was my diaper bag. She took me by the hand and led me across the street. Nana opened the door as we approached.
"There he is," she sang. "That was a very grown up decision you made. But the last one for a while, hmm? We're going to have lots of fun together while you get all better, okay?"
I found myself shyly nodding my head and trying to slip behind Kathy.
Kathy defended me, saying, "I guess he's feeling a little shy this morning. Here's his diaper bag. He can help you bring more supplies over after he gets settled in, but that should hold you for now. He still has his diaper on from this morning, but we're going to try him in training pants for a while. We've discussed the rules. He can have his pull-ups after goes potty. I guess that's it for now. I think we discussed everything over the weekend, but if you run into any difficulties, you have my cell."
She kissed my cheek. "Be good for Nana. I don't want any bad reports. I love you, sweetie. Have fun today."
She took my hand from hers and gave it to Nana. Then she was off. Nana raised my hand and waved it for me. When Kathy's car was headed down the road, Nana took me inside. She asked me if I wanted something to eat. I told her I ate already. She filled a sippy cup with apple juice anyway.
"Why don't you just take that and go play with your trains. We can talk when you're a little more awake, okay?"
I was relieved to be off the hook for a while, and welcomed the chance to be alone with my thoughts. I nodded and headed for the basement.
Nana called after me. "Don't forget to come find me when you have to go potty."
That caused me to stop and cringe for a second. I guess that was enough acknowledgment for Nana, because she said no more. I blushed and continued on my way. I had planned on brooding over my new life, but once I got started with the trains, all other thoughts left my head. Sometime later, a voice invaded my play.
"Davey," it sang.
"David! Stop that train." Nana was standing at my shoulder. I cut the power and the train slowed to stop. "You answer when Nana calls you, young man. You've been down here quite a while. I think you had better take a break and sit on the potty, don't you?"
Now that she mentioned it, I did, more than I realized. "Uh huh."
"Come on then. I'll get you some more juice too."
I practically ran up the stairs to the bathroom. She shouted after me to slow down. I was in the bathroom trying to get my pants down when she caught up with me. It was difficult to do while dancing.
"Let's get that diaper off." She pushed my hands away and undid the tapes herself. She pulled it from between my legs and pushed me back to sit. A stream hit the water almost immediately. "Just in time, I see. Well, almost in time."
There was a small, but not inconsequential wet spot on the diaper. I was mortified.
"That's alright. I shouldn't have let you stay done there so long. We won't mention this, okay." I nodded gratefully. "Stay there, and I'll be right back with some dry pants."
She wasn't gone long but long enough for me to berate myself for not paying more attention to my bladder. I told her I could dress myself, but she insisted on helping. She suggested we take care of a few chores before lunch. These included going to my house to bring over more supplies. I said I didn't think we needed so many pairs of training pants, and I begged her not to bring the diapers.
"Better safe than sorry. Besides, you'll need them for your naps."
I didn't plan on taking any naps, but it seemed pointless to argue with her. So I trudged back across the street with a big cardboard box of what would be my underwear for the foreseeable future.
It was lunchtime, and Nana fixed us sandwiches. I was pleased she didn't try to make me wear a bib, but she did insist I use the sippy cup. Afterward, she had more chores for us. True to her word, she frequently asked me if I needed to use the potty, several times insisting that I try. I couldn't tell whether she was smiling or smirking when I produced. Late in the afternoon she suggested I watch TV until my mommy got home. I was happy to oblige. I must have nodded off, because Nana was pulling down my pants.
"Shh. Calm down, sweetheart. You're very tired, and I think we should get a diaper on you, just in case."
"I'll stay awake, I promise."
"Don't worry, honey. It's okay you don't want to take a nap. Nana will feel much better though, if we put your diaper on. Do you want to use the potty first?" I shook my head. There was no arguing with her. "Alright; if you're sure. We'll just put this on, and you can rest."
