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SallyKAT

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Posts posted by SallyKAT

  1. ‘Former executive’ in quotes, ABAlex. The sort of title given to staff to justify their high charge out rate, or to keep them on board: ‘senior consultant’ or even ‘executive consultant’. I know a sole proprietor who describes himself as ‘managing director’. 

  2. ‘Now?’

    Chapter 1 (part)

    ‘Now?’ asked Chris, looking anxiously at his wife and simultaneously feeling a small, nervous spurt of pee escape into his adult pull-ups. ‘You didn’t say anything about that.’

    ’No, I didn’t,’ replied Anthea. ‘I’m actually quite busy, and I honestly don’t see the need to keep you informed of everything in my diary.’

    Anthea spoke without taking her attractively made up eyes from the road. She looked like what she was - the house legal counsel for a large software developer. Her husband’s former employer. 

    Chris turned and looked again at his wife as she drove her smart European coupe out of the mall car park, towards not home but some unknown destination where Chris would have to endure another ‘expert’ peering into the details of his life. His life now, thought Chris miserably, not his life then. He moved his hips to get comfortable on the slippery leather of the car seat. He wet slightly again, and knew by feel that his various little leaks that morning had added up to a wet pull-up that now needed changing. Chris felt the familiar, rising sense of feeling sorry for himself and also needing help from Anthea. 

    Anthea had a sixth sense about the condition of Chris’s underclothing, whether it was the pull-ups he wore for trips out, or the disposable diapers he wore at night. With the briefest glance in Chris’s direction, she asked him if he needed changing. 

    ‘Yes,’ said Chris quietly, catching his breath as he attempted to stifle a sob. 

    He couldn’t help it sometimes. Anthea was so perfect compared to him. She had a big job and was the breadwinner. She had lots of colleagues and friends, while Chris’s world and contacts had shrunk to home, Anthea and the few people who knew the couple well enough to know about Chris’s condition. He wasn’t even sure some of the people Anthea dealt with knew she was married. 

    ‘You can change when we get there,’ said Anthea. 

    Chris looked down at the familiar blue bag at his feet in the carpeted footwell. It was a diaper bag, like mothers had for their babies and toddlers. But it was his diaper bag. He knew what was in it. Two or three pull-ups, a couple of disposables, plastic pants, horrible, embarrassing smelling talc, plus wipes and a few creams. There would also be a change of outer pants for Chris, whatever Anthea had chosen for him. 

    He hadn’t chosen what he wore for so long now, Chris thought. He looked down over the denim bib of his shortfalls to the slight bulge in the vee of his crotch, where the stitching of the fake fly curved down between his legs. He didn’t even look male any more down there, he thought, and his feelings of self pity and need overcame him. He released the remainder of his pee into his pull-up and gave way to the sobbing he’d tried to suppress. He reached across the car and clutched a handful of his wife’s expensive woollen skirt, feeling the slippery layers of satin lining and Anthea’s pantyhose beneath. 

    ‘Oh, honey, please,’ said Anthea, carefully prising Chris’s fingers from her skirt but still holding his hand. ‘We haven’t got time for this.’

    Chris knew she meant she didn’t have time for this. Chris had lots of time. It wasn’t really his time, though. Not now. Now, Anthea usually decided how Chris would spend his time. He was 27 years old, a ‘former executive’ even if he had trouble now remembering what he actually did, and now his wife decided how he spent his time. And what he wore. He knew his shortalls were practical. They stopped wet pull-ups from sagging, they were comfortable and easy to get in and out of. Chris had objected to them at first as too childish, but Anthea said he’d get used to them. Which he did. He’d learned that there was no point arguing with Anthea.

     

    back soon

     


     

     

    • Like 9
  3. Chris and June  Chapter 4

    Chris sat quietly as they drove home. 

    As they approached their local group of shops,  June slowed and pulled into a park.

    'I won't be long, honey,' she told Chris as she opened her door and got out. 

    'OK,' said Chris.

