SallyKAT

Thanks for taking the time to translate this, LG, and a Happy New Year to you too.

Chris the Clever Boarder Chapter 8 'He's so slight,' said Gwen, after Abigail had changed Chris in the family restroom at the park. Chris and Anna were amusing themselves on the nearby play equipment. 'He's perfect,' said Abigail. 'He posted some photos of himself in diapers on a fetish network. He'd cropped his head off, so his fine little features and that sweet, light voice are a bonus. But honestly, I thought he was about 15. I'm surprised that the 'no child content' rules didn't catch him, actually. 'He looks so girlish in shortalls, too,' said Gwen. 'Especially at the front. There's nothing there at all. What did you do?' 'He's not a 'big boy', down there, Gwen,' Abigail said. 'Little balls close up to his tummy, and the softest little willy you can imagine. I pushed it downwards as far as I could. Not a squeak from him. A lot of us have more, well, you know, down there than he has.' 'Cute,' said Gwen. 'The diaper makes him look even more like a girl in front, too,' she added. 'Even a little chubby. Puppy fat.' 'Yes,' replied Abigail. 'I didn't give him the option of pull-ups. I think that's what he wears normally, but he didn't object.' 'That other stuff you gave him helps,' said Gwen. 'With objecting, I mean.' 'It does,' said Abigail. 'It makes him more timid and emotional, so that's where the tears come from. I think he's a natural submissive, even if he doesn't know it. I think he was instantly scared of me when .I told him off for not wiping his feet in the shop.' 'For sure,' said Gwen. 'Even with Anna. Look how he waits for her lead all the time.' The women watched Anna and Chris playing for a minute. 'Mm,' said Abigail. 'The pecking order in that little hierarchy is established. Anna is the boss.' 'Well, she is six,' said Gwen with a grin. 'Oh, I don't think his behavioural age is less than that,' said Abigail. 'I think he's more like an immature, I don't know, pre-teen anyway.' 'But he needs diapers,' said Gwen. 'So did the other Chris,' said Abigail, 'By the time she left. But she acted her age, 14. Anyway, Chris fits in with Anna. I think they're good friends already.' 'Anna thinks she's a girl. Is that going to be a problem?' asked Gwen. 'I shouldn't think so,' replied Abigail. 'I treat her as a girl, anyway, little willy or no little willy.' 'I must admit, so do I,' said Gwen, looking at the pair again. 'How did you get him to wear that ribbon?' Abigail laughed. 'He doesn't know,' she said. 'I had it ready in my pocket and I slipped it around his pony tail when I tidied his hair after changing him.' 'Are you going to keep up the diuretics?' asked Gwen. 'As long as I need to,' said Abigail. 'And my special chocolates, too,' she added with a giggle. 'I'll avoid those!' said Gwen. 'Don't worry, they're clearly marked,' said Abigail, 'Though you might enjoy the effect.' 'Wetting is bad enough!' said Gwen. 'I'm a grown woman, Abi.' 'In diapers,' Abigail replied with a smirk. 'Pull-ups,' corrected Gwen. 'Temporarily.' 'You hope,' said Abigail. 'Abi, stop it! And do not put any of that stuff in my tea, thank you,' said Gwen. 'Too late, my dear,' said Abigail with a grin. 'Abi!' said Gwen. 'I was wondering why I was wet in the car!' 'Lasts 24 hours without a topup,' said Abigail. 'Oh, Abi!' said Gwen. 'Bill and I are going to his work dinner tonight!' 'Take a spare,' said Abi. 'Abi, you really are a stinker!' said Gwen. 'And, oh,' she added, putting a hand to her groin. 'I'm wetting again!' 'Here,' said Abigail, taking a Molicare pull-up from her large bag and handing it to Gwen. 'Back to the family restroom for you, baby.' '24 hours,' said Gwen, taking the pull-ups, shaking her head and smiling at her friend, then heading for the restroom. 'Would you like some help?' Abigail called after her. 'No!' said Gwen, and the image of Abi diapering her flashed into her head again. 'You're just... naughty, Abi,' she added as she walked with a slight pregnant waddle towards the little brick building. At least Abi hadn't slipped her the 'emotion intensifier' or whatever it was. She felt herself wetting yet again as she reached the restroom. She put her hand between her legs and felt damp denim. She was glad that her jeans were quite new and still dark blue. To be continued.

Chris the Clever Boarder Chapter 7 They took Gwen's Range Rover to the park in the next town. Abigail sat with Gwen in the front seats, and Chris was with Anna in the back, also accompanying part of Anna's doll collection. For the first ten minutes or so of the trip, Chris tried to take part in the conversation going on in the front seats, but by the time they reached the motorway section of their route, Chris was finding it hard to keep his comments, which were really interjections, relevant. The women's responses to him were becoming more short, even curt, as Chris interrupted their discussion about babies and child rearing. As Chris sat back in frustration, he watched Anna playing with her dolls. He could see if he looked carefully that Anna was in pull-ups. He looked down at his own hips and saw to his shock that he definitely looked diapered. He hoped that Abigail was right, and that not only would no one be looking at the gentle, flat curve of his tummy, but that they wouldn't be looking at the bulges at his hips, and he knew, under his bottom as well. Seeing Chris less occupied, Anna considered him a possible playmate. Turning to him, she asked him what his favourite doll was of the three she sat on the broad rear seat between them. They were all chubby little girl dolls, with soft bodies and limbs, and realistic plastic heads. To humour Anna, Chris chose the dark haired one in the middle, which was dressed in a neat little denim shortall. 'She's my second favourite!' Anna squealed. 'You chose her because she looks like you.' 'Yes,' said Chris, not wanting to disagree with Anna. 'These are all girl dolls,' Anna explained. 'I've got two boy ones at home. They're always naughty. I don't like boys, do you?' 'Er, they're ok,' said Chris. 'They're horrible,' continued Anna. 'I went to a school that had boys, and they were rotten. I go to a girls' school now. Are there boys at your school?' 'Erm, not really,' replied Chris, feeling the strange tingle again. 'Good,' said Anna. 'Girls' schools are best. What's your favourite lesson?' Chris didn't want to get into an embarrassing explanation of why he looked so young and feminine. He thought about his junior school days. 'Art,' he said truthfully. 'Me too!' said Anna excitedly. 'We can do some art! I've got paints at home and everything! Mommy, can Chris come over to our place? I can show her all my drawings!' Gwen and Abigail had been smiling at each other as they heard the conversation between the pair in the back seat. 'I think so, honey, but you'd have to ask Abigail. She's looking after Chris at the moment,' replied Gwen. 'I think we can do that,' said Abigail, smiling.again at Gwen. 'You've got a diaper on,' said Anna, looking at Chris's well padded rump. 'I've only got a pull-up, and I'm dry. Do you always have a diaper?' 'Sometimes,' said Chris quietly. 'Her name's Molly,' said Anna, returning her focus to the dolls. 'This is Bonnie. Hullo Molly,' she said, holding her doll to face the doll Chris was holding. 'Look, Molly, I can jump!' she said, bouncing Bonnie up and down. 'Go on, Chris, make Molly do something.' Chris held Molly up uncertainly. 'Hi, erm, Bonnie,' he said. 'I can jump too.' Chris moved Molly up and down. 'That's what Bonnie can do,' said Anna. 'She has to do something different.' 'OK,' said Chris. 'I can clap my hands,' he said, and clapped the doll's soft hands. Anna giggled. This was actually fun, thought Chris. 'I can stand on my hands,' said Anna, tipping Bonnie upside down. 'Whoops,' she said as the doll's dress fell back to expose her pink frilly panties. 'Everyone can see my panties. It's a good thing there are no boys here. She tipped the doll back upright and smoothed down the little dress. 'Let's make Bonnie and Molly go on an adventure across the seat,' Anna said, holding her doll next to Chris's. Chris became enjoyably absorbed in manipulating Molly in her role of co-adventurer. Gwen and Abigail were also enjoying the giggles and the silly conversation of the dolls and their operators in the back seat. The game was still going on as they turned off the motorway into winding local roads. 'We're going to stop at a service station, kids,' said Gwen. 'If anyone needs a pee before we get to the park.' 'I don't, and I'm dry!' said Anna. Chris realised that he had wet his diaper. He wasn't sure when that had happened. He felt himself blushing again. 'Chris?' said Abigail. 'Do you need a pee?' 'I'm OK,' he replied. 'Is that "I'm OK dry', or "I'm OK wet', honey?' asked Abigail. She knew the answer. Chris's cups of tea had strong diuretics in them, supplementing the drink's natural effect. 'A bit wet,' Chris said quietly. 'Sorry.' 'No problem,' said Abigail. 'I'll change you when we get to the park.' 'That's why you have to wear a diaper,' said Anna helpfully. 'My pull-ups are all dry.' 'Shush, Anna,' said Gwen. 'Chris can't help it.' 'So she has to wear diapers. She looks big but she's not really,' said Anna. Chris felt quite hurt, because he thought Anna was his friend. I'm 23, he told himself. I'm a man. I shouldn't be feeling like this. Then he looked down at the doll he was holding, that he'd been playing with for the last half hour. He'd even felt a wish to keep the doll, but he knew she was Anna's. He felt his wet diaper beneath his bottom again. He was bigger than Anna, but her pull-ups were dry, and he had wet his diaper. An odd mix of jealousy of Anna and embarrassment at wetting his diaper welled up in him along with tears. He clutched the doll and turned to the window, tears running down his cheeks. 'Anna!' said Gwen, turning around as she heard Chris crying. 'That's not very nice. Tell Chris you're sorry.' Anna turned to Chris. 'I'm sorry,' she said. 'You can have Bonnie too, for a while,' she added, holding the doll out to Chris. Chris felt a bit better, and took the doll. I'm 23, he told himself again. As if in answer, he felt a flood of warm pee between his legs. 'I think we'll go straight to the park, if that's ok with you, Gwen,' said Abigail. 'Good idea,' said Gwen. 'I don't need the service station bathroom either,' she added. 'Chris isn't the only one with a wet diaper.' Abigail giggled, and patted her friend's thigh. 'Don't expect me to change you, though,' she said with a laugh. From somewhere an image came to Gwen of her lying back naked, exposing her plump, bare vulva to Abigail who was efficiently talcing and diapering her. It made her smile with pleasure. 'Ohh!' said Gwen in mock disappointment. To be continued.

Chris the Clever Boarder Chapter 6 The group settled down to the tea and biscuits. 'I love tea parties!' Anna said happily, as Abigail poured the tea from a pretty porcelain teapot. 'Do you?' she asked Chris, turning to him as she munched a shortbread biscuit. 'Yes,' said Chris. He'd never actually been to a tea party before, but he was feeling very comfortable and well accepted. He felt pleased that Anna seemed to like him, too, despite their age difference. He didn't have many friends, and it was a nice feeling to have even a child so friendly and outgoing towards him. 'More tea, Chris?' Abigail said. 'Yes thanks,' said Chris, and watched Abigail refill his cup. 'How are the pull-ups, Gwen?' Abigail asked her friend and customer. 'Excellent,' replied Gwen. 'I haven't had a single wet spot,' she added, leaning back and spreading her legs a little to show the slightly bulging but dry vee of denim in her crotch. 'I had a change this morning. They're very comfortable, and it's a good feeling to be able to go out without having to worry about wetting my pants.' Chris knew the feeling. He wished again that he had his pullup on. 'Speaking of going out,' Abigail said, 'I think we could all go to the park in the next town later. There are lots of things to do there, and I'm sure Anna and Chris would enjoy it.' 'Anna and Chris', Chris repeated to himself. It was only a phrase, but it struck Chris. Not only was he dressed like Anna, but Abigail had casually referred to them both in one breath. It probably meant nothing, he thought, but it still gave him an odd little tingle. 'Mommy wears diapers, but I don't,' said Anna suddenly. 'She wets her pants. I'm not wearing diapers because I'm a big girl.' Both women laughed. 'Mommy wears pull-ups, darling, not diapers, and she wears them because she is making your little brother or sister, Anna,' Gwen replied. 'And it's not quite true that you don't ever wear diapers, is it honey?' 'Mommy!' objected Anna. 'It's alright, darling, Abigail understands,' Gwen told her. 'I buy your night time diapers from her shop, and you do still need pull-ups for long car trips. Most little girls do.' Anna turned to Chris. 'Do you have pull-ups in the car,' she asked him, 'Or wet your bed?' Chris blushed furiously. Both because he had an odd feeling that Anna thought he was a girl, and a young one at that, and because he did wet the bed and needed to wear something for long trips. He shifted in his chair. He needed the toilet again. Abigail looked at Chris. She felt a guilty pleasure in enjoying his obvious discomfort. 'Honey, that's Chris's business. Now let's finish these biscuits, then we can go to the park,' she said. 'I haven't wet my pants in the daytime for a year,' Anna announced. 'Not quite a year, sweetie,' said Gwen, leaning over and kissing her daughter. Chris felt an urge in his groin. 'Erm, excuse me, I have to use the bathroom,' he said, and pushing his chair back, he stood up. 'I'll help you with your straps,' said Abigail, also standing. 'Then we can get moving.' 'I'll clean up here,' said Gwen. 'Thanks,' said Abigail. 'Come on, Chris,' she said, and headed upstairs with him. 'Does she still wet her pants?' he heard Anna ask Gwen as they reached the stairs. Chris felt a strange surge of emotion, accompanied by an urgent need to pee. He tried to clench his lower abdominal muscles as he climbed the stairs with Abigail. By the time they reached the bathroom, Chris was transferring his weight from one foot to the other. 'Just stand still for a moment, honey,' said Abigail, facing Chris as she undid the clasps of the straps above his bib. Chris was desperate to pee. He put one hand to his crotch, not caring that Abigail was in front of him. 'Hold on, baby,' Abigail said. 'Nearly done.' Abigail pulled down the bib of Chris's shortalls, and moved his hand away to lower his panties. Chris let out a small groan, and waddled rapidly across the tiled floor with his panties and shortalls around his knees, and flung himself onto the toilet, where he peed volubly into the bowl. 'Oh, sweetie, you should have said earlier,' said Abigail, looking at Chris kindly. She could see that he was close to tears. Abigail let Chris sit for a minute, composing himself. Chris sat, not looking at Abigail. He hesitated for a moment, then took some toilet paper and wiped his genitals. 'Good boy,' said Abigail. 'Now, let's get you dressed again. Chris stood up and quietly began pulling up his panties and shortalls. 'Just a moment,' said Abigail. She bent forwards and examined Chris's panties. 'You've wet these a little,' she said, 'But your shortalls are ok,' she added, looking at the denim. 'I'm sorry,' said Chris. 'I didn't mean to.' 'Of course not,' said Abigail. 'But it's quite alright. Accidents happen. We'll have to get you some clean panties, though.' Abigail left Chris standing in the bathroom, and soon returned from his bedroom with another pair of full cut panties. 'Flowers this time,' she said, 'But still quite plain.' She helped Chris off with his shortalls, and held out the panties for Chris to step into.Then she paused. 'Chris,' she said, 'This might be an odd question, but would you like to wear some protection for the trip to the park? It's just that it's quite a way, and on the motorway, You've had two big cups of tea, and we don't want another accident. There's no shame in wearing pull-ups for a car trip. Anna will be wearing hers.' Chris bit his lip. This wasn't his plan at all. Another accident, he thought. It didn't really sound like a question, either. He was quiet for a moment. 'Well, OK,' he said, and the tears welled in his eyes. Abigail kissed him on the forehead, and went to a cupboard in the bathroom. She returned with a folded pink and white diaper and a container of talc. 'These are better than pull-ups,' she said, unfolding the bulky rectangle. 'Just pop down on the bathmat, honey.' Chris sniffled and wiped his eyes. 'Hey,' said Abigail gently. 'It's not the end of the world. Lots of girls and boys wear these. You'll feel much more comfortable and you won't have to worry about wetting your pants.' Chris sat on the bathmat and Abigail nudged his legs apart. 'Are they...?' he began. 'They're Chris's honey. She needed them just the same as you do,' said Abigail. Chris was still crying softly as Abigail talced his groin and folded the diaper around him. She pushed his soft little penis downwards and pulled up the front of the diaper then secured the tapes. Then she patted the smooth front of her handiwork and helped Chris to his feet. Chris stood and stepped into his shortalls. Abigail tugged the garment upwards and clipped the straps over his shoulders onto his bib. The shortalls were snug around his bottom as the straps pulled them gently but firmly upwards. Chris felt the same reassuring feeling of containment his panties gave him. 'Hold on,' Abigail said, and tidied Chris's hair and rebanded his ponytail. 'There,' she added. 'All done.' Chris looked at his reflection in the bathroom mirror. He saw a pretty young girl. He moved his gaze and his fingers to his crotch. Except for the central seam, the denim looked and felt completely smooth as it curved from his waist between his legs. 'I look like a girl,' he said, his tears starting to rise again. 'You look absolutely adorable,' said Abigail. 'No one's going to be looking at your tummy. Come on, let's go down to the others.' Abigail put out one hand, which Chris happily took. His world was spinning a little, and he was glad of the security of an adult hand. To be continued.

Hi Rachel - I agree with you. Nappies and pitchers are more infantile, but I'll still stick with diapers for the reasons above. You could always cut and paste the story and do a replace all diapers with nappies.