Safely wrapped up, she let me return to my movie. I didn't see the end. The sun was much lower when I heard Kathy's voice.
"I hope he wasn't any trouble today."
"Nothing serious dear. I left him to play too long this morning. He mostly made it in the potty. That was my fault, and you shouldn't say anything about it. Otherwise, he was a very good boy, hardly any fuss. He might be a little wet now. He didn't want to use the potty before I put him down for his nap."
I stretched, making it known that I was awake and giving me an opportunity to check my pants. I was disappointed to find Nana was right. I was a little wet.
"Hi, baby," Kathy beamed, sitting down next to me. "Did you have fun with Nana today?"
Other than the trains, I wouldn't have called it fun, but it wasn't bad. "Uh huh."
"And were you a good boy for Nana?"
I looked up at Mrs. Travers; she was smiling back at me. "Yes, Mommy. I was good."
"He sure was. He helped me a lot," Nana praised. I nodded in agreement.
"That's my good boy." Kathy hugged me. "But now it's time to get you home and fed. Thank Nana."
"Thank you, Nana," I said automatically.
I pushed back the blanket she must have covered me with and stood up. Kathy felt my crotch and appeared to come to some decision. She picked up the diaper bag and kissed Nana on the cheek.
"Yes, thank you, Mavis. I don't know what I'd do without you. Say bye-bye, Davey."
"Bye-bye, Nana. See you tomorrow."
"Think nothing of it, Kathy. It's my pleasure. Bye-bye, sweetheart. Maybe we'll make cookies tomorrow. How does that sound?" My face lit up.
"Don't get him thinking about cookies. I need to get dinner in him. Thanks again. I'll see you in the morning."
Kathy took me home and immediately started to take things out for dinner. I tried to help, but she insisted I sit down and tell her about my day. I did and watched her cook while feeling bad that she had worked all day and was now working again. I told her I was going to wash up and use the potty. I couldn't stop calling it that.
"It's alright, honey. Just use your diaper. It's already damp, and I'm going to have to change you for bedtime anyway."
I sulked back to the bathroom. I wet myself while washing my hands. Dinner was up to Kathy's usual standards. I would have made a pig of myself, if she'd have let me. She left the washing up to me, which alleviated my guilt. Kathy came back as I was drying the last dish.
"Okay, baby, bath time."
"Already? I don't want to go to bed yet."
"I didn't say you had to go to bed, but if you're getting cranky, maybe you should."
"That's better. Come on then."
Bath time was fun. Kathy had picked up some bath toys. It took some encouragement on her part for me to try them out. After pushing a boat around tentatively, she left me alone. Without an audience, it was easier for me to try playing. I was really getting into it when she came back. I didn't want to stop, but she said I was already pruning up, and she needed to get me clean. Her ministrations were fun too.
Dried and back in the bedroom, I saw a large cloth diaper on the bed. "Where did that come from?"
"I picked those up today," she said, as if she were talking about a new pair of socks. "The lady at the store said they were much more effective for nighttime, especially for side sleepers. She told me they are very comfortable too."
I wasn't at all sure about this. Arguing with Kathy is rarely productive, but maybe I could distract her. "But it's still early. I'm not ready to go to bed yet."
"It's not that early. You'll be going to bed soon. You may as well get ready now."
"But what if I need to pee?"
"Well, we'll just have to take it off. Anyway, you just went, and it's not like it wouldn't be the first wet diaper you slept in, would it?"
"Then lay your butt down, so I can get your diaper on, and we can watch TV for a while. Or would you prefer I give you a spanking and put you to bed right now?"
I made the only sensible decision. Instead of closing the diaper up right away, Kathy started smearing sticky, white paste on my bottom. "The clerk said it's important to protect against diaper rash when using cloth."