    He looked down at the crotch of his borrowed pale blue pants. He'd really wet himself. He lifted his bottom from the seat and felt his backside. He was soaked. He wondered how he had still had so much in his bladder, after wetting earlier

    'Wetting earlier,' he thought. That applied to him. he'd wet the bed last night, and this was his second wetting today. It wasn't fair, he thought. Why was this happening to him?

    June arrived back to the car, and opened a rear door to put on the seat a large package in a plastic bag. 

    'What have you bought?' asked Chris.

    'Something to help you, honey.' replied June.

    'Not, you know, those things,' asked Chris.

    June sighed.

    'If you mean protective panties, then yes, that's what I bought,' said June.

    'But June...' began Chris.

    'Chris,' said June firmly. 'You no longer have good bladder control, despite all your excuses about 'accidents''. I told you that Sally thinks you should already be wearing protection, and she's right. I won't have you embarrassing yourself, and me, by wetting your pants in public. I think it's time I took charge here, and helped you cope with what's happening to you.'  

    'You said Sally said only at night...' objected Chris. 

    'Chris, please,' said June. 'You have a problem, although you don't seem to want to deal with it. Well it's my problem too, and I am going to deal with it. I am now in charge of what you wear, OK? At night and during the day. If I had a young child with the same issues, I'd do the same thing. I should have done this some time ago. No arguments, please Chris. I am now in charge of what you wear. Full stop. No arguments. OK?'

    Chris was now crying again.

    'For heavens' sake,' said June. 'You wet the bed last night, you've wet twice today, and I think it's likely you'll wet the bed again tonight. I think you have to accept that you need diapers, Chris.'

    'I don't want diapers!' Chris almost shouted, looking fiercely at June with his bottom lip quivering and tears coursing down his cheeks. 

    He felt a surge of wet warmth in his pants, and his expression changed to a look of pleading hopelessness.

    'Oh baby,' said June, 'I know it's not what you want, but it's what you need. You need help with this, and I'm here to help. I love you no matter what, baby, you know that.'

    June leant over and kissed Chris's wet, salty cheek. 

    Chris calmed down, and looked out the window as June drove off again. He watched a mother and her two children walking along the side of the road. The older child, about five or six, was wearing jeans. His younger sister was clearly diapered, and waddled along in her bulky pants, holding her mother's hand. I'm just like her, Chris thought miserably, and had to catch and hold his breath for a moment to avoid sobbing.

    They arrived home. Chris sat quietly, absorbed in his thoughts. 

    'Out you get, honey,' said June, who had got out and come around to Chris's door.

    Chris climbed out of the car. He stood in his soaked pants, feeling the wet fabric cold against his legs. He reached out and took June's hand. She glanced at his fingers curled around hers and thought for a moment, then gave his fingers a squeeze. Chris followed her around to the other side of the car where with her free hand she opened the back door of the car, reached in to pick up the bulky plastic bag. 

    Chris clutched June's hand as she opened the front door and they walked inside.

    'I think you need a shower, sweetie,' she said. 'Off you go. I'll see you in the bedroom.'

    Chris walked to the bathroom. He looked at himself in the big mirror there. He saw a slightly built man with shiny, shoulder length blonde hair and red eyes, wearing very wet and quite tight pale blue track pants with a soaked, dark blue crotch. He felt the warm wetness once more and the dark blue began to extend down the inside of each leg. He couldn't stop the flow. 

    Sobbing again, Chris hurriedly kicked off his borrowed pink shoes and pulled down his wet pants. He felt himself stop peeing, and looked again in the mirror. His big, white panties were translucent in front, and he could see the outline of his genitals beneath the expanse of wet fabric. With his smooth legs and long hair, he didn't even look particularly male. He thought of the little girl in her diaper. 

    Stopping that train of thought, he took the panties off and pulled the blue top over his head. He piled the wet clothes onto the chair in the bathoom and got into the shower. Thankfully, that felt normal. 

    He was giving himself a good, soapy wash when he heard June come in.

    'All good, honey?' she asked. 'A shower should make you feel better. All nice and clean.'

    'Yeah,' said Chris from the shower cubicle. He saw June pick up the wet clothes.

    'I'll put these in the wash,' said June as she left the room.

    Chris felt a surge of gratitude for his wife. He just wanted to hug her.