Chris the Clever Boarder Chapter 5 Reluctantly, Chris climbed out of the big bath. He'd had a good wash, using the only soap and shampoo that was available, and he could smell the scented steam riding from his bare body as he glanced at the closed door before setting up his carefully planned deception. He picked up his wet jeans, underpants, shirt and socks from a chair by the bath, and the apron from the hook on the wall where he'd hung it after using the toilet. He submerged the clothes in the still full bath, squeezing and swirling them around before transferring them to the big pedestal washbasin, where he continued to squash and rinse them. He was still squeezing and rinsing when there was a light knock on the door, followed by the click of the handle being opened. Chris stiffened, and looked around for a towel. Abigail entered the room. 'Hi Chris,' she said breezily. 'Are you washing your clothes? There's no need to do that, honey. I've put your other clothes in the wash, and I'll add these - if you can squeeze them dry enough,' she added with a laugh. Abigail smiled as she looked at Chris's neat little bottom as he stood stock still facing the handbasin. 'I'm sorry, Abigail,' he said. 'I'll just, I mean, can you get me a towel? I should have got it before...' Abigail laughed again. 'Don't worry, honey. I've seen plenty of naked little girls and boys before,' she said, taking a soft pink towel from a hook and approaching Chris. 'Arms up,' she said, standing behind Chris. 'I can do it,' said Chris, trying to reach around to take the towel from Abigail without exposing himself. 'No need,' said Abigail, lifting one of Chris's arms. Chris gave in and lifted the other arm. Abigail wrapped the towel around Chris's back, rubbing him vigorously in the process. 'Turn around,' she said. Chris turned, trying to hunch a little for modesty. 'Up straight,' said Abigail. Oh well, thought Chris, and stood up straight. 'That's better,' said Abigail. 'Now we'll get you all dry.' Chris closed his eyes, and let Abigail rub his chest and stomach, and gently pad the towelling around his penis and scrotum. She stood back a little and admired Chris's smooth, hairless chest and the curls of dark public hair above his flaccid little penis. 'What a neat little figure you have,' said Abigail approvingly. Chris didn't know what to say as Abigail quickly rolled and twisted the top of the towel around Chris's chest. 'There you are, honey, all dry and clean. I bet that feels better,' she said. 'Yes,' said Chris. 'Thank you.' If his being naked didn't worry Abigail, he wasn't going to make an issue of it. 'Erm, are my other clothes actually in the wash?' he asked. He hadn't allowed for that. 'Yes, honey,' said Abigail. 'They were filthy. Very grimy, and they smelled of London traffic.' They didn't, she thought. They smelled of Boots' baby talc. She knew the smell. 'Oh,' said Chris. 'I have to wear something.' He was at a bit of a loss. 'How long will my clothes take to wash and dry?' he asked. 'I could stay here until they're done.' 'Don't be silly,' Abigail replied. 'We'll find you something. My clothes are all adult, and you'd look like Charlie Chaplin. Chris is almost your size. I'm sure we can find you something of hers to wear.' 'But, girls'...' began Chris. 'Don't worry,' said Abigail. 'Well find something that's not too feminine.' Chris didn't reply. He hoped the other Chris had some jeans or something. Abigail led Chris from the bathroom into Chris's bedroom. She went to a wardrobe and opened it, revealing a brightly coloured selection of garments hanging neatly inside. 'Let me see,' she said. 'Ah, here we are!' Chris was gratified to see Abigail unhook from the rail some light blue denim. 'You'll need a top too, and some undies,' she said. 'Undies?' said Chris. 'Well, bare skin against clothing isn't good,' said Abigail. 'There are some quite plain ones here,' she added, going to a chest of drawers. 'Did Chris leave all her clothes here?' asked Chris. 'Most of them,' replied Abigail. Chris wondered again where the other Chris had gone, but Abigail had now found a top after considering several choices, and asked Chris to sit on the bed. 'First,' said Abigail, 'Panties.' Chris wished she hadn't called them that. Abigail held up a pair of full cut, pale pink cotton briefs. 'Best I can do,' she said. 'There's a bit of lace at the edges and a little bow in the middle here, but other than that there's not much difference from boy's undies. In you hop.' Chris raised one leg, awkwardly holding the roll of towelling to his chest. He didn't know why Abigail hadn't put the towel around his waist. Abigail helped by raising the towel and pulling the panties up as Chris put his other leg in. 'I can get dressed myself,' he said as Abigail pulled the panties up to his waist, with a full view of his crotch. 'Just as easy for me to do it,' she said. 'Now, you don't need a bra, so let's pop your top on.' Chris put a hand to the smooth cotton panties. He felt oddly enveloped by them. He could feel their light pressure across his whole bottom, high up to the small of his back. Chris looked down at the top in Abigail's hands. It was a pale yellow t shirt with something on the front of it. 'My Little Pony', said Abigail. 'Chris's favourite. But it's very small, and no one will notice it. Your bib will cover most of it.' 'Bib?' asked Chris. 'Not a real bib,' said Abigail with a laugh. 'The front of these.' Abigail held up a pair of pale denim shortalls. At least it's not a dress, Chris thought. 'OK,' he said. Abigail put the top on Chris, and he glanced over to the big wardrobe mirror. He saw himself standing in front of Abigail, who was bigger and taller than he was. He pushed his long hair away from his eyes. He looked like a young girl being dressed by her mommy. He felt again that odd feeling he had whenever he was mistaken for a child or a girl. The clothes were sort of unisex, he thought. Guys could wear those overall shorts things, maybe, he thought, Abigail helped him into the shortalls. She knelt in front of him and he put one hand on her shoulder as she got both his legs into the garment. She pulled them up snugly. Again, Chris felt tightly enveloped. He turned so that Abigail could attach the straps over his shoulders. With a little adjustment at the front, Abigail was done. 'I think Chris is only a little taller and heavier than you,' Abigail said happily. 'These fit very well. What do you think?' Abigail stood back and Chris looked at himself again in the mirror. He could have been either a girl or a boy, he thought. He looked down over the bib at the front of the shortalls. There was no fly, just a vertical seam curving over his rounded tummy. There were two buttons at each side, but that was it. There wasn't even much of a bump in front to show that he was a boy, or a man, he corrected himself. Abigail watched Chris and laughed. 'You don't need an opening in front, honey. If you want to use the bathroom, just undo the straps and hop on the toilet. They're really very convenient. That's why they're ideal for children still in pull-ups or diapers, as well as holding them up so they don't sag when they're wet or messy.' Chris felt himself blushing again. He'd forgotten about his scheme to have an accident. 'Yes, but I'm an adult,' said Chris, trying not to sound too defensive. He had a feeling he was losing control of things, and wanted to get back in charge of his cunning plan. 'Yes,' said Abigail kindly. 'You're a grownup.' She looked at Chris. He looked like a preteen girl. 'OK, pumpkin,' she said, giving him a light tap on his round little denim clad bottom. 'Now what about your hair?' 'It's fine,' said Chris. 'You keep brushing it away from your eyes,' said Abigail. 'Have you ever put it in a ponytail?' 'Sometimes, when I'm working,' said Chris, 'But it's fine.' 'Then let's do that,' said Abigail. Before Chris could speak again, Abigail was pulling his shiny hair into a neat ponytail. She deftly slipped something around it and announced that she was all done. 'It's just a rubber band,' she said. 'It's such lovely hair it would look sweet in a ribbon, but you're a man, aren't you? she asked Chris with a laugh. 'Yes,' said Chris, his light voice catching and sounding even higher in pitch. 'OK,' said Abigail. 'Let's go downstairs. Gwen, whom you met in the shop, is coming over with her daughter Anna. We can have a little tea party. Come on.' Chris felt a tiny spurt of pee between his legs. Shocked, he looked down at his crotch. All he could see was a gently bulging expanse of smooth denim. Good, he thought, and reminded himself to visit the bathroom before he had too much tea. 'Shoes!' Abigail said suddenly. 'Over there,' said Chris, pointing to his scruffy sneakers. Abigail looked at them. 'Hardly,' she said. 'They look disgusting.' She had a point, Chris thought. He'd been traipsing all over London in them. But he doubted this girl Chris had anything that would fit him, or look decent. 'Let's see,' said Abigail, back at the wardrobe. 'Try these,' she said, holding out a pair of white Doc Martens with yellow stitching. 'They were a size too big for Chris. She got them for Christmas. See how they fit. Socks first, though. Abigail found a pair of short white socks and presented them with the shoes to Chris. Dubiously, Chris pulled on the socks, which fitted. Then he tried a shoe, which also fitted his small foot. 'Good,' said Abigail happily. The doorbell rang downstairs. Chris felt a rising panic. None of this was in his plan of an accidental wet bed due to being in a new place. He decided to go to the bathroom as soon as he could. 'That's Gwen and Anna,' Abigail said. 'Perfect timing.' 'I need the bathroom,' Chris said abruptly. Abigail looked at him. 'OK, quickly. I'll help you with the straps,' said Abigail, and followed Chris into the bathroom. 'Abigail...' began Chris. 'Don't be silly,' Abigail replied. 'You'll need help with those straps until you're used to them.' To demonstrate, Abigail reached out and undid the straps at Chris's chest, and pulled down his bib and his panties in one movement. 'Quickly,' she encouraged him, patting his bare bottom as he turned to the toilet. He sat again, as it seemed a bit gross to stand holding his penis in front of Abigail. 'Well done,' said Abigail after Chris's pee had splashed into the toilet bowl. 'Do you wipe?' 'Not usually,' said Chris, feeling flustered. 'Well, a quick wipe then we're done,' said Abigail. 'In a moment, Gwen!' Abigail called through the open door of the bathroom. Chris took some toilet paper of the roll and wiped his genitals. It was the first time he'd ever done that after a pee. As he stood up, Abigail pulled up his panties and shortalls, and attended to the straps. Then, with another pat to his rump, she led him to the door and followed him downstairs. Abigail opened the door to admit Gwen and her daughter. Gwen was dressed, like Abigail, in jeans and a closely fitting knitted top. Anna was, to Chris's discomfort, wearing pink cotton shortalls. She appeared to be about six years old. 'Twins!' Anna squealed as she saw Chris. Gwen laughed. 'Anna, this is Chris, who is staying with Aunty Abi.' 'Hi,' said Anna, grinning at Chris and spotting the logo on his t shirt. 'I like My Little Pony too!' she exclaimed. 'Can I see yours?' 'All in good time,' said Abigail. 'First, I have some tea and biscuits. Sorry for the delay, Gwen. Chris needed the loo, and needs help with his straps.' 'You look lovely, Chris,' said Gwen, looking at him admiringly. 'Such shiny hair. Chris wore hers in a ponytail too. You're so lucky!' 'Tea and home made biscuits,' said Abigail, and led the party into the living room. Chris was glad he'd just been to the bathroom. Today was the first time for ages that he hadn't had worn pull-ups or a diaper during the day. He knew he only used them because he was wearing them, but he still felt naked in a way, and quite nervous. He was sure that Anna was out of diapers, and he found himself feeling oddly competitive with her, and anxious to measure up to her standard and not need daytime diapers or pull-ups. Then he found himself wishing that he could just ask Abigail if he could wear a pull-up, just in case. He had to get back to his plan. To be continued.

Chris the Clever Boarder Chapter 4 Chris got into Abigail's car, and they drove the short distance to a pleasant house in a well tended garden. It was a freestanding house, unlike the terraces common in the area, and as they walked inside, Chris noticed the large, well decorated rooms. It seemed that Abigail was very well established. 'I travel very light,' said Chris in answer to Abigail's comment on his single, small bag. 'It's the best way,' said Abigail. 'I'll show you to your room, and you can decide whether you like the setup, then we can discuss rent.' Chris followed Abigail upstairs. 'It's Chris's old room,' said Abigail. Chris noticed the nameplate on the door. It showed a little girl in a fairy costume surrounded by flowers and stars. It said 'Chris's Room' in pink cursive writing. Abigail laughed as she saw Chris looking at it. 'We won't even have to change the nameplate, will we?' she asked. 'If you don't mind it being a bit girly.' 'It's ok,' said Chris. The nameplate hardly mattered, thought Chris, and who would see it? Abigail opened the door to reveal a sunny room looking over the back garden through a large window with a window seat below it. The decor of the room was pastel and very girlish. Almost juvenile, Chris saw. 'You did a nice job on the room for a boarder,' he said. 'Oh, Chris was a bit more than that,' Abigail replied. 'I hope you don't mind it being a bit feminine.' Chris looked at the bed. It could only be called a 'princess bed', with a half canopy, a pink frilled bedspread, and several dolls arranged neatly against the pillows. Chris didn't feel that he could suggest any changes so soon after his arrival. 'No, it's ok,' he said. He looked at a doll's house in one corner of the room. 'How old was, is Chris?' he asked. 'Just 14,' Abigail replied. 'Old enough to help in the shop, with supervision,' she added, noting Chris's surprised look. 'Where is she now?' Chris asked. 'Oh, she's staying somewhere else,' said Abigail. 'She's very happy.' Fair enough, thought Chris. He looked at a pink overcoat hanging behind the door, 'Didn't she take all her stuff?' Chris asked, lifting a corner of the overcoat. It looked as though it would fit him. Chris was small for his age. At 5 feet 2, he was used to being carded at licensed venues. On the other hand, with his small stature, light build and smooth skin, he often got into venues as a child, depending how he was dressed, so it wasn't all bad. Occasionally he'd even been mistaken for someone's child. Once when he was in a shop with his female boss, that had happened. They'd laughed it off. It was more embarrassing when, with the same woman and when he'd been rugged up in winter clothes with a hat over his long locks, he'd been mistaken for his boss's daughter. They'd laughed that off too. 'Although, I wouldn't mind a lovely looking little girl like you for my daughter,' his boss had said. Chris had had a dream that night that he was actually his boss's daughter. He'd woken up feeling very strange and with a soaked diaper. 'No,' replied Abigail. 'Oh,' replied Chris, returning to the here and now. He wondered where the other Chris had gone, leaving her nice overcoat behind. 'The bathroom's through here,' Abigail said, ushering Chris back into the passageway and opening a door into a large, sunny bathroom. Chris noticed that there was a built in bath and a glass walled shower. The bathroom, like the bedroom, looked quite feminine with pink soap, a fluffy pink floor mat and some more dolls here and there. 'It's a nice big bathroom,' Abigail said. 'Chris loved her bath times.' 'It looks fine,' said Chris. Chris really needed to pee. Everything looked good, so he thought he'd move things along. 'Abigail, I'd like to take the room, if the rent is reasonable,' he said. 'I don't really need to see the rest of the house. I'm sure the living areas are just as nice.' Abigail smiled, and to Chris's surprise, kissed him on the forehead. 'And there's a delightful back garden,' she said. 'I'll charge you what I charged Chris,' she added. 'She paid by helping out in the shop, but it wasn't a large amount in money.' 'That's fine,' said Chris. 'Done,' said Abigail, kissing Chris again. Better than a handshake, thought Chris. 'Thank you,' said Chris. 'Erm, I have to pee,' he added. 'OK,' said Abigail brightly. 'You pop yourself on the loo, and I'll go and make some tea. I have some freshly made biscuits, too. Tell you what, I'll wait for a while, and you can have a nice bath. You probably need one after all the tube travel. They're full of fumes and grime.' 'Good idea,' said Chris. 'I'll do that.' Abigail left the bathroom. Chris did as she suggested, and lifting the front of his apron, he slid down his jeans and underpants and sat on the toilet. It seemed easier than standing to pee with the apron in the way. Chris noticed that his underpants and jeans were now very wet. That happened sometimes. Probably more than he liked to admit, he thought. Maybe wearing pull-ups so often was making him lazy. He wasn't too concerned, as he knew that as soon as he stopped wearing the pull-ups, he'd stop having these accidents. He'd just become a bit insensitive to peeing slightly, he thought. Chris was soon in the bath. It was lovely to feel warm and clean. He began to think about the problem of his wet pants. He wasn't sure where his bag with a change of clothes was. He hadn't brought it into the bathroom. The clothes he had with him were obviously wet, except for the apron. How could he get to his bag? In fact, how could he get his wet jeans and underpants to the washing machine? Eventually, he hit on a plan. Downstairs, Abigail was on the phone to Gwen. 'Perfectly,' said Abigail. 'Thank you, Gwen.' 'Yes, I'm certain he was,' Abigail said. 'He followed the little electronic trail we laid precisely, right up to the sign in the window. I wasn't sure he'd find the link to the email address and the shop, but our little sleuth was good. It's quite fun, isn't it? I loved the look on his face when you said you thought he'd look adorable in a diaper, or nearly that. And he was shaking with excitement when he got the sample pull-ups for you. I'm expecting that soon enough he'll wet his bed, or have an accident in his pants, and 'need my help'. Abigail laughed into the phone. 'By all means,' she told Gwen. 'I'm sure he is. He wet his pants a little in the shop. He was trying to hide the evidence, but when he turned around it was as clear as day. I'm sure he's not wearing anything, and there was nothing in his bag, but it certainly smells of baby powder. I've put his spare clothes in the wash, and I know the ones he's wearing are wet, so I wonder how he'll deal with that.' 'No, he's in the bath now,' said Abigail. Abigail listened for a moment. 'Well, he's Chris's size. A bit smaller, if anything. That's the obvious option. He'd swim in my clothes,' she said. 'Lovely, Gwen. I'll see you then,' Abigail said and hung up. Now, to check on little Chris, she told herself, and headed to the upstairs bathroom. To be continued.

Hi. I personally use the word nappy, and mummy. However, most readers are used to diapers and mommy, so I use those words. To non British and Australian readers, nappy means a hairstyle, so using diapers keeps the focus on the absorbent garments not the hair. I also use 'plastic panties' not 'pilchers' as I don't think most US readers would know what a pilcher is.

Keep going, Submlmaid. This is great.