Lots of powder followed. Kathy's rubbing everything in overcame any displeasure I had with the experience. All too son, Kathy brought the front of the diaper up and pinned it in place. She threaded plastic pants over my feet and had me stand up. The cloth diaper—or diapers I should say; there were obviously several—felt entirely different, the plastic pants even more so. The diaper was pleasantly soft, although it inhibited my movements, much like the double disposables had. The plastic pants were scratchy around the openings. They came up well onto my abdomen and ballooned out. They were somewhat stiff and made a soft, almost crackly sound when I moved.
I caught sight of myself in Kathy's chevalier mirror. Let's be clear; there is nothing mature looking about a man in an adult diaper, except perhaps the knowledge that old people wear them. However, there is something vaguely clinical about them, and under the right clothes, they are relative discrete. On the other hand, a thick cloth diaper covered by billowing plastic pants is nothing short of infantile. It would take a lot to overcome the impression that the wearer is a big baby who can't control himself. I stared at my reflection for a long time, pondering what I was becoming.
"I think you look adorable," Kathy said, hugging me from behind. "Here, let's put your jammies on, and then we can go watch some TV, okay?"
I tore my eyes away from the mirror and let Kathy dress me. I was still stunned and had no will to resist. As I walked down the stairs, I felt I was moving as I looked, like a baby. The swaying of my hips and the rustling of the plastic pants confirmed with each step the road I was on.
"What's the matter, baby?" Kathy asked when she saw my tears.
"That," I said, pointing at the mirror. "That's what's the matter. I'm turning into a baby. What's wrong with me?"
"Oh, honey, there's nothing wrong with you. You're still my big strong man. It's just that you're my adorable little baby too. And I love you so much!"
"How can you love me like … this?"
"Sweetie, sweetie, I love you like this, or any other way. This is what you need right now. There's nothing wrong with it. You're having a bit of rough patch right now, and we are dealing with it the best way we know how. You're just feeling vulnerable, and that's okay. In fact, it's more than okay; it's attractive."
"You find this attractive?"
"Yes, I do. You may not realize it, but you have been far more open than you have been in a really long time. I feel I am able to get closer to you than I can remember. You are letting me in on your feelings, where you have been hiding them for years. It feels good to be needed. If what you are wearing helps with all that, I'm more than okay with it. Truth be told, I find the fact that I'm 'in charge' of some things very sexy." As if to prove the point, she snuggled closer and rubbed the front of my pants. She placed my hand on her own crotch, which was noticeably hot and damp. "I love you, baby, and I always will. Now, how about a smile for Mommy? Can you do that? Would you like Mommy's titty? Would that make you feel better?"
Let's just say I was feeling much better by the time we went to sleep.
Over the next several weeks, after some trial and error, we settled into a routine. Kathy would drop me off at Nana's house. I would have breakfast and some time to wake up with the paper or internet. There's be some chores to do before lunch. Afterward, I would be put down for a nap. At first, I fought this, but after getting spankings from both Nana and Kathy, I stopped resisting. After my nap, I'd help nana with whatever she wanted to do. Sometimes, it was chores; other times, it was baking or shopping. Then, I had playtime; that usually meant the trains.
The reason I disliked the naps, and why I fought them the way I did, was that Nana and Kathy insisted that I be diapered, just in case. That wouldn't have been so bad, but they also insisted that throwing away a dry diaper was just wasteful. I did not get my training pants back until I was wet. I think that contributed to my increasingly frequent naptime wettings.
I mostly enjoyed my time with Nana. She was sweet, always made me feel special, and often gave me treats. I was starting to put on weight. The downside was her approach to "toilet training" me. She made me try to use the potty far more frequently than necessary. I wouldn't have minded so much, but it always seemed to be at an inopportune moment, and she insisted on taking me and helping me with my pants. I told her I could just go myself, but she would have none of it. She said she had to make sure I hadn't had an accident and that I did something in the toilet. If I didn't produce, the look of disappointment on her face was deeply disheartening. If several attempts did not result in anything, she would make be sit there until something happened. She would get very cross and tell me she was not going to let me wet my pants just because I was too lazy or obstinate to use the potty like a big boy. My protests that she was just making me try too often, and that I always made when I asked to use the potty, fell on deaf ears.