    Chris spent a few minutes washing his hair. He emerged from the shower and wrapped himself in a towel.

    He thought for a moment before heading to the bedroom. He wasn't sure what he would find in there, but he was glad June was there, not anyone else. My life is changing, he thought, and felt the tears rising again. 

    In the bedroom, June was sitting on the bed, next to a large plastic package.

    Chris stared at the package. He felt this was happening to someone else, that he was just an observer. 

    June smiled at him. 

    'Come here, honey.' she said. 

    Chris approached her and she reached up and sat Chris on the bed next to her. 

    'Honey, you need some help,' she said. 'You need to face what's happening to you.'

    Chris nodded. He was doing his best. 

    'And I'm here to help,' said June, helping Chris up and removing his towel. 

    Chris stood quietly, naked in front of June as she opened the big package and pulled out something white, folded and padded.

    'These go on just like ordinary underwear,' said June.

    Chris looked at the plastic bag. There was still something big inside it. Two packets of these things, he thought. How long does she think I'll need them for, he asked himself.  

    'Leg in,' said June, and Chris saw her holding out the padded pullup for him to step into. 

    At least I didn't have to lie down and be changed like a baby, he thought.

    'There you are,' said June. 'How do they feel?'

    She sounds so normal, thought Chris. She's making me wear padded panties like a little kid who wets himself, and she's talking as if it's just a new pair of pants.

    'OK,' replied Chris. 

    The pants actually felt warm and comfortable. They were a bit like the panties he'd just taken off. They covered his whole backside and most of his tummy too as June pulled them up to his waist. 

    Chris put his hand to the back of the pants and felt the padding there. They were padded in front, too, he could feel. He looked down and could hardly make out the little bump of his dick and balls beneath the white padding.  

    Chris turned from June and was about to go to the chest of drawers to get some jeans. 

    'I've got pants for you to wear, Chris,' said June.

    'I was getting a pair of jeans,' said Chris. 

    He wanted something a bit adult, not just track pants. At least something with a fly.   

    'I think these will be better,' said June, holding up a pair of Chris's grey track pants. 

    'But jeans...' said Chris.

    'No,' said June. 'I'd rather you wear these.'

    'I'm in charge of what you wear,' he heard June's voice in his head

    The reality of what was happening was starting to close in on him, and he nodded.

    'OK,' he said quietly.

    'Good boy,' said June, holding out the track pants.

    He put in one leg after the other, and June pulled the pants up.

    'Now your top,' said June.

    Dressed in his grey track pants and top, Chris stood quietly as June brushed his hair. She did that sometimes. She always said Chris had such lovely hair. He liked the way it looked, too, and was glad that he could let it grow a bit now that he wasn't at the office any more. 

    'It's falling over your face,' said June, 'You need bangs,' she added with a laugh.   

    'No!' said Chris.

    'Well a pony tail, then,' said June. 'It's nearly long enough.'

    'It's ok, said Chris.

    At least the subject of his hair took his mind off what he was wearing. He turned around, and felt again the padding between his legs. He craned his head around to look at himself in the mirror. . 

    June patted his padded rump.

    'No one will even notice,' she said. 'And if you have an accident, just tell me and I'll fix it. That must make you feel better, honey.'

    Chris swallowed. His wife had just put him in a diaper, or whatever this was called, and she says it will make him feel better. He looked at June.

    'It's a, a diaper,' he said unhappily.

    'It's a pullup, honey. Lots of people wear them - other than toddlers, I mean,' she said. 

    'It's still a...' Chris began.

    'Chris please,' said June. 'You are wearing what you need to wear. I'm very proud of the way you're dealing with this and Sally will be too. Now let's go and have a nice hot drink.'

    'OK,' said Chris, and followed June out to the kitchen.

    He still felt a little disconnected, as if this were happening to someone else. He was an adult, June's husband, and she had just diapered him or pulluped him at least. On the other hand, he felt a sense of security now. If he did have an accident, it wouldn't be a full on pants-wetting accident. I'll just change my pullup, he thought. 'My pullup,' he thought again. This is really happening.