Note to male readers: I've been told (by a female who knows more than I do) that any male could tell the difference between an orgasm and peeing. Fair enough. I'm not sure what that difference feels like, but for the purposes of this story, Chris has trouble telling which he is doing. If anyone would like to educate me, I'm all ears. PS: I've also been told, again by a woman, that a man can't pee through an erect penis, or can do so only with difficulty. I'd appreciate an informed opinion on this too. There should be a booklet on male physiology for female story writers. Chris the Clever Boarder  Chapter 3 Chris watched Gwen leave the shop. Abi had asked Chris to check the stock levels of the adult diapers and various panties that lined one wall of the shop. Chris felt strangely elated as he looked for gaps on the shelves of bulging plastic packs and racks of waterproof panties. Not long ago, he'd been standing outside this shop, preparing to put his plan into action, and now here he was, doing the job of a shop assistant handling, of all things, adult diapers. During his stock check, Chris had the opportunity to check his crotch. He was definitely wet, and anyone could see it. He'd have to keep his apron on. Chris had been wearing diapers to bed for a couple of years now. He'd started with pull-ups, and would deliberately pee a little into them, but not enough to over-tax them and wet the bedding. He didn't like the chore of washing bedclothes. Then he moved up to all in ones, with tapes. He dared pee a little more into these. A few months ago, he had added plastic pants to his protection, and a plastic mattress protector. Whether that gave Chris psychological security or whatever, he had begun to experience the pleasure of waking up wet, having soaked his diaper in his sleep. He wet while asleep once or twice a week now, often enough to mean that he genuinely needed to wear a diaper and plastic panty at night to avoid wetting the bedding and mattress - especially in hotels. He liked the feeling of needing to wear diapers, although he knew he could return to normal any time he wanted. His plan with Abigail, who was now his cunningly targeted adult baby mommy, was to genuinely wet the bed, 'for the first time in years', perhaps due to 'the stress of travel', or being 'nervous about being the perfect boarder'. Chris fancied himself as a very good actor. Chris's involuntary daytime accidents were initially much less common. Without pull-ups or diapers, Chris had only had three or four 'wet pants accidents' in the first year he'd been living alone and able to indulge his fetish. Two of those accidents had been while travelling - once on a bus and once in a car, and both times he'd had a bag or coat to cover the evidence until he could change. He'd also been able to hide or disguise the other times. He put them all down to not making enough visits to the bathroom. He was sure such accidents happened to most people, but like Chris, no one talked about them. The last time he'd wet his pants without his diaper on was about a year ago. Since then he'd been wearing pull-ups most of the time during the day, and proper diapers for long trips in vehicles. He'd had a few accidents in the diapers, which was understandable since they were on long trips, but even then only because he knew he was wearing them and so didn't feel the need for the bathroom so often. Chris reused his daytime diapers or pull-ups if they were still dry at the end of the day. He always wore taped diapers at night now. However, during the day he worse only pull-ups, which he felt were easier to hide. Chris had bought a carton of six packs of 14 pull-ups, and he was a little surprised to find he wàs on his last pack after only six months. That meant he was wetting his pull-ups about three times a week, he calculated. He supposed on reflection that that was about right. It wasn't a concern because he knew he could stop anytime he wanted just by more bathroom breaks not wearing the pull-ups. As if in response, he felt himself peeing a little more. He suddenly thought of the rear view of his pants, uncovered by the apron. He decided a visit to the bathroom was in order. He was surprised how wet he was. The months of wearing pull-ups must have dulled his sensations, he thought. The plain white cotton undies he preferred were thoroughly wet and so were the crotch and inner thighs of his jeans. He looked carefully and didn't think anything was visible from the back, as long as he kept his legs close together and stayed out of bright light. But the sooner Abigail closed the shop the better. Chris had a plan to get to her house still wearing the apron, provided she drove here, he thought. Otherwise he'd 'spill something' on himself. Chris was proud of his ability to plan for eventualities. He only remembered when he walked back into the shop and saw Abigail that he'd forgotten to actually use the bathroom. 'Well, Chris, that's it for today,' said Abigail a few minutes after 5pm. 'You've been a wonderful help this afternoon, Chris. I'd have you as my shopgirl any time. I'm parked a few doors away, so we can go straight home. Chris smiled back at Abigail, pleased with the compliment. 'I was glad to help,' said Chris. 'Only I'm a shopboy, not girl.' Abigail laughed, and Chris mentally chided himself for saying 'shopboy' instead of 'male shop assistant'. 'Of course,' she said, 'But if you don't mind my saying so, there's not much difference, with your slight build and that beautiful shiny hair. Your lovely smile and light voice just complete the picture. You really would make a very pretty young girl,' Abigail concluded. 'Well, I'm a man,' replied Chris. Being told how pretty he was or how feminine his features were always made him feel peculiar, and the phrase pretty young girl applied to him made him feel even more odd. 'You're blushing!' exclaimed Abigail. 'You really are a cutie, Chris.' 'But a man,' Chris repeated. He felt he had to stand his ground against the onslaught of what really were compliments, and which he liked hearing. Abigail smiled broadly. 'Yes,' she said, dramatically lowering her voice. 'A man.' 'Well,' she continued in her normal voice, 'Get your manly self out of that apron and we'll head home.' Chris looked at Abigail. 'Erm, I thought I'd wear it to your house then take it off and wash it for you. My clothes need a wash anyway - I was going to ask you if I could wash them - and if this hasn't been washed since the other Chris wore it...' Abigail thought for a moment. 'You're quite right, Chris, and thank you,' said Abigail. 'That's very considerate of you. I just thought you might want to take the apron off as soon as you could.' 'No,' said Chris, 'It's ok.' 'You are a funny one,' said Alison. She smiled as she opened the front door for Chris and saw the small dark patch of denim between his legs. To be continued

Ah, you've got me on the unfinished mini series, Dave. In moments of guilt, I try to tell myself that I'm leaving it to readers to finish my stories using their own imaginations, but I know that's a cop out. All I can do is apologise, and tell you that maybe, one day, I'll go back and finish them. I usually get stopped by a kind of narrative block. These stories are hard to end other than by saying 'and so they lived for ever after.' Back to Babypant's interesting forensic analysis. The stories are fantasies, but the agreed fiction, the suspension of disbelief, is that they are real. It's the same with movies. The presence of the film crew at intimate moments between the characters is ignored by mutual consent of the audience and the filmmaker. Nevertheless, the more real the stories are the better they are. The tax return issue is a good one. In this case, Babypants, Chris has cashed out. His assets are now in a personal cash hoard, so he is no longer bothered by tax. Abigail's situation is easier to set up. She could be independently wealthy and running her shop as a hobby, while her real pursuit is attracting and grooming ABs for her own pleasure. More of that later, as you say. I will try to finish this one! Sal

That's an interesting comment, Babypants - primarily because I don't understand it! If you're referring to the second chapter, how did I sweep any structural faults under the carpet, and what were those structural faults? Chris is the protagonist. There is an omniscient narrator who observes and describes the action from Chris's point of view. Abigail is a character with whom Chris interacts. Abigail's character will be developed as required. While she won't necessarily have her own narrative voice, enough details of her actions and words will be given to understand what motivates her. Already it seems that Abi is, unknown to Gwen, for example, involved in adult baby activities. That gives an edge to Abi's comments about Gwen and Chris wearing adult continence garments. Gwen is innocent and oblivious, and Chris is attracted rather than made cautious by Abi's clear indication that she at least approves of adults wearing diapers. In short, what do you mean by your comment?

Chris the Clever Boarder Chapter 2 The expectant mother laughed. 'Hello!' she said. 'I thought was seeing things. Abi told me Chris had left, and here she is again, same height, same build, same hair even, but a boy this time. You're not her twin brother are you? No, no mommy would call both her twins Chris.' Chris stood still, listening to the woman chatter away. 'No, I'm just helping out this afternoon,' he said. 'Well,' said the woman, "I have to say you are practically a clone of dear little Chris, except that she's a bit more feminine looking than you. I don't mean you're feminine looking,' the woman hastily corrected herself, 'I meant that, you know...' 'It's OK,' said Chris. 'I've been told I look like a girl before. I'm used to it. I am a boy, though. Can I help you with anything?' 'Actually,' said the woman. 'It's a bit personal...' 'Abi to the rescue!' came Abi's voice from the store's office, followed by Abi herself. 'I overheard that,' she said. 'Hi Gwen. I'm guessing you need better protection.' 'Yes,' said Gwen. 'I would have told Chris here, but...' 'I understand,' said Abi, 'But I'm not sure Chris would. He may be my new boarder, and could help out here occasionally, so if you're not embarrassed we can talk about it here.' 'Sure,' said Gwen. 'It sounds embarrassing, Chris, but it's a common thing for pregnant ladies.' Abi turned to Chris. 'Pregnant ladies pee their pants sometimes,' she said. 'That's right,' continued Gwen. 'The baby pushes on the bladder and there's not a lot of room in there. So sometimes if I cough or laugh, or do something sudden, I wet my panties like a two year old. I've been wearing some pads Abi gave me, but I need something more.' Chris was fascinated. He tried to look just mildly interested, but he was intensely interested. Here was a grown woman, standing right in front of him, telling him that she wet her pants! Chris was amazed, and excited. 'And the next step for Gwen is adult pull-ups,' said Abi. 'Chris, would you be a dear and get a Molicare Super medium size from the box of samples over there? It's in a bag, clearly marked.' Chris's hands were shaking as he found the sample and brought it to Abi. 'Sorry,' he apologised, looking at Abi then at Gwen. 'First customer,' he added lamely. Abi looked at his shaking hands with interest, then directly at him. How he wished the pullup was for him, Chris thought. It was the same brand he usually wore, too. They were the best pull-ups he'd found. 'Adults in diapers, or nearly diapers,' laughed Gwen. 'It must be a whole new world for you, Chris.' 'Yes,' he said, determined not to attract another odd look from Abi. He was relieved to see Abi focused on the pullup in her hands. 'Try this one on over your panties, Gwen,' said Abi. 'If it fits well, keep the sample and I'll give you a pack of them.' 'Thanks, Abi,' said Gwen. She smiled at Chris and went to one of the changing booths. She emerged a few minutes later, tugging at her stretchy, pull up slacks. 'I don't think you can see I'm wearing them, can you?' she asked Abi, pulling her pants up slightly and turning around. 'No,' replied 'Abi. 'They're very discreet. What do you think, Chris?' Chris wasn't sure if he was about to come, or whether he was about to wet himself. Something was happening between his legs. 'Er, no,' said Chris, looking directly at Gwen's plump pubic mound angled under her swollen abdomen as the woman held up her pants then released them. There was certainly a bulge there, but Chris was not that familiar with the physiology of pregnancy. 'No, I don't think so,' he said as steadily as he could. 'How about behind?' said Gwen, turning away from Abi and Chris and bending over. Chris stared at the outline of Gwen's full panty under the thin, taut cloth covering her backside. He could see the half moon of the seam at the back of her panties and the slight, tell-tale padding of the pullup over her butt cheeks. Between Gwen's thighs he could see that the padding of the pullup was bunched together. He either came or released a spurt of pee into his pants. It was hard to tell. He cleared his throat. 'Well, a tiny bit, but no one will see you like that, I hope,' said Abi. 'Except Bill,' said Gwen. 'He says even the pads make me look cute. When I do leak, he says I need a diaper change and calls me his baby.' Abi laughed. 'I told you there were side benefits,' she said. 'And now you're in pull-ups.' Gwen laughed too. 'I can't wait,' said Gwen. 'As it is, he likes me just in my panties and pad around the house. He even wants to help me change them. Seeing my big bum in pull-ups will really get him going.' 'No bad thing,' replied Abi. Gwen glanced at Chris, who was looking strangely distressed. 'Too much female information?' she asked him. 'No, it's ok.' he managed to say. 'That's because you don't wear pull-ups like a big toddler,' said Gwen. 'Though he'd look sweet if he did,' said Abi, smiling at Chris. 'That will be one pack of Moli Super, Gwen,' she added. 'And some diaper rash cream,' said Gwen. 'Sorry, Chris,' she added. 'You're on a bit of a learning curve here, aren't you?' 'OK,' said Abi. 'Did you find the Bepanthem I gave you last time less greasy?' 'Actually, I don't know,' said Gwen quietly. 'Bill puts it on me. But it's very soothing. I need it too,' she said, dropping her voice to a stage whisper. 'He shaved me last week. Now I really do feel like a baby, or a pre-pubescent at least. Not that there's really any chance of that,' she added, putting her hands to her generous breasts. Chris's mind was racing. 'Are you ok, Chris?' asked Abi. Gwen laughed. 'As I said, Abi, too much information,' she said. Gwen paid Abi and took her goods. 'I'll see you next week, Abi,' she said, 'Unless my time comes, or unless Bill enrols me in daycare! Bye, Chris. Lovely to meet you, and I think you look cute even without a diaper on.' Chris laughed. 'Goodbye, Gwen,' he said, trying not to stare at her generous breasts. His pants were definitely wet between his thighs. He could feel it. He was glad of the apron now. He wondered how he could hide his wet crotch from his potential new landlady. To be continued.

Chris the Clever Boarder Chapter 1 Chris downed his lager in the quaint corner pub and went outside. He stood on the grimy footpath and watched the motley collection of citizens moving around him. Chris was alone in London. That gave him a great feeling of achievement and excitement. At 23, his unexpected business success back home and his lack of real ties had allowed him, Chris, the slightly built, undersized orphaned boy who was never expected to amount to much, to be standing in this vast metropolis, reliant on his own considerable cash resources but anonymous, and responsible to no one. Anonymity, thought Chris. That was the key. Chris had felt somewhat anonymous for most of his short life. He'd never known his father, and had been brought up by his working but loving mother and his two much older sisters. Then, just after his 11th birthday, a tragic fire had deprived him of his family. He had been at a sleepover with a friend and since that awful day had been passed from one foster carer to another. He'd dealt with many issues arising from the trauma, including bedwetting, extreme loneliness and general emotional fragility. That he'd succeeded in life despite all that was his proudest achievement, but inwardly he still felt that his childhood until his preteens was the best period of his life, and despite the impossibility, he often longed Ro return to the security and human warmth of that time. He consulted his hand drawn map, found the local tube station and was soon in a train, beginning his much planned private journey. The journey was private because Chris intended to contact some people who could help him indulge his secret fetish - wearing a diaper. More specifically, being told by a dominant woman that he had to wear a diaper. Even being diapered by her, if it worked out that way. He had concocted a perfect plan. He'd found on the internet a woman - he was pretty sure it was woman - who seemed very interested in the idea of treating people like toddlers or babies. The woman didn't actually advertise who she was, but with some clever detective work and cross referencing, Chris had found an email address, and that led to a business address in Ruislip in London: 'North West Maternity Specialists'. Abigail French was the proprietor, according to the online British company records. He hoped that was 'AF' who posted in the adult baby forum he'd read online. AF was 44 years old, according to her online profile. Just right for his purposes, thought Chris. On another AB forum, 'Abi' of Ruislip had said that she would love to go braless but had DD cup boobs. Though not generally so interested in womens' breasts, Chris had been fantasising about those particular big, soft breasts for the several weeks since he'd 'found' AF. What's more, Abi said she had a 'highly developed maternal instinct'. Even better, if this Abigail French really is 'AF', Chris had thought. Chris had decided that AF was ideal for his needs, and that he was ideal for hers. All he had to do was meet this motherly goddess. So Chris found himself standing, on a cold, gloomy London afternoon, outside the pink-coloured premises of North West Maternity Specialists. It had been raining, and Chris stood looking through the still wet glass at the full-figured mannequins in the shop's window display. He stared at the stretchy granny panties and the nursing bras, wondering which of his carefully worked out scenarios he'd try on the unsuspecting Abigail French in order to place himself - as far as she believed, anyway - in her motherly care. He had carefully put his ID and travel documents in long term safekeeping back at his hotel. He didn't even have his phone, just a bill fold of cash and a small bag with a change of clothes. He wasn't wearing the pullup he often wore, and had no 'supplies' in his bag. Then he saw a neatly printed card in the corner of the window. His heart leapt and his plans changed instantly. 'Boarder wanted - comfortable local situation with friendly landlady for clean, quiet young man or woman. Full board, reasonable rates. Apply A French within or phone.' Chris memorised the mobile number - he was good at that sort of thing - and opened the door of the shop. As he stepped inside, he saw a tall, well-built woman standing behind the counter, folding garments and putting them into a cardboard box. She had neatly styled blonde hair, pink framed glasses and was wearing a pastel crocheted top over a blouse and what Chris assumed were the bra-requiring DD breasts. 'Paydirt!' thought Chris. 'Excuse me, young man,' said the woman crossly. 'Would you mind wiping your wet feet? There's a mat behind you.' 'Sorry,' said Chris, retreating a step and wiping his shoes on the mat. 'I didn't mean..' 'Never mind,' said the woman. 'I'm without a shopgirl at present and there's enough to do here without cleaning the floor every time someone walks in. Now how can I help you? I doubt you're here to buy maternity clothes.' 'Oh, well,' said Chris, now flustered and trying to vary the way he'd scripted their meeting, 'I saw the notice in the window, and I thought, well..' 'You thought you might be the clean, quiet young man we are looking for,' said the woman. 'We?' thought Chris. He imagined a husband. That didn't sound too good. Or a middle aged lesbian lover. There were other possibilities, perhaps. Two spinsters into AB... 'You're certainly quiet,' said the woman. 'Or don't you answer when an adult asks you a question?' 'I'm 23,' Chris said defensively. 'I'm just short.' This wasn't going so well, he decided. 'I see,' said the woman. 'You saw my notice while you looking in the window of a maternity shop. The ladies in their underclothing in the window aren't real, you know.' Chris felt himself becoming upset. He looked back at the woman and wasn't sure what to say. He wanted to start this again, but he knew that was out of the question. He wasn't even sure why he was feeling so emotional. Then he realised that this woman was destroying his dream plan. It wasn't fair. He glared at her and turned to leave. Maybe the while thing was a bad idea in the first place he thought. 'Come here,' the woman commanded, and Chris stopped in his tracks. 'Instead of getting upset, come here, sit down, and explain yourself,' said the woman, moving around the counter and motioning to a settee at one side of the shop. Chris saw that the woman was wearing tight blue jeans that emphasised her generous hips. The broad vee of her crotch bulged under the tight, flyless denim. The seam of the jeans pulled upwards and divided her whole lower tummy with a wide, shallow cameltoe. Chris could sense his heart rate increasing. 'Sit here,' ordered the woman. Chris, for all his early business success and cunning planning for this meeting, felt intimidated. Very occasionally, when highly stressed, he leaked a little urine. Uppermost in his mind at the moment was avoiding doing just that. He sat where he was told, and placed his small, loose bag over his crotch. 'Good boy,' said the woman. She stood in front of him. At his eye level were the woman's hips and crotch. He had rapid thoughts of his own meagre secondary sex characteristics, his thin beard, flat chest and modest genitals compared with this woman's obvious femininity. He had to look up to see her face. After a few seconds, the woman smiled. 'You look like a frightened little rabbit,' the woman said, sitting next to Chris. 'I'll take that,' she added, putting one hand on the bag Chris was clutching. 'Unless you have something to hide,' she added with a quick laugh. Chris felt himself blushing. Both his eyes and the woman's went momentarily to his groin. Which, Chris was pleased to see was dry, if without any sort of manly bulge. 'Well?' asked the woman. 'There's no need to be so nervous. If you were a little younger, I'd pick you up and give you a cuddle, but since you're 23,' the woman said with emphasis, 'I'll just assume you're shy. Now, let's have a chat.' Chris tried to organise his thoughts. 'Erm, well, I was going past your shop, and I saw the notice, and, well, I need a place to stay, and...' said Chris. 'So, do you work locally?' asked the woman. 'No,' said Chris, 'I'm on vacation.' 'In Ruislip?' asked the woman with surprise. 'Well, not exactly,' said Chris. 'Where were you going when you walked past my shop?' asked the woman. 'Er, the tube station,' said Chris. 'I saw you through the window, heading in the other direction,' said the woman. 'I'm sort of lost,' said Chris weakly. 'Perhaps you are,' said the woman with a smile. 'Well, my name's Abigail French. Would you like to have a look at the room I have for rent?' 'Yes please,' said Chris with relief. 'I'm Chris Johnson.' 'OK, Chris,' said the woman. 'Perhaps you can help me here until closing time then we'll go to my house. It's only around the corner.' 'OK,' replied Chris. 'That would be good.' Abigail smiled and opened a cupboard. She took out a folded garment and handed it to Chris. 'It's an apron, to identify you as a helper in the shop,' said Abigail as Chris looked at the folded pink cotton. 'It's not too girly, and its only for an hour or two. If anyone asks you anything, be polite to them, and refer them to me.' Abigail unfolded the apron and held it up. Chris noticed that at least it was fairly plain. Hr looked at a namebadge attached to the chest area. 'Oh,' Abigail laughed. 'That's Chris's badge. She was my last shopgirl. That's handy. Customers will know what to call you.' Abigail helped Chris into the apron. 'You and Chris are about the same size,' she said. 'Perfect.' Chris was glad of the apron. He had brushed his hand past his groin and felt that he was a little wet. He wouldn't actually admit it to himself, but for some time now he'd been wearing pull-ups when he went out, not entirely for the buzz of doing so. He'd had several incidents when the pullups were wet when he took them off. He hadn't even felt himself peeing. So wearing them was just a sensible precaution, he told himself. Nothing to do with his secret fetish. The door opened, and a pregnant woman in her thirties entered. 'Your first customer,' said Abigail. 'In at the deep end. Off you go. I'll be in the office,' she added and disappeared behind the back wall of the showroom. 'Hello,' said Chris. 'Can I help?' To be continued.