This poor timing came to a head one day when I was laying with the trains. I had been very wet after my nap, and nana made me use the potty a couple of times while doing my chores. I didn't need to go when she took me up a while into my playtime. About fifteen minutes after she let me go downstairs, I started to feel the urge. I was sure she would be back to get me soon, as that had become the pattern. She didn't, and I continued play as my bladder became more insistent. I was getting toward the point of desperation when I went to find Nana and tell I needed the potty.
I found her on the phone. I stood and watched her until she took notice of me. She excused herself and covered the mouthpiece. She asked me what I wanted, and I told her of my need.
"I just took you a few minutes ago."
"I didn't need to go then."
"If that's true, you shouldn't need to go that badly now. I'll be with you when I'm off the phone. Go play."
"Sorry, about that," she said into the receiver. "I'm watching the neighbor's boy, and he wanted my attention. ... He says he needs to go potty, but I just took him five minutes ago. … No, no, I'm sure he can hold it for a couple of minutes. He needs to learn that he can't just go the moment he feels like it. … You, boys are always more difficult to train. … Ha, ha, ha, yes, men too. Davey, go play. I'll be with you as soon as I'm off the phone."
I ducked back downstairs, muttering to myself that it had been a lot more than five minutes, and she should have just let me go by myself. I tried to play some more, but my need was growing stronger. A few minutes later, I was back upstairs and making gestures to indicate that time was of the essence. She wasn't paying attention.
"Nana," I whispered. Nothing.
"Nana," I said a little louder.
"Nana," I whined, louder still and fearful I would be heard over the phone.
"Davey, don't interrupt. I told you I would be right with you. If you can't behave yourself, you can go stand in the corner. Go on, march." Her look left no doubt that she was serious. I stomped my foot and went to the corner the indicated. "I'm sorry. You were saying?"
Her conversation went on and on. It wasn't long before I was clutching myself and shifting from foot to foot.
"What? Yours too? I guess you had better be going. Goodbye, Debbie. Give my love to Tony." She must have been talking to her daughter-in-law. She hung up the phone and walked up behind me. She gave a hard swat to my behind. That was more than I could take, and a large squirt erupted into my training pants.
"David, I'm very disappointed in you. Don't you know it's rude to interrupt when someone is on the phone? I bet you don't interrupt your Mommy when she's on the phone, do you?"
"No," I conceded. "But …"
"But nothing. Whatever it was could have waited. I told you I wasn't going to be long."
"But I had to go potty," I whined.
"You're a big boy, you can hold it for a couple of minutes, can't you?"
"Yeah," I said tentatively.
"Let's get you to the potty then," she sighed.
Once in the bathroom, I started to undo my pants. I was really hoping she would go away. Instead, she brushed my hands away and took over.
"David! How could you? You said you could hold it. I thought you were a big boy."
"I am. I can. But … you spanked me."
"That little slap on the tushy? That's your excuse? Well, we'll just see about that. I'll show you what a real spanking is, after you finish on the potty. If there's anything left, that is."
She pushed me down firmly onto the seat and, much to my embarrassment, pushed my pee down between my legs for me. She would usually leave me alone to do my business, but not this time. She hovered, glaring at me and tapping her foot. I forced myself to overcome my bladder shyness and peed a still considerable amount. I felt the rumblings of a bowel movement coming on, but with Nana standing there, it wasn't going to happen.
When she decided it was done, grabbed my wrist, pulled me up, flushed the toilet, and dragged me to her room with my pants still around my ankles. She grabbed a hairbrush off her dresser and sat down on her bed. I was over her knees in a trice. She put the hairbrush to work right away and had me blubbering out excuses, apologies, and promises before I could think. She kept up a steady barrage of scolding.