    He looked at June in her tight jeans, blouse and sweater. She also had on panties, a bra, and pantyhose and shoes, he thought. Adult clothing. I've got a pullup, pants and a top, he thought, and not even any shoes. Like a toddler.   

    June made two cups of coffee and set one down in front of Chris. Seated as he was, June's denim-clad crotch was at his eye level as she gave him his coffee. He looked at the swell of her pubic mound under the tight denim. She could dress like that because she never wet her pants, because she was an adult, Chris thought. She didn't need a pullup because she was an adult. He needed one because he was, well, different. He tried telling himself 'I'm an adult too',; but it didn't ring true. He couldn't get the idea out of his head that somehow he was losing his adult status. What's happening to me, he asked himself..All he got in reply were confused images and feelings of wetting his pants, and cuddling June. 

    To be continued.      

     

     

       

     

     

     

    • Like 3
  4. Thanks Mugi. I tried to write more of the story this morning but it seems I need to be in better physical shape, ie not hung over, to write anything useful. 

    The car will sell. It's not a bad vehicle. (See ad above ha ha). If it doesn't sell I'd like to grow vegetables in it. I wouldn't, much as I'd like to, because doing that would finish the old gal for good. The body's aluminium but the chassis and bodyframe are steel, and probably crap steel as well, considering. The result is going to be terminal rust. 

    Anyway, other than ancient cars (mine's a 1957 Land Rover that's turned me into a reluctant mechanic) I have other fish to fry, as they say. I need a decent drug free (alcohol mainly) sleep then I'll try another chapter. Maybe I zapped the creative bits of my brain. Night all. 

  5. Chris and June  Chapter

     

    For the rest of the drive home the car was quiet. Only Chris's worried sniffles and June's occasional sigh, both quite audible above the dull rumble of the 4 cylinder traditional diesel. Not bad considering the age of the vehicle which is general in good shape - nice paintwork (depending on taste), clean interior, four good Cooper tyres, Gen 234783 kms all books. Ph Sal on 2584 3859 4652 Ask for a 'little' discount.

    Hey! What about it?

    i'm drunk. And in charge of a keyboard! Sorry I can't give you my real number. 

    This is getting difficult. 

    To bed. Fix this in the morning. 

     

     

    Xxxxx

     

     

     

     

    • Haha 1
  6. Chris and June  Chapter 3

    Chris was almost beside himself with embarrassment as he stood in front of the toilet and lifted his legs in turn as Hilda pulled his wet track pants off, followed by his soaked underpants. She smelled of some old fashioned perfume, like his grandma, and Chris tried to focus on that. 

    'Has this happened before, Chris?' Hilda asked as she took off his wet runners and sodden socks. 

    'Not really,' said Chris. 'I mean not as much.'

    Hilda looked concerned. 

    'So you do wet your pants sometimes,' she said. 

    'No,' said Chris. 'I mean just a bit, you know, dribbles sometimes. Like everyone.'

    'I see,' said Hilda thoughtfully.  

    'Does your wife carry spare clothing for you?' she asked. 

    'No,' said Chris, and paused to think. 'What am I going to wear?'

    'I'll find something,' said Hilda. 'This is a clothing department,' she added with with a smile and a brief, tinkling laugh. 'You pop up here and sit tight for a minute. I'll find something nice for you.'

    Hilda helped Chris onto a low bench covered in thin, white vinyl padding. He sat there, naked from the waist down. He could just touch the cold floor with his toes. 

    'June will pay for it,' he said as Hilda opened the door and left the room. 

    'Don't worry about that,' he heard her call from the corridor. 

    As Chris sat waiting, the full import of what was happening seemed to engulf him. He was an adult, 31 years old, and he'd wet his pants like a toddler, in a department store. Now an older woman was going to change him into dry clothes. It was so bad. He just wanted to be home with June. Where was she, he thought. He couldn't help the tears of self pity that coursed down his cheeks. He wanted June. 

    'Hey, honey,' he heard his wife say. 

    Chris looked up and saw June in the doorway. He grinned through his tears and put out his arms, nearly overbalancing and falling forwards off the bench. 

    'Careful!' said June, walking towards him. 