This isn't an entire story. Its an episode for a story that hasn't been written. If I get around to writing that story, I'll probably cut and paste this. Sue was relieved finally to get to the clinic. Rob had been difficult all morning. Working from home, Sue was one of the few women who hadn't put her husband into boycare during the day. She liked having him around, and he certainly preferred being at home in surroundings he knew and was comfortable in, at this stage anyway. Like most men, Rob had had problems adjusting. He had accepted leaving his job as well as the loss of other adult privileges like driving, bank accounts and so on, but diapers presented a challenge, as they did for a lot of boys. He'd begun wetting the bed, as most men did, and like most men, objected to the nighttime diapers he now wore without complaint. Sue had brought him to the clinic because he'd started having daytime accidents, and she was again having trouble getting him to accept being diapered. Rob had been acting out, making a fuss of all sorts of things. He had been answering back to Sue, and even complained about her business attire. As most female professionals had since the Change, Sue wore a conservative suit and tie when she was working. She favoured tight grey pinstripe pants, a white blouse and a nicely cut jacket with a red tie. The ensemble looked good with her cropped dark hair. Just that morning, Rob had told her that 'women don't wear suits'. They certainly did, Sue had assured him, just as boys wore shorts, sandal and t shirts, or track suits or rompers. After the previous day's misbehaviour, Sue was surprised that Rob risked upsetting her again. As it was, it only took the threat of further discipline to calm him down. So here they were, at the clinic, along with a few other women with their boys. Rob sat quietly and unhappily next to Sue in the waiting room. He was diapered, which he dint like, but he didn't dare repeat his performance of yesterday. After several daytime accidents in the preceding week, Sue had diapered Rob for a trip to the mall. That was the start of the trouble. 'Sue Wilson?' called a nurse from a door which opened on the far side of the waiting room. 'Yes, hi,' said Sue. 'Come on, honey,' she said, taking Rob by the hand and leading him through the for held open by the nurse. 'Hi Sue,' said the doctor, referring to a tablet she held. 'This is your third visit, isn't it?' 'Yes,' said Sue. 'It's nice to see you again, Ann.' Ann smiled at Rob, who stood grumpily in his puffy shorts and t shirt. 'Now, Rob's been doing well, but I understand that you've had issues with diapers. It's very common, by the way,' said Ann. 'That;'s putting it mildly,' said Sue. 'He's normally very obedient.' 'Well, he is a boy,' laughed Ann. She turned to Rob. "Hello, Rob,' she said. 'Do you remember me? I'm Dr Ann.' Rob looked at the white-coated doctor. She was tall, well built and with the short hair that women wore now. Adult women were increasingly becoming generic to Rob, except Sue, whom he could easily tell from a crowd. 'Yes,' he replied. 'Good boy,' said Ann. 'Now I want to have a talk with you, just you, without Sue. But she'll be here, just outside the door, and she'll come in straight after our talk. OK?' 'OK,' agreed Rob. There was almost never a reason not to agree with an adult woman, and doing so usually led to trouble. 'Good boy,' repeated Ann. 'This way, Rob,' she added and ushered him into the inner room of her surgery. 'Up here,' please she said, bringing Rob to a white covered examination table, with some padded steps next to it. Ann helped Rob onto the examination couch and made him comfortable. 'Now then, Rob, tell me what's been happening. Do you need a diaper change now by the way?' she asked. 'No,' said Rob shortly. 'And I don't need daytime diapers.' Ann smiled. 'Now that's not quite right, is it Rob?' she said seriously, referring to her tablet again. 'You had your first daytime accident just over a month ago, at Sue's friend's house. You wet your pants again the next day in the garden, and two days later at Macca's. That was three weeks ago. Since then, Sue has diapered you every day, and you've wet a total of eleven times. So I'd say you need diapers. You certainly do medically. You left work six months ago, so your progress is quite normal.' 'Which brings me to yesterday,' said Ann. 'She hit me!' said Rob heatedly. 'Tell me about that,' said Ann. 'She, she pulled my pants down and she hit me again and again,' said Rob, beginning to sob at the memory. 'She can't hit me! I'm, her, I'm her husband!' 'Had you been naughty, Rob?' asked Ann, looking again at the record of Ann's phone call on her tablet. Rob looked at Ann without speaking. Ann looked at him steadily. 'Rob, you took off your diaper when Sue left you in the car at the mall, and threw it under the car. You then went with Ann to have lunch in the mall, and you wet your pants. Sue had no spare pants for you, only a spare diaper, so she changed you in the restroom and you went home in tour diaper and top, crying all the way, according to Sue. Once she got you home, she spanked you, both for disobeying her and for being so irresponsible the left alone for five minutes. I know it was your first spanking, but most women discipline their boys, so I don't think it was unexpected,' she said. 'You were not only disobedient to an adult woman, but you tried to deceive your wife. I think you thoroughly deserved a spanking. Don't you?' 'Yes,' said Rob miserably, trying to stifle his sobs. Ann was like all other women, he thought. They were always right and you had to do what they said. He felt very guilty. 'Good boy,' said Ann. 'Now I'll get Sue. And I think you should apologise to her for what happened yesterday.' The nurse brought Sue in. 'Hi Sue,' said Ann. 'We've had a chat, and Rob has something to say.' Sue looked expectantly at Rob. Like many things in Rob's life, the visit to the clinic had been discussed beforehand, without his inclusion. 'I'm sorry for taking my diaper off yesterday,' he said quietly. 'I was naughty.' 'And you need to wear a diaper during the day now, don't you Rob?' said Ann. 'Tell Sue and me what you need to wear during the day and why, please.' Rob looked at the two adult women. 'I need to wear a diaper during the day because, because I wet my pants,' said Rob, beginning to cry again. 'You can't help wetting your pants, can you Rob?' prompted Ann. 'Tell us please.' 'I can't help wetting my pants,' said Rob, collapsing into full blown tears. 'It's alright, honey, we're here to look after you,' said Ann gently. Ann looked at Rob's puffy crotch as he lay on the examination table. "I think you might be wet now, Rob,' she said. 'Have you wet your diaper?' 'I don't know,' said Rob truthfully. Ann felt the soggy front of Rob's diaper. 'I think you have sweetie,' she said. 'So let's get that off, and we can go on with this visit.' Ann nodded to the nurse, who stripped Rob of his shorts and diaper. Rob lay still, looking at Sue for support. Sue smiled back and reaching out, stroked Rob's shoulder length blonde hair. 'It's OK, honey,' she said. "I'm here.' The nurse disposed of the diaper, put Rob's shorts in a plastic bag and returned to the table with a stainless still dish containing a razor and some lotions. The next few minutes were taken up by the nurse removing what little pubic hair Rob had, and applying a lotion to his groin. rob lay quietly throughout the procedure, still sniffling. 'Good,' said Ann. 'Now that your in diapers full time, that's much more hygienic. Boys have no need for hair down there anyway.' she added. 'Now,' she continued, 'I know you've just wet, but I'd like to try for a sample of your pee, Rob.' The nurse took from a cupboard a large, pink plastic potty and set it on the floor. She helped Rob sit comfortably on it and stepped back. 'Just try to pee, honey,' said Sue. Rob sat for a few moments, then stiffened slightly. The women heard his pee splashing into the potty. Then he looked surprised, grunted, and had a large bowel movement. 'I'm sorry,' he said immediately, looking up at Ann and Sue. Ann laughed. 'It's quite alright, sweetie. You couldn't help it, could you?' 'No,' replied Rob. It was the first time he could remember that he'd had an involuntary bowel movement, and he wasn't sure what to make of it. 'Can you take a faecal sample as well, please nurse?' Ann asked the nurse as she helped Rob up and took away the potty. 'That's about it, Sue,' said Ann as the nurse got Rob back on the table, wiped his bottom and diapered him. To be continued perhaps.

Thanks for the comments. Well spotted, Babypants. My mistake - I swapped Jane for Ruth. Jane doctor, Ruth wife and mommy.

Thanks for the tip, Lionheart. It's still readable at 14pt, so I'll leave it as it is. There's more value in spending time writing new text than reformatting readable stuff, so I'll leave it unless anyone has a real problem with it.