"I just can't believe it, a big boy like you, interrupting me on the phone, peeing his pants, blaming it on one little slap, can't wait a couple of minutes to use the potty. I've known toddlers better behaved. Just wait till your Mommy hears about this. I'm sure she won't be happy. I can tell you this. You' won't be wetting your pants again in my house, not today. You're going right back into diapers where you belong."
I'm not sure those were her exact words, but they were the gist of it. I'm not even sure she heard my protests that I tried, and she was a lot longer than a couple of minutes on the phone. I hadn't realized she stopped when she made me stand up and dragged me to the room I napped in. She pushed me down on the bed and got a diaper out. My blazing behind was wrapped up before I knew, and she was telling me I would be staying in bed the rest of the afternoon.
"And if I hear one peep out of you, you'll think that spanking was playing pat-a-cake."
She left me sobbing, while she muttered about the earful my mommy was going to get later. I willed myself to sleep, anything to avoid thoughts of what Mommy was going to say when she got there. I felt a gentle shaking of my shoulder, drawing me back to the land of the living. I was grateful to escape my troubled dreams, but when I saw Mommy sitting beside me, my eyes began to fill with tears again. I opened my mouth to beg her forgiveness, but she placed a finger over my lips.
"Not now, sweetie. We'll talk about it when we get home." She helped me to sit up and put on some pants. "Let's get you home and fed, and we'll have a nice long talk, okay?"
She didn't seem mad. That worried me. It wasn't like Kathy to restrain her feelings, and when she did, it usually resulted in a real blowout. She took my hand and led me downstairs. I followed with trepidation. Nana was waiting. She appeared considerably calmer too. I didn't understand, but I was not unhappy when she gave me a warm hug and a kiss on the cheek, with promises to see me tomorrow.
Kathy was crossing the street leisurely, but my stress level went up with every step closer to our house. I was sure she would lower the boom as soon as we were behind closed doors. Instead, she pulled me into an embrace and rocked me. Without letting go, she made a quick diaper check and announced I would be fine until after supper.
She took me into the kitchen and had me sit, while she prepared our meal. I asked if I could help, but she wouldn't hear of it. It was a simple supper, which I would have enjoyed more if I hadn't been waiting for the other shoe to drop.
"Sweetie, about what happened at Nana's today," she began. Here it comes, I thought. "Nana wanted me to apologize for her getting so upset with you. After she put you down and had time to think, she realized that she really was talking for a long time, and she should have listened to you and taken you to the potty sooner."
"If she'd just let me go by myself …"
"Shh. It's okay. We know you are having trouble making it to the potty in time, and we shouldn't keep you waiting."
"But I can," I protested.
"Honey, are your pants wet now?"
Without thinking, I put my hands to my crotch, and blushed when I felt the squish.
"Come here, baby."
I stood and walked around to her. She unbuttoned my pants and pushed them down. She squeezed the front of my diaper and looked at me.
"Sweetie, you are more wet than when I got you up from your nap. Did you know that?" I didn't, and I felt another cry coming on. "There, there, sweetheart. Don't worry. Mommy's not mad. I know you can't help it. I think you're worrying about keeping your pants dry is getting to be too much for you. You're just not ready yet."
"I am," I whined.
"No, honey, I don't think so. That's why Mommy got you some new diapers today. They're cloth and have Velcro. You'll be able to feel if you wet them, and Nana will be able to get them off in a hurry if she has to. I don't want you to worry about making it to the potty in time. Nana will take you when she thinks you should try, but if you wet your diaper, nobody is going to be mad. No more spankings for wet pants, doesn't that sound good?"
Something in her logic felt wrong, but I found myself nodding in agreement.
"We can try potty training again after a while, but for right now, I want you to relax and not think about it, okay? You just play and help Nana and Mommy when we ask. Will you do that for Mommy?"
Kathy was being so nice about the whole thing, I just sniffled and nodded my ascent. She stood up and drew me into a hug that I could have stayed in forever.
"Let's get you a nice tubby and then you can go night-night, okay?"