    As soon as she was close enough, he wrapped his arms around her torso and buried his face in her breasts. His tears redoubled. 

    'I didn't mean to,' he wailed. 

    June held him to her, stroking his blonde hair. 

    'It's OK, honey. I'm here. Everything's all right. It's just a pair of wet pants. It's OK. Shhh, honey, shhh,' she said. 

    'She's, she's gone to get some clothes,' Chris said haltingly. 'I said you'd pay.'

    'Good boy,' said June, still stroking Chris's hair. 'You don't need to worry about that. Here she is.'

    Hilda arrived with a store marked plastic bag.

    'Hello,' she said pleasantly to June. 'Hilda Jessup.'

    'I'm June,' said June, 'And you know Chris.'

    'Pleased to meet you,' Hilda replied. 'Yes, Chris and I are already friends.'

    June had set Chris back on the bench. 

    'Aren't we, Chris?' asked Hilda, tousling Chris's hair. 

    Chris had stopped crying, and now sat quietly, still embarrassed. 

    'It's a women's department, but there's a girls section too. He's not overly big, so I found some pants that should fit. I've got some panties too. I didn't know if he usually wears protection. I could go over to the chemist department, but I thought I'd better get back here.'

    'I don't wear any protection,' said Chris, recovering himself somewhat and emphasising the word 'protection'. 

    Neither woman said anything in response, but June put her hand gently on Chris's bare thigh. 

    'I'm sure the pants will be fine,' said June. 'Thanks so much, Hilda, you're a godsend.'

    'Years of practice,' said Hilda. 'All of mine were late potty trainers.'

    Chris resented the clear implication that he wasn't potty trained. 

    'I'm not...' he began. 

    'Shhh honey,' said June, patting his leg. 'Let's just get you fixed up.'

    'is this an isolated event?' Hilda asked, directing her question at June. 

    'Well,' began June. 

    'June!' said Chris angrily, and gave her such a glaring look that she thought better of voicing to Hilda her doubts about her husband's daytime continence. 

    'Well, he's begun wetting the bed,' said June. 

    'I don't wet the bed!' Chris retorted. 'I've just had some accidents.'

    'Hey,' said Hilda. 'It's nothing to get upset about. Just let us make you nice and dry and comfortable, OK'

    Chris fell silent. He wasn't happy. It seemed that June and Hilda were talking to each other and leaving him out. He was suddenly aware of his exposed penis, and put his hands over his groin. The sooner he got some pants on the better, whatever sort of pants they were. 

    'Just lie back for a moment,' said Hilda, helping Chris swing his legs up onto the bench. 

    Chris lay back and looked at June.

    'Its OK, honey,' said June. 

    Hilda opened the bag and put a pair of pale blue pants on the bench next to Chris together with a pair of white full briefs and a small washcloth. She went to the handbasin on the wall and returned with the warm, wet washcloth. 

    'This will make him more comfortable,' she said to June, holding the cloth towards her. 

    'Thanks, Hilda,' said June. 'You are thoughtful.'

    June took the washcloth and began gently to wipe Chris's crotch, carefully wiping his penis and testes. Chris lay quietly with his eyes tight shut. 

    'Just to finish the job,' said Hilda, and gave June a small plastic container of baby talc. 

    Chris screwed his eyes shut even tighter as he felt June sprinkle the cold powder over and around his genitals. He knew what mothers did to babies before diapering them. Surely Hilda didn't have a diaper with her, he thought with dread. 

    'Good,' said Hilda. 'Now, young man, bottom up please.'

    'Oh God,' thought Chris. 'This has to be the worst day of my life.'

    Hilda looked with interest at Chris's small, powder covered penis lying flaccid on his little wrinkled scrotum. His skin was smooth and soft and he appeared to have no pubic hair, then Hilda noticed the fine blonde hairs on the powdered skin. She couldn't help thinking of her Fred's thick 'weapon' as he called it, surrounded by its forest of wiry black hair. 

    Hilda slipped the panties over Chris's feet and pulled them up his legs, then tugged them up to his waist. 

    'They're just like boy's pants, only a bit bigger,' she told him. 'How does that feel?'