Hi again. I've just finished a work contract, and found an old story that I'll complete. Here are the first 6 chapters in one. Apologies for the blue background in the first bit. If anyone knows how to get rid of it, please let me know. This story is slightly edited but it's recycled, so as a Christmas present it's a bit like regifting a bottle of wine. Merry Christmas everyone, anyway. Bill and Ruth Chapter 1 Like a lot of men, Bill thought he was different. He was wrong.'Bill!' 'What?' said Bill, blinking up at his wife Ruth, who was sitting up in bed, wide awake. 'What time is it?''It's time to get up, but look at this!' Ruth said, shifting herself to one side of the bed.The big wet circle on the bottom sheet spread out from Bill's hips. Bill felt a flush of fear suffuse his body. This couldn't be happening to him. He stared at the disaster.'Don't just lie there, Bill, give me a hand, please,' said Ruth, getting out of bed and dragging the upper bedclothes off the mattress. Bill stood mutely in his sodden pyjamas. He didn't know what to say.'Sorry, Ruth,' he said, searching her face for a sign of forgiveness.'Sorry won't help, Bill. I was hoping this wouldn't happen. Here, put this in the washing machine, please. I'll ring Jane and we'll try to get you sorted out,' Ruth said.'I don't need sorting out,' Bill protested. 'It was just a one-off. I'm sure of it.'Ruth looked steadily at her husband. 'We've got to get on top of this, Bill,' she said. 'And I don't want any more "Not me, I'm different", OK? You're just a man, Bill, like any other man. You read the papers, Bill.''I try not to,' replied Bill as he gathered up the wet sheet.Ruth rolled her eyes. 'You can toss your pj's in too,' she said. 'Top and bottom. The back of your top is all wet.'Bill glanced back at Ruth as he left the room. It's OK for her, he thought. The New Woman. Three months of bliss - no more work, playing golf, lounging around the house… OK, a few chores, but they were easy enough. Like doing the washing. Bill had that down pat. Clothes in, powder in, spin the dials, set and forget. Even hanging things out was a cinch. Plenty of pegs to hand, start at the far end. It just needed planning.The rise of women in management had reached a kind of tipping point a few years ago, then a small tidal wave of young women seemed to fill any available positions. It was the same with politics. Men seemed to have had a mass change of heart, or got smart, more like it, Bill used to tell himself. Why not leave it to the women? They think they know everything anyway. Life was to short to spend organising halfwits for little return. The fun had gone out of it.Even socially, things had changed. One of Bill's mates at work had been sacked for telling a blonde joke. You had to be kidding. The poor guy's boss overheard him, and she went ballistic, quoting the new Workplace Behaviour Rules at him before telling him he had done his dash. Even the other guy, the one who laughed, only hung on by the skin of his teeth. He was put on three month's probation, and was demoted from area manager to merchandiser. He did the work trainees used to do. He lasted about a week, then told the bitch to stick it. That was the end of him. Bill didn't agree with the new rules, or the elevation of women's sport and all the rest of it. He had given notice, at the urging of Ruth, actually, but he was glad to be home for a while. He thought he'd wait it out until enough guys got pissed off with the way things were going and redressed the balance of things.The trouble is, they never did. Bill had been home now for almost four months. It had been mostly good. He had a few gripes. The new management at the golf club had restricted men to two days a week, and the championship games were now all-female. Or all New Women, to be correct. That was a bummer, but complaining was a banning offence, and caddying for one of the big swinging New Women at least got him onto the course on Saturdays. The bar was women only, at least for alcohol now, but one good effect of the sugary Elixir he was on was that he lost his taste for beer and scotch.The Elixir was supposed to help men adjust to their new roles. As an 'Authorised Provider' Jane dispensed the stuff. Bill would have quietly spat out his doses, but he had to be swabbed once a month, a bit like a racehorse, he thought, and if your saliva showed you weren't taking your dose, you were sent for 'Adjustment'. One of Bill's old golfing four had been 'readjusted', and now he was practically scared of his own shadow. He'd given up golf, and his wife now used his clubs. When Bill asked her how he was getting on, the guy's wife had laughed, and said 'As well as could be expected.' Bill didn't want to ask any more. To tell the truth, he was feeling a bit intimidated by some of these bossy New Women himself. Roll on the revolution, he told himself.'Jane can see us at 10:30,' Ruth called from the kitchen. 'You've got time to do the dishes and clean things up around here. I'll come back and pick you up.'Not driving was another jolt to the system. At least the Elixir stopped him from getting to upset about it, Bill thought. What was the point? It was rare to see a man driving these days, unless he was delivering something somewhere. The way these women drove made Bill feel a lot better as a passenger anyway. At least that was his excuse to himself for feeling so frightened of the other cars hurtling around the roads these days. Bill finished in the laundry and went, naked as he often was now walking around the house, into the bathroom to have a shower. I pissed the bed, he thought angrily. He'd heard of it happening to other guys, but hoped it was a sort of urban myth. Like the stories of men having to give up their credit cards and bank accounts to their wives. You heard stories. 'What the hell?' said Bill as he stood in front of the toilet. There was a sticker on the cistern showing the silhouette of a guy pissing, in a red circle with a bar through it. Next to it was a green square with a man sitting on the toilet. There was a big green tick over the image. Underneath the pictures, it said Male Hygiene Is Your Business.Bill had his piss, then went to look for Ruth. She was packing her briefcase and was getting ready to leave.'What's that bullshit on the toilet?' he asked. 'It's not bullshit, Bill, as you so crudely out it. It came in the mail.' Ruth said. 'They're taking the urinals out of hotels and clubs, too, if you hadn't noticed. Standing to pee is filthy, at home as well as anywhere else. I hope you sat down just then.'Bill felt as if he should say something in his defence, but what was the use? 'No,' he said. 'I just read it.''For heaven's sake, Bill,' Ruth said. 'Hygiene. And after you've wet the bed, too. I want you sitting from now on. For everything. Is that understood?'That was the problem. Ruth, like most women now, seemed to think she was in charge. Her command and expectation of obedience in this case was only a little thing, but it was symptomatic of a lot more.'Bill?' she prompted him. 'Hullo?''Yeah, OK,' said Bill. 'But I'm…''But nothing, Bill, you're sitting from now on. Look at me and tell me that you will sit to use the toilet, please?'Bill took a deep breath. He knew this routine.'I will sit to use the toiket from now on, Ruth,' he said. 'That's better,' said Ruth. 'I'll be back at 10. Dishes. Bye, honey.'Ruth blew him a kiss. Bill felt a bit better, and smiled back at her. 'Bye,' he said. Sitting to piss wasn't such a big deal, he thought. 10 o'clock came around soon enough. Bill had finished the dishes, tidied the kitchen, made the bed and put some clothes on by the time Ruth returned to take him to the doctor. 'I don't want to go,' said Bill, standing his ground as Ruth tried to lead him to the front door.'Bill, do you want me to get cross?' asked Ruth, holding the front door open and grasping Bill's reluctant arm with the other. 'No,' said Bill grumpily. 'Well, come on then. It's for your own good,' Ruth said as they headed to her car. For my own good, thought Bill. How many times had he heard that since things had changed. Every time men lost something to these powerful women, it was 'for our own good'.'Have you got clean undies on?' asked Ruth as she held the passenger door open for Bill. 'Of course,' said Bill. 'Is there going to be a physical?''There may be,' said Ruth. 'Last time I looked at your underwear, there was a damp patch, that's all.''That's normal,' said Bill. 'Just drips, you know?'Ruth was silent for a moment. 'Well, from now on, I want you wiping as well as sitting to pee, OK? If that doesn't help, I might put you in pants with a liner,' said Ruth.'Those things!' said Bill. He had seen the ads. 'I don't need them!' he said hotly. 'Valerie has put John in them. He was 'dripping' too. So there's no reason you shouldn't have them if you have the same problem,' replied Ruth matter-of-factly. 'John's wetting at night too, by the way.'Bill thought of his friend John, who had cut a recent phone conversation with Bill short 'because Val doesn't like me spending too long on the phone'. John was turning into a wuss, Bill had decided. 'So what?' said Bill. 'And anyway, you probably drip a bit into your panties too, sometimes,' he added, feeling proud that he was still able to stand up to his wife. Ruth hit the brakes hard, and pulled over to the side of the road. She turned to Bill and glared at him. Bill felt his bravado evaporate, and felt a tightening in his stomach.'Bill, you do not ever say that sort of thing about women,' Ruth said angrily. 'Any woman, and especially to me. You are in no position to talk about women's personal matters like that. You are right out of order. I want an apology, and some respect.''I'm sorry, Ruth,' he said, feeling quite frightened. 'I really am. I apologise.''That's better. Just remember, if you'd said something like that to anyone in public, you'd probably be heading for Adjustment. Think about that, and try to be a little bit grown up.' said Ruth, releasing the brake and turning back onto the bitumen. Bill sat quietly. He wondered if there was something in the Elixir that made him so timid when Ruth got angry. Ruth was right, too. There had been one or two times lately when he had peed slightly in his pants, when he was very tired, or when he was surprised, or a long way from a bathroom. He thought Ruth hadn't noticed. After all, he did most of the laundry. Was she checking the dirty laundry, he wondered. He certainly couldn't ask her that. He decided that he would have to be careful it didn't happen again. It had been a couple of months at least since Ruth had taken Bill to Jane's clinic. Ruth spoke to the receptionist, and they walked into the waiting room. There were two other couples there, the men sitting quietly while the women talked. The two women smiled and nodded at Ruth, and Bill averted his eyes and sat next to her. Bill glanced at the other men. One of them looked quite emotional, or unhappy at least, and was holding his wife's hand. A door opened and a pretty nurse strode in. 'Sue Thomas and Andy,' she said, looking at one of the couples. The wife of the hand-holding man stood up, but the man stayed put. He began to cry. 'Andy, don't be silly,' she told him. 'We've talked about this, remember? Lots of men wear them now. It's quite normal.'Andy looked quickly around the room as he followed his wife through the door. Bill thought he looked utterly ashamed.The door shut behind the couple, and Bill looked up and around the room. On the wall, there was the usual poster extolling the virtues of the Elixir. 'Elixir makes your man a happy man' it said, under a beaming picture of a slightly chubby-faced man looking up at his rather handsome-looking wife. Next to it there was a new poster that Bill hadn't seen before. It showed a similarly striking wife looking down with satisfaction at a man half curled up on a bed. The man was wearing a pyjama top and what looked like large, thick white underpants. Under the image it said 'Your man will sleep better and so will you. Rest easy with him in fully washable Confi-Pants. Solutions for night and daywear.'Bill's eyes widened as he realised what the Confi-Pants were. He looked urgently at Ruth. To his horror, she seemed to be looking at the poster too. She put her hand on Bill's thigh and smiled at him. He was about to say something when another door opened and the tall figure of Jane appeared. 'Hi Ruth,' said Jane. 'Good to see you. Do come in, please.''Hi Bill,' Jane added as Ruth led the way through the door. Bill sat silently while Ruth and Jane talked. 'How's he been?' Jane asked.Bill was used to women talking about himi front of him. Ruth gave Jane a rundown on recent events. Bill cringed as Ruth detailed his bedwetting, and even described the damp patches on his underwear. At last, the doctor turned to Bill. He felt as if he had only just become visible.'Well, Bill,' she said. 'We have been having a few problems, haven't we?'Bill nodded. He felt both embarrassed and annoyed, but he knew now was not the time to vent his feelings, if there ever was a suitable time.'You're not alone, Bill,' Jane continued. 'Lots of men experience a lessening of bladder control. It's quite normal and not a big issue. There are some excellent products to help you, and you know you have Ruth's support, and of course my support, too. The main thing, though, is that you accept what's happening. There's no shame in it at all. In fact, lots of my patients are men just like you, and they are very grateful for the help available. I think you will be too, Bill.'Ruth looked at Bill with an expression of compassion. Bill felt the tears welling up in his eyes.'Oh, Bill,' said Jane. 'I'm sure it's not easy for you to accept help with this, but you do need help honey. Can you stand up, please?'Bill stood uncertainly. Jane got up from her chair. She put on a pair of latex gloves, which made Bill wonder what she was going to do next. Jane reached down and put her hand to Bill's crotch.'Look, Bill,' she said. Bill looked down at his tan chinos. There was a wet patch between his legs, extending in a little half moon halfway up his fly and for a few inches down each inner thigh the material was dark and wet. Bill's heart missed a beat. When did that happpen, he thought. He looked desperately at Jane as she withdrew her hand and stood facing him.'I didn't, I mean, I didn't know that…' he stammered.'it's OK, Bill,' said Jane kindly. 'As I said, you are very far from alone. Most men now are experiencing exactly what you are going through. It's a part of the big changes you are going through. Women understand, and we can help.''Why?' asked Bill, trying hard to control his emotions. He had heard vague stories about men needing diapers. It wasn't going to happen to him, he had thought. He was different. Sure, he ahd a few little trickles from time to time, and OK, he had wet the bed. But that was a one off. Like last time, he thought, then remembered that 'last time' was years ago, when he was in his early teens. 'Because there are a lot of changes going on,' said Jane. 'Changes in the way we live, and changes in our own behaviour, Bill. In women's behaviour, and in men's. It's all for the better. you know that we don't have an army now, and the ladies who run things get together regularly to make sure that the world continues to be a peacefiul place. You men are much happier now. You're being properly cared for, and part of that care is what I'm talking about now. You want to be properly looked after, don't you Bill? Having your needs met, and living a happy, comfortable life?'Bill couldn't argue with that. 'Yes,' he said. He flexed his thigh muscles. He could feel now that he had wet his pants. Here, of all places, he thought miserably. He could feel his bottom lip trembling, and he began to cry. Then he felt Ruth's arms ambracing him, and Jane or no Jane, he buried his head in her soft breasts. The room was quiet except for Bill's gentle sobbing.'It's alright, Bill,' Jane cooed, nodding at Ruth as she carefully took Bill's arm and led him to the low padded table at one side of the consulting room. She left Bill standing in front of the table while she opened a cupboard and withdrew an odd, bowl shaped plastic container. Bill stared at it, It looked like a big dog bowl with a profiled top.'Bill, I'm going to take your wet pants off, OK?' said Jane, as she unbuttoned Bill's pants at the waist. Ruth was standing next to Bill, stroking his hair.'It's alright, baby,' she told him. 'Jane is just helping you.'Bill stood stiffly as Jane pulled his pants down, exposing his wet underpants. He tried to stifle his sobs.'I'm sorry,' he said through his tears. 'Shh, Bill,' said Jane. 'There's no need to be sorry. This is all very natural, and you're being a very good boy about it.'Bill felt like a child as Jane took of his shoes and pulled each leg of his pants over his feet. Jane's fingers worked his underpants down his legs and took those off too. Bill felt himself blushing as Jane squatted in front of him. She would be looking straight at his bare genitals, he thought.'That wasn't so bad, was it?' said Jane as she stood up. 'Now, I want you to just pop yourself on here and have a wee. Can you do that for me?'Jane indicated the dog bowl-like container on the floor. Bill responded in a daze. The light pressure of Jane's hands as she guided him onto the bowl. Bill looked at Ruth for support. She smiled lovingly back at him.As Bill sat on the plastic bowl, Jane reached down and tucked his penis behind a small raised protion of the bowl in front of him. The curved flange around the rim made it quite comfortable to sit on. In his sitting position, with his knees bent up in front of him, Bill found himself almost automatically peeing. He listened to the splashing of his urine into the bowl. It wasn't long before the stream stopped.'Good boy, Bill!' said Jane.Bill actually felt a rush of pleasure at the compliment. He had been feeling threatened by the doctor, and scared of what was going to happen next, but now he remembered what he was doing. He remembered too, quite clearly, his mother's approval last time he had used the potty. That's what it was, he thought, happy that he had reminded himself of the word. It was a potty. An adult one, but still a potty.'Good boy, Billie.' his mother had said. 'I'm very proud of you.'Ruth rufffled his hair as he stood up. 'Good boy, Bill, I'm very proud of you,' she said, smiling at him then suddenly kissing him. Bill felt wonderful.'Now, Bill, up we get,' said Jane, helping him onto the padded bench.Bill complied with a grin. He had been feeling embarrassed and shameful about wetting his pants, but it was different now. He felt quite proud of having won approval from the two women.'I'm just going to have a good look at you, Bill,' said Jane. She pulled Bill's shoirt up to his chest, and began a routine of squeezing and pressing his stomach. Then she produced a stethoscope, and listened to his heart. After a minute, she picked up a jar, and opened it. She dipped her fingers in the jar, and applied some cool cream to Bill's privates.'This is just part of your treatment,' she reassured Bill as he started at the touch of her fingers. Jane wiped the cream around his penis and scrotum, and smeared it around his groin and lower tummy. The she turned him over, and Bill twitched again as she applied it to the soft flesh of his buttocks.Bill looked at Ruth, who was still smiling, and held his hand. Bill felt reassured. He really was being looked after.Next came the oral swab Bill had every time he visited the clinic. It only took a moment, and Jane entered the result on an iPad on her desk. 'All good,' she said, 'And that's it, Bill. Down you pop,'As Bill climbed off the table, Jane held out some puffy-looking white underpants.'Don't worry, Billie,' she said. 'These are perfectly comfortable. They'll stop the cream getting on your clothes, and if you have another accident, they'll stop you getting a wet patch. As I said, most men wear these now.'Bill put one leg into the pants as Jane held the waist open for him. Ruth squeezed his hand as he put his other leg in. Jane pulled the pants up past his waist. Bill felt the elasticated waist pressing slightly on his torso, and more elastic around the legholes lightly gripping his thighs. Tentatively, he put one hand to his crotch. He could just feel his genitalia beneath the material. His fingers slid around a little. The material seemed to be in layers, with a slippery layer somewhere in between.'They feel a little different, Bill,' explained Jane. 'That's because of they way they're made to help you stay comfortable. Most men really like them.''Do you wear these?' asked Bill. He wondered as soon as he said it if it was a silly question. But did women wear them?Jane laughed pleasantly and smiled at Bill.'No, honey, we're women. But men need them, and that's why you are wearing them,' she said.'Do girls wear them?' Bill continued.'No, honey, but little boys do. There's no need to worry. I live with a boy, a man, who wears them all the time. And he wets his bed just like you. So you needn't worry. And it's a lot better than wettting your pants, isn't it?' Jane said. They were warm and comfortable. And Bill felt relieved at not having to worry about his little trickles any more. Jane was right. He did need looking after, and she and Ruth were doing just that.'What about my pants?' Bill asked suddenly. He couldn't go home in his new underpants.'Just see Annie on your way out,' said Jane. 'She'll have something for you. I'll put these in a bag for the wash,' she added, folding Bill's wet chinos and placing them in a plastic bag which she handed to Ruth.'I do the washing!' said Bill proudly. 'I'm sure you do,' said Jane with a smile. 'You're a very clever boy.'Bill beamed with pride. To think he had not wanted to come here today, he thought. Now, not only did he feel much better about his occasional accidents, but he had had nothing but compliments from Jane since he had arrived.'You're nice,' he said, grinning thankfully at Jane.'So are you, honeybunch,' replied Jane.'Thanks so much, Jane,' said Ruth, taking Bill's hand as she turned to the door.'Glad to help,' said Jane. 'Annie will have your things. Can I have a quick word, Ruth?'Ruth ushered Bill through the door. 'Just wait in the waiting room, honey. I won't be long,' she said, and turned back to Jane, who reached around Ruth and gently closed the door.Bill looked around the now empty waiting room. He looked again at the posters. He wasn't sure if he should be proud or ashamed that he was now like one of the men in the posters, happily looking up at his wife in his puffy panties. At least he didn't need those big thick ones at night. Bill decided that he would not wet the bed again. Before leaving the clinic, Ruth took Bill into a side room where Annie, a pretty young nurse, greeted Bill with a smile and helped him into some new pants. They were a bit like track pants but tighter, and just pulled up. Bill was glad not to have to go outside in just his underpants. Annie left Bill's shirt loose outside the stretchy pants. Bill looked down at his crotch. It looked different now, a little bit pufffy, he thought, but at least it was dry.Bill led the way out, followed by Ruth who carried a large carton. Once they were outside, Bill noticed another couple walking towards the clinic. The man was dressed in the same stretchy pants as he had on, and he felt pleased to know that he was still like everyone else.Ruth put the carton on the passenger seat, and got Bill into the back seat.'You were very good in there, Bill, apart from one little cry. I think you deserve an ice cream. How about that?' asked Ruth as she clicked his seat belt around him.'Yes please!' said Bill. Bill sat in the back seat, licking his icecream.The golf club wasn't far from their home, and Ruth said that she wanted to call in to sign some card or something for Saturday. She had started playing regularly, and while Bill had at first been upset that he could no longer play, he soon realised that there was nothing to be done about it. Last Saturday, he had stayed at home alone for a few hours while Ruth played her round. He had felt a bit lonely, as he was in the habit of spending his Saturdays socialising, but as Ruth explained, the other men were at home too while the women played, so Bill was content to amuse himself with his computer games or to watch TV.When they reached the carpark, Ruth left to go to the clubhouse. Bill sat in the back seat, with nothing much to do.He had finished the last of his icecream, and was sitting back in the seat when there was a tap on the window. Bill looked up to see Erica Smith, the wife of one of his old golfing partners. He wound the window down. 'Hi Bill!' said Erica.'Hi Erica,' replied Bill. He saw that Tom, his golfing buddy, was standing next to Erica. He didn't look happy. 'Here's Bill,' Erica said. 'Say hi, darling.' Tom hardly glanced at Bill. 'Hi,' he said, then tried to pull away from Erica. Bill saw that Erica had him firmly by the hand.'Tom, behave!' said Erica. 'Do you want another smacking?' Bill's eyes widened in surprise.'I'm sorry, Bill,' said Erica, turning back to him. 'We went to the golf club and he didn't want to leave. I didn't see Ruth. Is she inside?''Yes,' said Bill. 'She's signing something.''Oh, good,' said Erica. 'That will be for the four on Saturday.''I don't know,' said Bill, amazed that Erica had threatened Tom with 'another smacking'.'Tom! Stop that!' said Erica, tugging again at Tom's arm as he tried to pull away from her.'I'd better go,' said Erica. 'I hope you're better behaved for Ruth than this one, Bill ,' she added over her shoulder as she dragged Tom farther into the carpark. Bill watched them go. Erica looked tall and strong in her designer jeans next to Tom, who like Bill had lost a lot of condition and was getting a little chubby. Tom was wearing a brightly coloured top and the same tight pants Bill had on now. Bill was surprised to see how full and bulky Tom's pants looked. He looked as though he was wearing a diaper. Bill sat and thought. He was wearing padded underpants himself, he thought. Not a diaper, but still padded pants. If that hadn't been common now, as Jane and Ruth had told him, he would have felt childish. Bill moved a little in the seat, and his pants felt different. He pressed his fingers behind to his groin. He was definitely wet. He wondered when he had went his pants. He wondered what Ruth would say. He had to tell her. He knew that. Ruth arrived a few minutes later, and got into the car.'Are you OK, honey?' she asked, turning in her seat to Bill.'Yep,' said Bill. 'I saw Erica and Tom.''Did you honey?' said Ruth. 'That was nice.' 'I think Tom had a, you know, those thick looking pants on,' said Bill. 'I saw it.'Ruth was quiet for a moment. 'Yes, Erica mentioned that. Tom wets a lot at night now, Bill, and he's been wetting in the daytime too,' said Ruth.Bill's heart beat a little faster. He had to tell her.'Ruth, I'm a bit wet, I think,' said Bill.He wished he didn't have to say that straight after what Ruth had said about Tom. Ruth didn't answer immediately. 'That's alright, Bill,' she said, looking a little concerned. 'I'll change you when we get home.''I can do it,' said Bill defensively. 'They only pull on.''Of course they do, honey,' said Ruth. 'Sorry. Now, I have to pick up a few groceries on the way home, and that's it.'Bill sat back again, and they drove off. It seemed very odd to see Erica telling Tom she was going to smack him again. Not long ago had been having a beer with Bill after a round of golf, telling his sexist jokes and laughing about Erica complaining about the time he spent in the golf club. Now, it looked as though Erica was definitely in charge, and Tom was wearing a diaper. How long ago had he been having a beer with Tom, Bill wondered. He couldn't remember. He thought again about Erica spanking Tom. He was a grown man. She was his wife, he thought. It was hard to understand.'She said she would spank him,' Bill said as they drove along.'Who said that?' asked Ruth, surprised.'Erica,' said Bill. 'She said she would smack Tom again if he didn't behave. I heard her say it.''Well, honey, he was probably doing something naughty,' said Ruth.She wasn't quite sure how to handle this, she realised. She'd discussed the matter of discipline with Jane during the last few visits, and had a long conversation with the community services adviser Jane had suggested she call. The CSAs were a part of the government's transition strategy. While the Elixir made men more accepting and docile, it also simplified their thinking to some extent, and sometimes the men would become frustrated, not understanding the reason they couldn't have what they wanted at that moment, for example. Bill had been pretty good so far, but the adviser had warned Ruth that he could become self-willed and rebellious despite the Elixir. It was quite normal, and was best treated on the spot with a harsh word, a firm smack or corner time, or in more serious cases, a proper spanking. If the bad behaviour continued, there were available training sessions which the men could be enrolled in. The CSA had also told Ruth It was also likely that Bill's bladder control would deteriorate further, and diapers 24/7 were a common outcome.Ruth found the concept weirdly attractive, and was quite interested to see how long it would be before the potty and diapers in the carton Jane had given her would be part of Bill's life. In the carton was a big packet of pullups, so there would be no problem with changing him when they got home.In the back seat, Bill stretched out his arms and yawned. At the same time, he experienced a pleasurable sensation in his groin. He closed his eyes, and only when he had stopped stretching and sat up again, he realised that he had just soaked his pants with a long, steady pee. Then he felt another sensation. he wasn't feeling unhappy, just mildly shocked, but his eyes began to water, and he caught his breath. He remembered the feeling from long ago. He needed Ruth's attention, now. A moment later, he could hear himself crying loudly. He couldn't stop. What is happening to me, he wondered, then gave himself up to his tears. Arriving home, Ruth helped Bill out of the car. It wasn't hard for Ruth to guess what the problem was, especially after her chat with Jane at the clinic. Daytime wetting was likely to become prevalent, Jane had said, as boys' bodies became more acclimatised to the Elixir. Ruth just hadn't expected the development to happen so suddenly. Neither, apparently, had poor Bill, she thought as she tried to calm him down and led him into the house.'It's OK, honey,' she told him. 'What happened is quite normal. Jane explained it. She looks after Tom, as you know, and she said he was having daytime accidents too. It's not a big deal, just part of the way the Elixir works. The bonus is that it's keeping you happy.''I was happy before, and I wasn't wetting my pants,' Bill told her, wiping his eyes then pulling at the front of his soaked pants. 'And I didn't cry so much before, either.''Don't worry, honey,' Ruth assured him. 'And you weren't really very happy before, were you? Remember all the stress at work? All that worry about your figures?'Bill wasn't sure he did remember much about that. He remembered when he used to go into the city centre all the time. He wasn't even quite sure any more what he used to do there. Every time he thought of it, he felt uncomfortable. He was happy now, he knew that too. He liked being at home, and he liked Ruth looking after him. He had lots of nice things to do at home. Ruth had got things for him to do - games and fun videos to watch.Bill stopped worrying about his wet pants for a moment, and looked at Ruth. He was so lucky to have her really. And he liked the Elixir, too. Every time he had his dose, it made him feel better. Ruth was right. Wet pants weren't a big deal. It was like when he wet the bed. Lots of men did that - the ads on TV showed that. No-one minded, and like the men in the ads, he had someone to look after him if he woke up wet.'Lets go inside and get you changed,' said Ruth, glad Bill seemed to be cheering up. 'It's time for your Elixir, too,' she added. 'You've moved up to strawberry now. Doesn't that sound nice?'Bill nodded. The orange Elixir he'd been having was good, and Ruth had said next time they saw Jane he'd be getting a new flavour. He followed Ruth into the house, looking forward to the new flavour. In the kitchen, Ruth put the carton she had been given at the clinic on the bench, and opened it to take out the bottle of reddish Elixir. 'You can have some now,' she told Bill, 'Then we'll deal with your pants, OK.'That sounded good to Bill. He was eager to try the strawberry Elixir, and he took the glass of rosy looking liquid from Ruth and enjoyed the smooth, velvety feel of the liquid in his mouth. As usual, he felt the pleasant tingling sensation sensation on his tongue as he tasted the fresh, strawberry flavour. Within a few seconds of swallowing his first mouthful, he began to feel on top of the world. 'How does that taste?' asked Ruth, watching Bill as he emptied the glass. 'Great,' said Bill. 'Jane said it would,' said Ruth. 'Now, you hop into the bedroom and take of your pants, then have a quick shower and we'll get you dressed again.'Bill did as he was told. He stripped off his soaked pants and and top and went to the bathroom. In the shower, he began soaping himself, enjoying the feeling of the warm water on his soapy skin. It wasn't until he was rinsing off the soap that he noticed that his pubic hair had gone. His first reaction was to giggle at how funny his dick and balls looked with no hair. They felt different too. He wasn't sure what it meant. Ruth would know, he thought, then his mind began to drift to other things, as it always did after he had had his Elixir. He looked up as Ruth came into the room.'Look!' he said, giggling as he showed her his denuded crotch.'I know, sweetie,' Ruth replied. Jane had told him that the Elixir would stop him worrying about the effects of the depilatory cream. He was probably going to need daytime protection soon, she had said, and loss of his pubic hair was essential for proper hygiene. 'Do you remember Jane putting cream on you? It's much better not to have all that hair. You'll be much more comfortable, and it's healthier too,' Ruth said.'You've got hair,' Bill said. 'I'm a woman, honey,' Ruth said. 'Now, back to the bedroom and onto the bed please.'Bill trotted into the bedroom. 'No!' Bill almost shouted as he saw what Ruth was spreading out on the bed next to where he lay, newly hairless and as naked as the day he was born.'Bill, please be grown up about this,' Ruth replied in a steady voice. She'd discussed the change with the doctor, and expected some resistance. Apart from anything else, the doctor had said, Bill will increasingly react to alterations in his routine. His bedtime, for example; even where Ruth sat him for his meals, and the plate and cup he used. His world is shrinking, if you like, the doctor had told Ruth, and little things in it are growing in importance, in Bill's mind, at least, the doctor said.Ruth watched Bill squirming on the bed. He looked as though he was about to get up. Ruth administered a sharp slap to Bill's pink buttock as he began to roll onto his side. It had the desired effect. Bill froze, and looked in confusion at Ruth. She had never hit him before. Ruth seized the moment, and addressed her husband sternly.'Bill!' she said. 'I said be a grown-up for a minute. this is no different from what you wear every night, except that it's cheaper, and Jane says it will be more comfortable and more effective. So co-operate, or I'll get really cross with you. I don't want to do that, but I will. Now, behave yourself and lift up.'Bill's lower lip was trembling as his eyes remained fixed on Ruth's impassive face. 'Ruth, it's,' he began but was cut off.'I know what it is,' replied Ruth. 'It's a better, cheaper alternative to your night-time diapers, which cost nearly two dollars each and which you are now using two or three of every night.'It was true. Ruth put Bill in his diaper every evening at around 6pm, straight after she gave him his dinner. His bedtime was 7 o'clock now - his acceptance of that had been another little battle - and he was often wet by then and needed a change. Ruth usually got up early, and let Bill stay in bed for an hour or two longer, but he usually woke when she got up and needed another change then. It had become another routine, and although Bill told himself that he only wet his diaper because he was wearing it - an odd logic but one which seemed correct to Bill - he did the sum in his head and came up with 6 dollars per night and 35 dollars every week. Or 60 dollars per week. He wasn't sure, and tried rethinking the sum but got even more confused. he furrowed his brow, and tried again.'Bill!' shouted Ruth as she moved back from the bed.Bill felt the problem before he realised what it was. He was peeing volubly, the urine running from his soft penis, between his thighs and onto the bedspread. He caught his breath, turned away from Ruth and tried to stop peeing, gripping his genitals with one hand as the lest of his pee trickled between his fingers and onto the bed. His emotions welled up and he slipped into the familiar territory of tearful apology to his wife.'Oh, for heaven's sake, Bill,' said Ruth crossly. 'I know you can't help it, but this is the second time you've wet like that in the last two days, isn't it?'Bill honestly couldn't remember. He remembered wetting in the car yesterday, but that wasn't it. Ruth shook some talc generously onto Bill's groin, patted it around his little penis and balls then manhandled Bill's rump upwards with his sobbing assistance and tugged the thick white towelling beneath him.'I'll deal with the bedspread when you're tucked in,' she said. 'I know you're upset, but I want you to stop crying and help me a bit.'Bill did his best, biting his lip and trying to stifle the next sob. He could feel the towelling diaper tightening as Ruth produced some diaper pins and tugged the cloth tightly across his tummy. The towelling was soft and warm, but that wasn't the point.'Now this material isn't waterproof, so you'll have to wear plastic panties too. These,' Ruth said, producing a folded, transparent square and opening it up. Bill looked silently at the big, plastic pants. He never thought he would have to wear something like that. He'd never even seen any posters of men in those. His thoughts swirled.'There,' said Ruth. 'Now, into bed, and I'll change the bedspread. The rest of the bedding might be OK.'Bill lay quietly as Ruth pulled the bedclothes up to his chin. It was clearly too late to complain about the new diaper being a baby diaper. Ruth had explained why he had to wear it, and he was in no position to argue, having just wet all over the bed. Still, the whole episode had been a shock.'He'll accept it sooner or later,' the doctor had told Ruth. 'It shouldn't take long with the Elixir. He may complain of feeling babyish - that's quite common. That isn't all bad, in fact. You said Bill doesn't have a favourite toy yet, didn't you? If he says anything about feeling infantile, it would be a good time to introduce something like that into the picture. It will help him settle in future. If the opportunity arises.'Ruth had been surprised at the doctor's words. 'And,' the doctor had gone on, 'Psychologically, that sort of interaction might be good for you too. It will bring you closer to him. It has for other women. It's a natural expansion of our roles. you might even enjoy it.'Jane had smiled as she said those last words, and Ruth hoped she hadn't noticed the slight rush of pleasure that had raced through Ruth's being. Ruth wasn't sure how guilty she should feel about how she was enjoying personally what after all was a well worked out social transformation aimed at ensuring the sustainability and stability of society. Ruth's friend Erica had said a couple of things about how she felt looking after her husband which had resonated, but Ruth hadn't felt she wanted to share her own feelings at this stage. however, she couldn't deny the strange pleasure she got from just thinking about how dependent Bill had become. And now she had just pinned him into a baby diaper, tucked him in and was considering which soft toy would be best for him.Ruth looked at Bill, who seemed a little out of it. He was just lying there, looking at her. Ruth stood up from where she had been sitting on the bed after getting Bill settled in for the night. She leant over him and kissed his forehead. 'How do you feel, honey?' she asked, noticing the silent tears were slowly coursing down Bill's cheeks. 'Ruth, I, I feel like, like a baby, Ruth,' he managed before breaking into a sob again. 'Baby pants…' he said between sobs, and turned his face to the pillow.Ruth watched him for a second, stroking the back of his head. What Jane had said was true. Ruth understood what a special, not to mention erotic, moment this was. She turned from Bill and picked up the big bag Jane had given her. There was something in the bottom of it. Ruth reached in and pulled out a small vacuum packed yellow object. She pulled art the seal along one side, and extracted the contents, which appeared to inflate into a fluffy yellow ball. she teased it out a bit, and realised it was a bright yellow teddy bear. A girl bear, apparently, as it was wearing a little dotted pink skirt and had red lips and big black eyes. A piece of pink paper fell from it onto the bed as it assumed its proper size. Ruth read Jane's neat script:'Tell him it's from you, with my approval, he'll love it.'Ruth smiled. How lucky we are, she thought, to have a doctor like Jane looking after things.'Honey,' Ruth said, gently shaking Bill's shoulder. 'Ive got a present for you, from Jane and me.'Bill turned slowly. Ruth saw that he'd stopped crying. 'Here you are,' Ruth said.Bill's eyes tried to focus on the yellow thing in front of him. the word 'present' had cheered him up. He had been thinking that he'd been reduced to being a baby. In his sleepy state, he'd been afraid that he might have to wear baby diapers all the time, and people would think he was a baby. Ruth was still grown up, spo was Erica and Jane. Bill had begun to feel quite alone in the way he was being treated. But now, a present - that derailed his unhappy thoughts. He blinked and smiled at the bright yellow object. The colour was nice, whatever it was, he thought. He dug one hand from under the bedclothes and reached out for the bear. Realisation dawned. 'It's a teddy,' he said, half in pleasure and half in question.'Yes,' said Ruth. 'She's for you. Doctor Jane thought you should have her. She's from me too.'Bill's mind was filled with thoughts of how nice Jane had been to him. She was a doctor, too, so the fleeting thought that he shouldn't have a teddy bear evaporated as soon as it appeared. His main emotion was of joy that he wasn't alone, that despite being put in the awful pants, Ruth and Jane cared for him, and that their care was symbolised by the teddy bear. Bill squeezed it. It was so soft, he thought. A new, simpler thought took over. He wasn't alone now. 'Thank you,' he said, his face glowing with happiness. He felt himself peeing again, but he didn't care. 'Thank you Mommy,' he said happliy, his eyes beginning to close as he held the bear next to his face on the pillow. 'I mean, Ruth,' he corrected himself sleepliy.Ruth felt another rush of emotion course through her body, and clenched her pelvic muscles to try to hold onto it. After a moment, she bent down and kissed Bill again, and stroked the bear's yellow coat.'What are you going to call her, honey?' Ruth asked. Bill didn't open his eyes. 'Doctor Jane,' he replied. 'Thank…'Bill's light voice trailed off has he fell asleep. The next morning, Ruth was up and about by the time Bill woke. The first thing Bill was aware of was something thick and tickly in front of his nose. He opened his eyes to see a yellow blur. Blinking, he realised that it was the soft toy Ruth had given him the night before. Bill felt an odd surge or pleasure at having Teddy so close. Itwas such a pelasant thought that Bill gave into it entirely, and gave Teddy an affectionate squeeze.'Good morning,' he said aloud to the toy, and immediately felt foolish for saying it.Bill climbed out of the bed. As he stood up, he felt his soaked cloth diaper sagging inside his plastic pants. It felt quite different than a wet taped on diaper. Bill remembered being pinned into his cloth diaper last night and he remembered arguing with Ruth. He didn't like doing that, and it wasn't a very pleasant memory.'In the kitchen, darling!' came Ruth's voice. 'I'm just going to have a shower,' replied Bill.'No, in here, please darling,' replied Ruth. 'I'm about to leave and I want to talk to you about some things.'Bill shrigged and went to the kitchen. He usually went to the bathroom to pee when he got up, and now he felt himself spurt a bit into his wet diaper. He tried to stop, but his body was insistent, and he let it go. He was wet anyway, he thought. As he entered the kitchen, he pulled his t-shirt down in a futile attempt to cover his diaper.'Good morning, honey,' said Ruth. 'Your juice is on the table.'Ruth laughed as she saw that Bill was holding Teddy in one hand.'Perhaps I should have made breakfast for Teddy, too,' Ruth said, still laughing.Bill blushed. 'I… I just had it in my hand,' he muttered.'Her,' corrected Ruth. 'She happens to be a girl Teddy. Teddy can be a girl's name too. Like Bobby, or Billy, if you were a sweet little girl. Here, we'll put her on this chair.'Ruth reached down to take Teddy, but Bill pulled the toy back possessively. Ruth smiled.'I'll do it,' Bill said, setting Teddy down on the chair. He peed a bit more as he did so, and Ruth noticed the glistening pee through the clear plastic pants. 'Are you wetting again, darling?' asked Ruth with a look of concern. Bill tried to clench his muscles, but it was no use. He looked away from Ruth.'It doesn't matter, honey, that's what your diaper is for,' said Ruth. 'It will hold a bit more. I'll change you before we go out.'Bill didn't answer. So she was going to be change him, he thought. He always wore pullups when they went out, and he was ok with that. He could put those on himself. But now she was going to 'change' him. That could only mean a proper diaper, in the day time. He felt his eyes watering as he sat, very conscious of the solid mass of wet towelling between his bottom and the chair.Ruth watched him, and guessed his thoughts.'Honey, at the moment, you're having a little trouble, and I don't want you wetting the furniture. You've just wet again, haven't you? It's only sensible for you to wear something that can cope with your accidents, so don't get upset. I've got some Elixir or you when you finish your orange juice. Won't that be nice?'Bill nodded. At least that was a bright prospect in an embarrassing morning. He finihsed his orange juice in a couple of gulps, and Ruth handed him his Elixir with a kind smile. Bill took it with both hands. 'Thank you,' he said, and took a long sip of the sweet, silky smooth liquid. Bill could feel the drink doing him good straight away, as he always did. He closed his eyes for a moment, then opened them to smile at Ruth, then at Teddy. 'Feeling better?' asked Ruth. 'Yes, thank you,' replied Bill happily, and took a moment to drain the glass. 'More?' he said to Ruth, holding the glass out towards her.Ruth laughed. Bill loved her silvery laugh. Hearing it was like being showered in soft, shiny leaves. He giggled at the thought. He liked playing in leaves.'Come on baby,' said Ruth, putting out her hand to Bill. 'We have to change that diaper.'As Ruth led him from the kitchen, Bill stopped.'What's up, baby?' Ruth asked.Then she laughed again. 'We forgot Teddy, didn't we?' she said, bending her neck to kiss Bill on the top of his head.'I'll get her,' said Bill, letting go of Ruth's hand to retrieve the doll from the chair. Ruth waited, smiling, while Bill waddled in his sagging diaper to the chair and returned with Teddy. She held her hand out slightly and smiled again as Bill grasped it without hesitation. Ruth changed Bill on a towel on their bed. She spent a little extra time talcing his groin, stroking the soft skin around his bare genitals. Jane had told her that the Elixir would smooth and soften his skin. It certainly had. Ruth was a little jealous, thinking of her own thick, wiry bush compared with Bill's silky skin. Jane said his pubic hair wouldn't grow back, and Ruth picked up Bill's soft, pink penis in her fingers. It had been a long time since it had been erect, Ruth thought. Jane said the Elixir not only softened the skin and reduced the muscle tone, while encouraging subcutaneous fat and reducing body hair to a fine down, but it produced permanent impotence as well. Ruth thought of the still boxed dildo Jane had given her, and which she hadn't dared to use yet. Or rather wear, she thought. Jane said she wore one vaginally most of the time, and suggested Ruth try doing the same. 'Where are we going?' asked Bill, snapping Ruth from her thoughts. 'Oh, just out to get a few things, and make a couple of calls,' replied Ruth, finishing diapering Bill and standing him up to pull on his plastic panties. 'No pull-ups?' asked Bill. Ruth was pleased Bill didn't seem overly concerned. He really was much more placid now, Ruth thought, recalling the arguments and tension even about Bill wearing diapers at night in the past. 'Will we get ice-cream?' asked Bill suddenly. Ruth laughed. 'If you're good,' she told him. 'Let's go,' said Bill, grabbing Ruth's hand and tugging her towards the door. 'Hold on, mister!' said Ruth, laughing again. 'We've got to put pants and a top on you. And shoes. You don't want to go out wearing just your diaper, do you?' Bill stopped, and looked at Ruth. His thoughts whirled. Being diapered, lying back holding Teddy while Ruth gently stroked his tummy and wrapped him in a soft diaper had made him feel that everything was ok and that he was ready to go anywhere. The short-lived first flush of a glass of Elixir had something to do with it as well, of course. Bill tried to collect his thoughts, a process that wasn't always easy. He was big. He was an adult. He wet his pants sometimes because he couldn't help it. He could never go out in public in just his diaper. In just a diaper, he tried to tell himself. He needed pants, and a top to go out. He was grown up, like Ruth. Maybe not quite as grown up, he thought, looking at Ruth's shapely legs and flat crotch encased in her tight jeans. She's a woman, and women are grown up and don't need diapers, he told himself. But he was still a lot grown up. Ruth watched Bill deep in thought with interest. Jane had said that he would struggle internally at times, less and less aggressively, to rationalise his diapers and increasing dependence on Ruth with his years of memories of being an adult. Bill turned to Ruth with an odd look. 'I'm not a baby,' he said. Ruth laughed again, looking at the Bill's soft chubby body and his clean, puffy diaper. 'Of course you're not, honey,' she told him. 'Now let's find some pants and a top for you.' Taking Bill's hand, she led him, still clutching Teddy, across the room to the chest of drawers. With Bill waiting quietly next to her, Ruth opened a drawer and took out two pastel coloured t shirts. On Jane's suggestion, she offered Bill a choice of two equally infantile garments. One had Barney the Dinosaur and friends on the front, and the other Thomas the Tank Engine. Bill grinned when he saw the designs. He enjoyed watching both TV programs. 'Thomas!' he said without prompting and stretched both his arms up towards Jane. 'OK, honey,' said Ruth, 'Thomas it is.' Ruth pulled the selected shirt over her husband's arms and settled the garment around his waist. 'Now for your pants,' she said, and produced a new pair of loose fitting shorts in soft, stretchy terry, with elasticated leg openings. There was no fly or opening. None of Bill's pants had openings or fasteners now. Even his treasured jeans were jeans only in that they were denim. Like all his pants, they had plain fronts and elasticated waists. Bill didn't seem to notice the change to his wardrobe. He had no use for a fly now, and since Ruth always dressed him, he hadn't missed a belt or buttons. There were several firms making toddler clothes in larger sizes, and Jane enjoyed looking through their catalogs. Now that Bill was in diapers 24/7, she had revamped his entire wardrobe. Ruth like dressing Bill in soft colours and she found the plainer styles in the girls and young miss catalogs most suitable. Bill did his best to help Ruth get his legs into the pale yellow pants she'd chosen. His balance wasn't what it was - one reason he took care on steps, holding Jane's hand if he could, and preferred to sit on the floor than at a table when he was colouring in or drawing. Soon, Bill was ready, with his socks and sneakers on as well. Jane thought he looked sweet in his t shirt and bulging terry pants. She knew he was still under the immediate influence of the Elixir, but the occasional later outbursts from Bill of 'I'm big I don't want to go to the shops in a diaper' had become less frequent, and Jane hoped that today would be one of those 'good days'. 'Come on, sweetie,' she said, took Bill's hand and led him out the front door. To be continued.