    'OK,' said Chris. 

    His whole bottom felt encased in fabric, and he put his hand over his tummy. His fingers felt thin, smooth fabric right up to his belly button. 

    'Nearly finished, sweetie,' said Hilda. 'Just swing your legs back down.'

    Chris complied, and put his legs into the blue pants as Hilda held the waist open. 

    The pants were high waisted too, like the panties, and Chris was surprised to find them very comfortable. He stood waiting, running his hands over the soft blue cloth. The pants were like his track pants, smooth all round with no fly, but with a wide, lumpy elasticated band around the waist. 

    'Last of all,' said Hilda, producing from the bag a pair of pink sandshoes with coloured laces. 

    'It's a good thing his feet are small,' said Hilda. 'I think these will fit. No plain socks, I'm afraid Chris.'

    Chris held out his feet. He didn't care that for the second time that day hevwas being dressed. He just wanted to go home. And he was very happy Hilda hadn't produced any 'protection'. He was dry and comfortable and began to feel like an adult male again, even if he was wearing pink trimmed socks and pink shoes. 

    'He has lovely hair,' remarked Hilda as Chris stood up.

    June reached out and pushed Chris's blonde hair across his forehead. 

    'It's getting long, though. Chris stopped working a while ago and it's just grown.'

    'it really needs a good brush,' said Hilda.

    'He won't let me touch it, will you darling?' Said June, smiling at Chris. 

    'It's fine,' said Chris.

    The women smiled st each other. 

    'Well,' said June, as Hilda carefully packed Chris's wet clothes and shoes into the bag and gave it to her. 'I can't thank you enough for all your help. What do you say, Chris?' she asked him, giving him a little nudge. 

    'Thank you, erm, Hilda, for all the help,' said Chris. 

    'Don't mention it,' said Hilda. 'It was a pleasure to meet you both, even under these circumstances.'

    'I'll pay you for Chris's things,' said June. 

    'No rush,' said Hilda with a laugh. 'We've still got to finish your fitting. You can do all that then.'

    'Of course,' replied June. 'I'll see you later in the week. And if I bring Chris, I'll make sure he's better prepared.'

    Hilda smiled. 

    'You look lovely, Chris,' she said as they parted at the shop end of the long corridor. 

    'Thank you,' Chris muttered. Hilda smiled again as she watched the pair walk towards the entrance. He really did look lovely, she thought. What a pity to waste such smooth skin and beautiful hair on a boy!

    As they walked towards the big glass doors, two boisterous young men in their twenties approached from the car park, laughing and jostling each other. They were wearing tight charcoal jeans and one had a black t shirt with a Jim Beam logo on it. They both had tattoos on their bare, muscular arms. Chris knew the type. He'd endured plenty of them when he was at school. He reached out for June's hand and was relieved when she took his fingers in hers. 

    The young men stood aside as June and Chris went through the doors. One of them bent low and made a wide flourish with his arm, as if to usher them through. One of them was looking at June's tight jeans, but the other, the usherer, gave Chris a very strange grin. It was a look he'd never had before, and it made him feel quite uncomfortable. He gripped June's hand more tightly and looked straight ahead, ignoring the young man and whatever he said to his friend as he and June walked away towards the car.. 

    Chris just wanted to get home. 

    In the car, June asked Chris if he was OK. Sitting in the familiar environment of the car, with June, Chris began again to feel overwhelmed about what had happened in the mall. 

    He swallowed hard and turned to June as she settled in her seat and put the key in the ignition. 

    'June,' he said, his voice quavering. 

    'Honey, we'll talk about it later,' June told him. ' You're fine now. We can still go to the park, remember? Josie will be there.'

    'Yes, but,' said Chris, 'in the store, it was, it was...'

    'Shh, honey,' said June. 'It was an accident. But we really should think about what you wear when you go to unfamiliar places.'

    'No!' said Chris emphatically. 'I'm not wearing those things. I'm not!'

    'Chris,' said June, 'It's not just about what you want. It's what's best for you. Sally thinks you should be wearing something at night now, for a start. What happened today should...'