Changes Chapter 2 Jan's cell phone rang. Steve looked up with interest at the sound. He didn't have a cell phone now, and the minor drama that had occurred when Jan had taken his phone away was in the past. He was no longer sure enough of his numbers to use one anyway. He viewed Jan's cell phone as just another of the adult things he was no longer concerned with. Jan took the phone from a back pocket of her tight jeans. 'Kath, hi,' she said. 'Just about to have breakfast,' she replied to Kath, then listened. 'Playing on the floor,' she said. 'I'm sure he would,' she added. 'See you then.' Jan slid the phone back into her pocket and approached Steve. 'OK, baby,' said Jan, extending her hand down to him. 'Let's deal with that diaper then have some breakfast.' Jan led Steve to the downstairs changing area she'd set up. Steve was quite compliant. Jan sometimes wondered what he was thinking as she wiped and talced his soft, smooth skin. She was a little envious of Steve's smooth flesh, and had asked Kath if she had something that would do the same for her, without the side effects. Kath had laughed. 'I'm afraid not,' she had said. 'You'll just have to rely on moisturiser.' Jan held Steve's penis between a thumb and finger as she wiped around it with her other hand. Steve smiled. He liked her touching it, although he no longer had erections. He liked touching it himself, though Jan got cross when he did it in front of visitors. Jan missed Steve's erections, although their loss was a small price to pay. Anyway, thought Jan, in its present reduced state, even erect it wouldn't be much good to her. She lifted his penis away from his body and wiped the little patch of wrinkled skin that was all that was left of his scrotal sac. There really wasn't much between Steve's legs at all now, she thought. She remembered that in the last months that Steve still wore underpants that it wasn't immediately obvious from his diminished crotch that he was male. Jan finished diapering Steve. On Kath's suggestion, she used cloth diapers and plastic pants when they were home. Although it made for more washing, it was cheaper, easier on the environment and Jan liked the way it made Steve seem even more infantile. 'Kath's coming over later, honey,' Jan told Steve as she sat him down for breakfast. 'Kath,' repeated Steve. Jan smiled again. There was a time when the mention of Kath brought fearful tears from Steve. After Kath's medications and therapy sessions with Steve had produced his first public messed pants, resulting in his tearful, halting request to Jan to be diapered for public outings, Steve had become agitated whenever Kath visited. But Kath had dealt with that too, and now Steve considered her a favourite among the adults in his life. Short again, but to be continued.