    'No!' said Chris, 'No, no no!'

    'Chris,' said June gently. 

    'Shut up!' said Chris, beginning to cry. 

    June stepped on the brake and pulled the car to the side of the road. 

    'Chris, I will not have you talk to me like that, OK? I'm your wife and Sally's your doctor. We are both concerned about you and we both want what's best for you. Now I don't want to talk about this now, but I'm going to make an appointment to see Sally. After what happened today, and with your history, I think we need to make some changes in how we manage things.'

    'My history?' said Chris, looking fearfully at June and wiping tears from his cheek. He felt his heart leap into his throat.

    'Yes,' said June. 'Some time ago, I had a long talk with your mother. We're both worried about you, but hoped things would clear up. Your sisters are very concerned too.'

    'You've talked to them too?' asked Chris. 

    Chris stared at the cars going past on the road. Everything seemed distant. He felt a strange disconnection to what was going on around him, even things that involved him very much. June had talked to his mother, and to his sisters. She knew about his bedwetting, his night time diapers, and probably the diapers he wore on trips. She'd talked to Sally about 'protection'. But he hadn't heard a word of it. It was like, like they were adults and he was still a, a... he didn't even want to think the word. 

    'Yes, I have, Chris,' said June. 'And I expect you to be grown up and adult about this.'

    'I am grown up!' said Chris, through a fresh flood of tears. 'I am an adult!'

    'Are you Chris?' replied June. 'Are you? Sometimes I wonder. I really do.'

    Chris felt a flood of warmth spreading between his legs. He caught his breath, and thrust his hands into his crotch. He looked across at June and began to cry in earnest. 

    June saw the look on Chris's face and glanced down at his fists surrounded by darkening blue. Her feelings welled up. 

    'Baby,' she said, leaning over and kissing him. 

     

    To be continued.

     

     

     

     

    • Like 3
  7. Chris and June  Chapter 2

    Chris stripped off in the bathroom. It didn't take long. He only had to take off his tracksuit top and bottom, and his underpants. He went barefoot in the house these days. The garden was mostly lawn, so he went barefoot outside too. June had suggested his not wearing shoes, and Chris enjoyed the free feeling. It was like when he was a kid.

    He'd thought about those times often lately. Then he'd had no business cataclysms to worry about and no real cares at all. His mum had done all the worrying for him. Chris's dad had died soon after he was born, so there was only his mum and his two older sisters. His mother had never remarried.

    Childhood had been a very happy time for Chris, happier than he'd been since, he sometimes thought wistfully. He recalled a recent time - not that morning, but the time before, when he'd woken up and realised that he'd wet the bed again. It was before June had put the waterproof sheet on the mattress. June was still asleep, and Chris was feeling quite upset about wetting again. He'd even closed his eyes and wished he could have woken up years younger. He was actually 'a bedwetter' once, not that June knew. He'd wet the bed regularly until he was about twelve. He'd been terrified that it would never go away, as his mother and sisters, who between them helped him with the thick diaper he had to put on at bedtime every night, assured him it would.

    Bedwetting was the only blot on his childhood that he could remember, and even that eventually became just a part of his life. He remembered actually missing being diapered every night when the problem finally disappeared, although for months after that he had gone to bed worried that it might return. but it never did. Until the Big Crash.

    He slid off his underpants. The crotch was quite damp between his fingers. It usually was at the end of the day, but that was to be expected, he told himself. Men didn't wipe like women did, and he urinated about three times a day, and he sometimes trickled a tiny bit afterwards. So a bit of dampness there was to be expected. No one ever mentioned it because it was so private.

    The warm water from the shower felt great, and Chris stood under the stream, enjoying the feeling of the water splashing onto his head and shoulders and running down over his body. He looked down at his genitals as he massaged his loins with soap. He'd never been over hairy, and his blonde hair didn't show much against his skin anyway, but he'd always wanted more pubic hair. He only had a few light wisps. June had dark brown hair, almost black, and her pubic hair was a big triangular mat of thick dark hair. She had to keep it trimmed in summer so it didn't poke out from her bikini. He saw her bikini'd crotch in his imagination. Even the female bulge in her bikini bottom looked bigger than the little male bump in Chris's bathing gear. He'd worn speedos to the pool just once, and since then had worn loose, dark coloured boxer style pants to go swimming. Having almost no pubic hair was bad enough, but not having a great big porn style dick and balls was worse. He'd heard June and Josie discussing shaved pubic areas once. June had laughed and said she wondered why women did it. It was weird, she said, and made them look like little girls. That had shocked Chris a little. What must she think of him, he thought.