I've written Chris into a bit of a corner in my last story 'The Home'. I'm still trying to think how to get him out of it. In the meantime, here's another story. Changes Chapter 1 'I need to get dressed now, honey,' said Jan. 'Go downstairs and play then I'll make breakfast. Pancakes, OK?' 'OK,' said Steve. He got up from his wife's big bed where he'd been sitting. Jan had got out of bed, and Steve looked longingly at her well built form under her sheer nightdress. Her full breasts were prominent under the thin pink material, and he could see her panties and the curve of her pubic mound through the nightdress as Jan tidied the bed. It had been a long time since Steve had seen Jan naked. 'Off you go, please sweetie,' said Jan. 'Careful going down the stairs.' Steve left the bedroom. As he waddled along the hall to the stairs, his thoughts were mixed. He was thirty one years old. 'But you're not really, are you baby?' Jan had told him more than once. He wasn't, either, he had to admit as he reached the stairs. He wasn't too confident using them, and put one hand on the handrail as he descended one step at a time. His balance wasn't a hundred percent now, and he looked forward to settling down on the floor in the living area with his toys. He reached the bottom of the stairs and looked across the big room to where his toys lay waiting. He no longer felt embarrassed or ashamed about liking playing with them. The pleasure they gave him was too strong. A year ago, he might have worried why he enjoyed them, but now, such reflections seemed pointless and confusing. He liked them, and Jan was all in favour. She occasionally surprised him with new items, too. After the challenge of the stairs, Steve stood holding onto the post at the bottom of the steps. His instinct was to sit down then crawl to the toys. He vaguely remembered how it felt when he discovered how good it was to be so reassuringly safe on the floor as he moved around. Now, he spent much of the day on the floor. When he did stand or walk, it was often holding Jan's hand. Still, walking was quicker, and he set out, with his eyes on his friend Teddy, a red plush bear who sat among the blocks and farm animals on the rug near the window. Steve's wet and bulky nighttime diaper sagged beneath his cartoon patterned plastic panties as he crossed the room. Jan usually changed him before she made breakfast, and in a nook of the big room there was a stock of his supplies, as there was in his bedroom upstairs. Steve reached the toys and settled himself happily among them. He peed as he picked up Teddy, but was almost oblivious to it. It had been a long time since he had had any bladder control, and peeing had become as natural as breathing. The urine streamed from the soft penis nestled in his towelling diaper and warmed his hairless crotch. The thick folds of his diaper readily absorbed the flow. His plastic panties gave further protection. The thick diaper, plastic panty and a longish t shirt was all that Steve wore most of the time at home now. It reduced the washing and made changes easier. It wasn't long before Jan came down the stairs. She smiled as she looked at Steve. Short, but to be continued.

There's an air of mystery about what comes next, that's for sure. I've let Chris act a bit more grown up, but it's not a stable state for him. He needs to be put back into his comfort zone. I'm thinking about how to do that.

The Home Chapter 11 The mild disturbance created by Chris's arrival had subsided by the time Chris had introduced himself to Peter and Steve. Chris spoke to Steve while Peter went on unpacking the furniture pieces and putting the right number of legs and struts in little piles. 'Steve,' said Chris quietly. 'My diaper's wet. Who do I ask?' Steve looked at Chris's thick diaper. He knew the appearance of a wet one, and Chris's looked soaked. 'You ask one of the nurses,' replied Steve, 'But only Angela is here and she's in the changing room with El. Why didn't you get a change before you came here?' 'Er, I did, but I need another one,' said Chris. 'Wow,' said Steve. 'How much did you drink?' 'Oh, no,' said Chrtis. 'I, erm, pooped last time.' 'You pooped your diaper?' Steve said with surprise. 'Abby pooped her diaper, and that's why she went back to Pre-teens.' 'Twice,' said Peter, still sorting pieces at the other end of the bench. 'Yeah,' said Steve. 'Same day. She talked them out of sending her the first time, but the next time she was goneski.' 'Shitting your diaper is a big no-no here,' said Peter. 'We're supposed to be grown up. Sometimes you go from here back home or even get a job if you're grown up enough and out of diapers properly.' 'Though some people want to stay here,' said Steve. 'Like Erin,' said Peter. 'Remember her, Steve? She hated pooping because it was messy, then they selected her for St Corantyn's or whatever it was, and she made herself mess two days straight so they kept her here.' 'Once while they were changing her pissy diaper,' added Steve. 'Except she overdid it and went back to Littlies. I think she's still there.' 'Yeah, she is,' said Peter. 'Terri told me, and I saw her in the playground after that. She was there for months, and she forgot how to count and stuff, and they kept her there.' 'Weird shit happens here,' said Steve. 'I saw one of the nurses feeding one of the Babies once. One night when their door was open and I was coming out of the big bathroom. Like properly feeding, off her tit.' Peter looked around anxiously. 'Shut up, Steve!' he said. 'If they hear you saying that they'll bust you!' 'Bugger,' said Steve. 'What?' said Chris, who had been listening attentively. 'Now I'm wet,' said Steve. 'I'll follow you. There are only two benches in there.' 'OK,' said Chris, and headed off to the changing station. When he got there, he found Elinor sitting on the bench, naked from the waist down, arguing with Angela. Elinor glanced at Chris as he entered, but showed no other reaction. 'I don't care, Elinor,' Angela was saying. 'There is not one set of rules for everyone else and one set for you. Now lie back on the bench please. Hi Chris,' she said, 'I'll be with you in a minute. I have to deal with Elinor here, although maybe not for much longer if she goes back to keep Abby company.' 'I haven't pooped,' said Elinor heatedly. 'And I'm not wearing those. I want my other panties.' She put her hand to her bare hair. 'And my tiara.' 'Elinor,' said Angela firmly. 'I know it's been your big day, but your princess panties are wet, and you can't wear your tiara lying on the bench. Now I can send you back to Pre-teens for misbehaviour. Is that what you want? You are holding up Chris now too. He needs a change and you are wasting time.' 'I don't care,' said Elinor. 'I'll go back outside with nothing on, and wait until my panties are dry. In my tiara.' Elinor wiped her hand across her face, smearing her bright red lipstick across her chin. She set her jaw and glared at Angela. Angela could not suppress her laughter. 'Oh, Elinor darling,' she said, trying not to laugh. 'Please behave. I'm supposed to give you a last warning, which I will. Last warning Elinor. But I'll do you a deal. If you lie back on the bench, I'll try to dry your princess panties, and I'll give you back your tiara as soon as I've diapered you. Deal?' Elinor looked cross, but said OK, and got up on the bench and lay down. Chris saw that she too had a smooth, hairless crotch. She put one hand to it. 'Elinor, do not do that!' said Angela immediately, smacking Elinor's hand which she instantly retracted. 'You are being deliberately naughty, aren't you?' added Angela. 'No,' said Elinor mildly, looking at Chris with a quick grin. 'I'll pretend I didn't see any of it,' said Angela, 'Now lie still,' she ordered Elinor, and began to wipe the young woman's vulva. 'If you give me her panties, I'll try to towel them dry,' offered Chris. Angela looked at Chris. 'I'm not supposed to,' said Angela, 'But here. Anything to get Little Miss Princess here changed and gone.' Angela handed Chris a pair of plastic panties. They were translucent pink with stars and crowns on them, and white lace around the elasticated openings. Chris found a towel, and did his best to wipe them dry. 'You're lucky he's so helpful,' Angela said to Elinor as she talced the girl's crotch. 'She's so helpful, you mean,' said Elinor with a giggle. Chris blushed. 'Elinor, you are so close to going to Pre-teens,' said Angela. 'You really are atrocious. If you were the other way around, I'd give you a severe spanking right now, Teens or not.' 'You wouldn't dare,' said Elinor. 'Try me,' said Angela. 'What's that?' said Elinor suddenly. 'What?" said Angela. 'On your nose,' said Elinor. 'It's, wait, give me a look.' Worried, Angela put her fingers to her nose, but felt nothing. 'No, it's still there,' said Elinor, reaching up and putting her hand behind Angela's head. Angela leant forward to give Elinor a closer look at her nose. Elinor planted a long, smacking, lipstick-laden kiss on Angela's surprised lips. 'Ha,' she said with the broadest of grins as Angela eventually sprang back when Elinor released her hand. 'Now spank me!' 'Oh Elinor,' said Angela, who seemed quite upset. 'You,... Elinor, please...' Angela turned to Chris. She had tears in her eyes. Chris couldn't figure it out. 'You can't say anything to anyone,' Angela said to him. 'Chris, it's... Elinor... You can't say anything, OK? You have to promise.' 'I promise,' said Chris, although he wasn't sure what he was promising about. 'Thank you Chris,' Angela said, taking his hand and squeezing it. 'Thank you.' Angela took the now mostly dry panties from Chris. She took a fresh wet wipe and wiped the smear of outrageous red lipstick from her face, then turned to Elinor. Chris watched the two women with interest. He still couldn't figure out what was going on. Without looking at her, Angela finished diapering Elinor, who sat up again on the bench. Angela stood in front of her, while Elinor dropped down from the bench into the plastic panties Angela was holding ready. Angela pulled them up around Elinor's waist. 'And as for you, Princess For A Day Elinor,' Angela said to Elinor in a very firm voice, although Chris could see that her eyes were saying something different, 'You had better, well, change your ways or someone will send you back, although you'd be missed. Very much missed,' she added in a strange, strangled voice, turning away from Chris. 'I'll fix you in a minute, Chris,' she said with her back to him. 'I just have to get something.' Angela went to a cupboard at the far end of the room and opened it, digging around inside. Elinor dropped down from the bench. She patted her newly fitted diaper front and back. She picked up her tiara from the end of the bench, smoothed her hair and adjusted the plastic crescent on her head. She turned towards Angela. 'Thank you, dear Angela,' she said. Angela didn't reply. Elinor smiled at Chris. 'You should wear your ponytail lower,' she said quietly, smiled again, opened the door and left. 'Yeah,' thought Chris. 'Weird shit does happen here.' To be continued.

The Home Chapter 10 After a few minutes, Chris's tears subsided, and his head began to clear. He closed his eyes aand tried to block out all thoughts of the Home and his current situation. It seemed to help. 'I'm 38 years old.' he told himself. 'i'm a man. I have some continence issues so I wear a protective garment. My wife is at this institution doing some work, and the staff have been good enough to keep me company while she works. The Director of Nursing has offered to let me spend some time with the Home's senior group to pass the time. I'm willing to do that. I'm sitting with her now, about to go to the group.' Chris sat up. 'I'm OK, Sonia,' he said. 'I really am. Thanks for the support. I'm ready to go to the group, if you are. It should be interesting.' Sonia looked with surprise at Chris. In the fine featured face, and the light voice, she saw and heard an adult. She wasn't sure what to think. 'I'm sorry about the incident in the hall back then,' said Chris. 'I hope you weren't put to too much trouble.' 'No,' said Sonia, raising her eyebrows. She wondered if Chris might be slightly schizophrenic. Whatever was going on with Chris, it seemed to solve the immediate problem of his placement for the afternoon. 'Well,' she said, 'Let's go then.' Sonia stood up and straightened the front of her uniform. Chris didn't take her offered hand, and together they walked the short distance to the shed. Sonia's well-trained eye spotted Chris's wet diaper, bulging slightly in the tight confines of his shortall. 'Chris, just a minute,' said Sonia, stopping and turning to him. 'Your diaper looks wet. Would you like me to change you again before we go to the group?' 'No thanks,' said Chris. 'I don't think I'll wet again for a while, and I'm not uncomfortable.' 'OK,' said Sonia, and they resumed walking. They reached the coloured chairs drying in the sun. 'They do a good job,' said Chris, stopping to examine one of the chairs. 'Yes, they do,' said Sonia. 'They're very small,' said Chris, looking closely at one of the chairs. 'Yes.' said Sonia. 'They're for kindergartens and pre-schools, mainly.' She was still surprised in the sudden change in Chris. She'd seen the phenomenon before, but it wasn't common. They entered the spacious shed. They were met by Angela, who shared caring for Group 4 with Terri, whom they had encountered earlier. Angela was a plump woman of about 35. She too wore blue overalls which fitted tightly over her rounded body. Her big breasts bulged in a white t shirt either side of her overalls' bib, and her tummy and crotch were as tightly encased in the blue fabric as Chris's were in his pastel shortall. Angela said a few words to Sonia and stood next to her while she prepared to introduce Chris to the group. Chris looked around at the busy scene. At benches in various parts of the shed people were doing carpentry, assembling things and painting them. Chris recognised the girls he'd seen earlier at a bench, industriously painting assembled chairs. 'Everything's delivered here partly cut,' explained Sonia to Chris. 'The boys do the final assembly work, making sure everything fits, then they glue and screw the pieces together. Then the girls here sand and paint the finished product, which on a day like this, goes outside to dry.' 'I'm a painter!' said one of the girls Chris had seen earlier. She took a step forward and held up her paintbrush. 'But I choose all the colours!' said another of the girls, and pushed the first girl aside to be the centre of attention. 'You do not!' said another girl farther back. 'I did all the colours yesterday, and that one!' she exclaimed, pointing to a partly painted chair standing on the bench. 'Shush, girls,' said Sonia. The girls calmed down, with a few muttered 'Did so!' and 'Did not's. Work had stopped in the busy shed while Sonia was speaking. A visit from the Director of Nursing was an important one, and the 20 or so people in the shed were looking at Sonia and at the new face with her. 'Hullo everyone,' said Sonia, speaking to the whole room. 'Now I've got Chris with me,' said Sonia, standing back so everyone could see Chris. 'Chris will be here for the afternoon, and I want you to do your best and be friendly.' 'She can paint with us!' one of the girls said loudly. A general hubbub ensued, with various groups of guests claiming the right to the interesting company of the pretty newcomer with the blonde ponytail. Chris heard the female pronoun, and the anxious feelings began to well up again. 'Please be quiet, everybody,' Sonia said, and the room was silent. 'First, Chris is a boy, not a girl,' she said. There were giggles, and someone said 'He looks like a girl!' 'Quiet, please!' said Sonia, raising her voice. 'Where's his wee wee?' a girl's voice said. 'Quiet!' said Sonia even more loudly. 'Who said that?' The room became very quiet. Sonia waited for a good ten seconds. 'Whoever made that last comment,' she said seriously, 'It wasn't very nice and it certainly wasn't ladylike. You know we don't talk about those things here. Chris is in diapers, but so are some of you, and most of you are diapered at night. So that's not a big deal. I expect you to help Chris fit in, and if there's any more silly talk, the person involved might find herself, or himself, in the Pre-teens tomorrow.' 'Like Abby,' someone said. 'Yes, like Abby,' said Sonia. 'Is she coming back?' someone asked. 'Not at the moment,' said Sonia. 'Now I want Chris to start with the boys up the back putting the chairs together.' 'I'll get him!' announced a guest of about 25, wearing the same colour of shortalls as Chris wore, and stepping forward to walk towards Chris. 'Nathan, go back to your bench, please,' ordered Sonia. 'I don't want Chris starting with glue and tools. Chris can help Peter and Steve unpacking the pieces. Chris,' she said, turning to Chris, 'That's bench one, over in the corner. The boys will show you what needs to be done, then you can work with them. Off you go,' she added guiding Chris forward towards the two boys. ''Oh, we wanted him, even though he's not a proper girl,' complained one of the painters, a diapered woman in her late twenties wearing a pink shortall, incongruously bright red lipstick with no other makeup, and a glittering plastic tiara. 'It's my princess day, too.' 'Stop it Elinor,' said Angela. 'You had a princess breakfast, and we've sung the princess song for you. You'll have plenty of time to meet Chris later, so don't be selfish.' 'I wasn't!' retorted Elinor grumpily. 'Elinor! The Director of Nursing is here!' said Angela sternly, and Elinor, pointedly adjusting her tiara, hitched up her shortall over her bulky diaper and looked back down at the chair she was painting. Angela watched her steadily. 'Do you need a diaper change, Elinor?' asked Angela. 'No I don't!' said Elinor emphatically. 'I'm only wearing this because I had an accident this morning,' she added angrily. 'And yesterday,' said another of the girls, giggling. Another girl chimed in. 'And the day before that, and the day...' 'For heaven's sake, girls!' said Angela, raising her voice. 'What will Sonia think! You're here because you're grown up and well-behaved. I wouldn't blame her if she put you all back in Pre-teens, or even Littlies! Now please act like the young ladies you are supposed to be. Elinor, though you don't deserve it, you can say goodbye to Sonia for us. She's leaving now. Elinor?' Elinor stepped forward and stood in front of Sonia. She knew the routine. Sonia stood smiling expectantly at the young woman. Elinor curtsied as well as she could in her bulky diaper and stood up. 'Thank you for coming to see us, Director Sonia,' she said in a clear voice. 'We hope you have a nice day.' 'Thank you, Elinor,' said Sonia.'That was very well done. Goodbye everyone,' she added, and left the building. Elinor beamed with pride. She had been a PA to the chairman of a national company, and had enjoyed meeting and greeting important people in her job. Doing the same thing here made her feel quite grown up. 'She's wet her diaper again, look,' one of the girls sniggered as Elinor strutted back to her painting bench. 'Patsy, do you want to follow Abby? Because you will if you keep that up,' said Angela crossly. 'Elinor, come with me please.' Elinor lost her strut as she followed Angela through a side door to Group 4's small changing station. 'Get on with your work, everyone,' said Angela to the room as she ushered Elinor through the door. 'Terri will be back shortly and I want you all to be working quietly.' Chris had watched the proceedings from his spot at the unpacking table. He saw that Steve was diapered and decided to ask him what do if you were wet. To be continued.

The Home Chapter 9 Chris watched the two girls putting newly painted chairs out to dry in the sunshine. They were about Chris's size, but he noticed that neither of them had the bulky appearance of wearing a diaper. Another girl appeared from the shed as they walked towards it. She spoke to the other girls, and didn't appear to be diapered either. Chris felt very self-conscious about his heavily diapered state by comparison, and gripped Sonia's hand more tightly, moving closer to her for security. Sonia stopped walking and turned to Chris. Sonia had concerns of her own about Chris and group 4, despite her telling Wendy that Chris, though incontinent and very shy, had the social maturity to cope with the 'Teens'. 'Has he been assessed?' Wendy had asked in her brief meeting with Sonia. Assessment was a fundamental procedure at the Home. Arrivals were usually clinically assessed at the earliest opportunity. Various behavioural parameters were considered, involving the new guests perceptions of themselves and their reactions in social situations they'd be involved in at the Home. Of particular importance were their interactions with other guests, and with staff. After seeing Chris crawling on the floor of the hall, sobbing because he'd fallen and wet his diaper or vice versa, Wendy was uncertain about Chris's suitability for Group 4, especially when Sonia told her he hadn't been assessed, but she deferred to the head nurse's authority. Now Sonia had misgivings as well. In the back of her mind was the founder's clear instruction in the Home's bible, 'The Care and Management of Troubled Individuals' that all new guests should be assessed before being placed in a Group. Sonia, of all people, didn't want to be responsible for creating a disturbance in the otherwise happy and orderly functioning of Group 4. She took Chris over to a garden bench under a tree. Chris followed, still watching the girls, who were now going back into the Group 4 shed. 'Sit here for a minute, Chris, please. I want to talk to you,' said Sonia. Chris sat on the bench, feeling as usual that he was sitting on a cushion. Sonia sat next to him, turned to him and smiled at Chris. She gave him a moment to settle. It was a warm, sunny day, and the break sitting on the bench gave Chris respite from his nervousness about joining the apparently undiapered guests in the shed. Chris looked at Sonia, thinking how much he liked her. 'You've got big boobies,' he observed, his eyes going to Sonia's generous breasts. Sonia smiled. 'Thank you, Chris,' she replied with a laugh, but Chris's comment gave her reason to wonder about his state of mind. She regretted now that Chris hadn't been assessed, but his circumstances were a little unusual. Both 3 and 2 operated as daycares for the occasional casuals who weren't guests for one reason or another. It was officially called 'intermittent care' although the girls called it 'babysitting'. 'I had one of those,' continued Chris, reaching out to touch Sonia's nurses' watch, pinned to her uniform. Sonia gave Chris a quick hug. 'Did you honey?' she said. 'When did you have one of those?' Chris looked thoughtful. 'I dunno,' he said. 'Before.' Awareness of the passing of time was one of the parameters used in the assessment. It was understandable that the guests lost some of that awareness once they entered the Home's life, since there were deliberately no clocks or calendars in the Home's guest areas. Yesterday, today and tomorrow were adequate markers of the passage of time for most of the guests' lives in the Home. Even the days of the week weren't referred to in dealing with the guests. 'Before what, honey?' asked Sonia, still smiling at Chris and running her fingers along his shining blonde ponytail. It really would look nice with a ribbon, Sonia thought. 'Before... When I was, you know...' Chris's voiced trailed off. He felt himself wetting. It didn't disturb him at all. He no longer felt any of the breathless desperation and embarrassment he used to feel at his daytime accidents. After Alice had first fallen in with Jess's urging and had put him in daytime diapers, Chris would stop in his tracks, clutching Alice's hand or the nearest piece of her clothing when he wet, and tears would usually follow. Now, wetting his diaper was just a routine part of his life. 'Chris, I want you to think about adults. I want you to name the first three adults you can think of. Can you do that for me?' said Sonia. Chris thought. 'Alice,' he said. 'And Jess... and you.' Chris looked confidently at Sonia. 'Well done, Chris,' Sonia replied. That was one of the earliest questions in the assessment. Subjects usually named the most important adults in their increasingly limited world view. Their parent figure or figures usually came first, followed by other significant adults. If they were diapered, the adults who regularly changed their diapers were mentioned. Often, if siblings or even the subject's children did diaper duty as well, they were named as adults, despite thier relative age. 'And what about you, Chris, are you an adult?' Sonia asked him. Sonia watched Chris's face carefully. Chris looked back at her, then down at his bulging crotch and the studs between his legs. The question made him anxious, and he felt himself peeing steadily. He tried to think of himself as an adult. He thought of his wedding photograph in Alice's bedroom at home. Then he thought of himself at work, but that memory morphed into one of him being criticised for forgetting to make an important call by his immediate boss, Jenny Trimble, and leaving her office almost in tears, wetting his pants on the way back to his cubicle and having to rush home where Alice took over, calling the office to say Chris was sick. Jess had been home, and had convinced a reluctant Alice that Chris needed to be diapered, partly as a precaution against further accidents and partly as punishment 'for wetting his pants like a toddler', as Jess had said. That was the first time Chris had been diapered during the day, and he'd spent the rest of the day feeling acutely embarrassed wearing a thick diaper under his track pants. Although he stayed dry for the rest of the day, Jess had added to his embarrassment by checking his diaper several times. 'Chris?' Sonia asked again. 'Honey, I asked you if you were an adult.' Chris looked at her again. She saw how wet his eyes were,. 'I used to go to work,' Chris said. 'Yes, you did,' said Sonia. 'Were you an adult when you went to work?' 'Mmm,' Chris nodded. 'And when was that, Chris?' asked Sonia. 'Er, before... before, when I went to work,' he answered. Dates and times swirled in Chris's mind. He was having huge trouble sorting them out. As when he was trying to count the groups here, he had trouble. Frustrated, he had tried to count in his head from one to ten, but he had even struggled with that. He couldn't remember what came after six, then he remembered seven but got stuck again after that. He dared not say anything to Sonia about his difficulties. He knew he used to be able to recite the alphabet, but he didn't even want to attempt that. Like his continence, his ability with counting and he suspected, the alphabet, had seemed to evaporate without any reason for it. At least he'd stopped wetting, he realised. 'Are you an adult now, Chris?' Sonia asked him seriously. Chris looked back at her, his eyes pleading. Another girl emerged from the shed not far from the garden bench. Chris turned to look at her. She wasn't diapered either, and she moved confidently as she placed another coloured chair in the sun. Chris was very aware of his wet diaper. He looked back at Sonia's big breasts, and suddenly hugged her, pressing his face onto her chest as he began crying. He felt a great longing, although he wasn't sure what for. 'I don't know,' he sobbed. Sonia wanted so much at that moment to unbutton her white uniform, open the large nursing bra which it was her guilty secret to wear, and give poor Chris one of her breasts to suckle. There was no need for Sonia to wear a nursing bra, but she usually did. It made her feel better. The bra had been her secret at the Home until she'd had to change in front of some of the other girls and despite her efforts, her secret was out. She claimed that she had suffered some skin problems around her nipples, and the bra allowed her to apply topical treatment more easily. Most of the girls had accepted that, with only one of the similarly well endowed Group 1 girls giving her a knowing look and a smirk. 'It's OK, baby, it's OK,' Sonia consoled Chris, enjoying the proximity of his soft lips to her teats. They sat, with Sonia seriously reconsidering whether Chris was ready for the Teens. To be continued.

The Home Chapter 8 Once again, Chris waddled hand in hand with Sonia along the dark hallway. Chris was thinking. He recalled not long ago walking with another woman along a hallway. The woman was the state sales manager of the company Chris worked for. As they walked, Chris was explaining the strategy and marketing plan he had produced to revive one of the firm's slower selling products. They moved on to costings, and the sales manager suggested a good-sized budget to cover the program. Chris had felt very pleased, shook hands with the woman and went about the rest of the day's business in good spirits. Now, here he was, not too much later, walking along a hallway with another woman. They came to the Acivity Director's door and turned to enter another hallway. 'Still dry, Chris?' asked Sonia, interrupting his thoughts. Chris put his hand to the crotch of his shortalls and pressed the bulk between his legs. It felt perfectly dry. 'Yes,' he replied. 'Good boy!' responded Sonia. Chris grinned with pleasure. He often peed a little after a change, and he felt proud of himself. Then a dark cloud crossed his mind. He'd just been thinking how proud he was to have his marketing program funded, and now he was feeling exactly the same way about keeping his diaper dry for a few minutes. He was having trouble reconciling the two situations. He was a 38 year old man. OK, he didn't have a job any more, and he didn't drive like other adults, or wear a business suit, but... 'Hold on, Chris,' said Sonia as they reached a door at the end of the hall. 'I'll just tidy you up a bit.' Sonia turned Chris to face her, and adjusted the straps over his shoulders. Chris felt his diaper being pulled up tighter. 'There we are,' said Sonia. 'We don't want your diaper sagging under your bottom.' Chris felt the flattened bulk behind him, then put one hand to the taut cotton covering the smooth, bulging vee of his crotch. He had a mental picture of how he must look. That picture alternated in his mind with his image of himself dressed for work, in his well-cut suit and tie. He found it hard to make sense of the two images. He turned to Sonia, who smiled at him. 'You look very smart, honey,' she said. The words echoed exactly the same phrase Alice had used when Chris had dressed up a bit for a corporate photo. He felt better. If Sonia agreed with Alice, it must be good, he thought. I must look smart. Sonia brushed Chris's hair across his forehead. 'Your hair, honey. It's lovely but it's very long. In 4 the girls put their hair up or wear a ponytail or pigtails for safety. I think I've got a rubber band here somewhere,' Sonia said, fishing around in a pocket. 'Here it is. Stand still.' Chris stood as Sonia gathered his hair back and created a wavy blonde pony tail. From habit, she set it a little higher on the back of Chris's head than the usual male ponytail, but she was pleased with the result. 'I'd like to put a nice ribbon around that,' she said, 'But you'd probably say "I'm a boy"', she told Chris with a laugh. 'I am a boy,' said Chris, but the phrase sounded oddly irrelevant. He had just been changed along with a girl into the same diapers and was wearing the same clothing, thought Chris. There was nothing much male about Chris at the moment but his bare little genitals, thickly covered by his diaper. Chris put his hand to his crotch again. All he felt was the smooth front of his shortalls, stretching over his diaper. He couldn't feel his private parts at all. The door opened and a young woman emerged. She was dressed in dusty dark blue overalls, and her boyishly cut brown hair framed a friendly, freckled face with minimal makeup. 'Hi Sonia,' said the woman. She looked at Chris and smiled. 'Here's a pretty new face,' she said. 'Who's this little sweetie, Sonia?' 'This is Chris,' said Sonia. 'Chris, this is Terri. She's a nurse, in spite of the workman's clothing. She'll be looking after you in group 4 with Angela.' Terri gave Sonia a brief, questioning look. 'Well, I'm sure she'll make some new friends there,' she said. 'I must rush,' she added to Sonia. 'Bye Chris!' she said, smiling again at him and headed along the hall. 'She said she,' complained Chris, looking at Sonia. 'Oh, she just made a mistake,' said Sonia. 'But you would make a very pretty little girl, just as easily as a handsome little boy.' 'I'm not little,' objected Chris, though he had to look up at Sonia as he said it. Sonia opened the door to the bright light of the outdoors, and Chris forgot his complaints as he looked around the Home's spacious rear garden. Apart from some play equipment on the wide lawn, he saw a brightly painted shed. Two girls in paint-splattered shortalls were carrying painted chairs out of the shed, and setting them in rows on the sunny lawn. The girls looked up as Sonia led Chris towards the shed. 'Group 4,' announced Sonia as they got closer. To be continued.