    To make matters worse, Chris thought as he looked down at the modest penis between his soapy fingers,  he wasn't over endowed, either. He'd seen the odd porn image of men with huge penises, and had thought they were retouched images until he and June had been to a party where everyone had stripped off for a group skinny dip in a big jacuzzi. Chris had returned to the patio where the spa tub was with a tray of drinks, and had seen properly for the first time some of his male friends naked as they clambered into the tub. He'd always been shy and in locker rooms had changed quickly, never used communal showers and certainly never looked at any other guys' equipment. He was definitely not that way inclined. He'd handed out the drinks and come up with an excuse for not getting into the spa.

    He'd awkwardly brought up the subject of male size with June once, and she'd laughed and said he was quality not quantity. if that was what he was worried about. They didn't have sex all that regularly, and when they did, he often slipped out, but June's gentle fingers were always there to put him back in. He'd read somewhere that all guys were the same size during sex, and he had a vague idea that maybe the larger guys got smaller and the smaller ones got larger. He hadn't had any sexual partners other than June, but he knew she'd had others beside him. He was reluctant to ask her about those and she certainly never mentioned them. It wasn't a problem, anyway. They gave each other plenty of physical affection 

    Although they didn't have actual sex all that much, they were often intimate in other ways. June liked other kinds of loving just as much. She liked Chris giving her oral sex, and loved him sucking her breasts. That suited Chris. He enjoyed those things too, so not having much penetrative sex wasn't so bad. Chris wasn't sure if June had noticed, but he didn't get hard now as much as he used to. Dr Sally had mentioned that briefly in a chat with him. It was apparently something that was fairly common when guys were under as much stress as he'd been. 

    Chris heard the bathroom door open. He knew he'd been standing under the shower for ages, but he had a lot to think about. She's going to tell me to hurry up, he thought. 

    'Honey, are you going to stay in there all day? I want to get moving. Out you get!' said June.

    'I'll just wash the soap off!'' replied Chris.   

    June was in the room now.

    'These are clean, you can just put these back on,' she said, picking up Chris's tracksuit. 'I've got your shoes,' she added, putting Chris's runners on the floor next to the chair his tracksuit was draped over.

    Chris rubbed his genitals under the stream of water. He felt relatively cool water coursing over his fingers and realised he was peeing. It gave him a start, and his first thought was that it was a pity he couldn't just pee automatically like that all the time, until he thought that through with some embarrassment. He stopped peeing a few moments later, gave his penis and scrotum another rinse and emerged into the steamy bathroom.   

    June was holding up a towel for him and wrapped him in it as he stepped from the shower. 

    'I can do it!' Chris said as June briskly dried him.   

    'Just as quick if I do,' said June. 'There,' she added. 'Done. Your hair can dry itself.'

    June looked around for Chris's underpants.

    'Where are your undies, Chris?' she asked.

    When he saw the damp crotch on his underpants, Chris had done a little preemptive damage control and washed them as he showered.

    'On the tap,' he replied and retrieved the wet underpants. 'I washed them,' 

    June looked at the wet cotton in Chris's hand.

    'They were clean this morning,' she said, a little confused.

    'Yeah, well,' said Chris.

    'Did you wet them?' June asked, looking directly at Chris.

    'No,' said Chris, feeling the blood rush to his face. 'I just, erm, washed them.'

    'Put them in the laundry basket,' said June. 'Put your top on and I'll get another pair.'

    Chris did as he was told while June went to the bedroom and opened Chris's underpants drawer. She wondered about the wet underpants. She didn't believe him. He probably had wet his pants. Sally had told her that may happen. She had suggested a kind of adult training panty for Chris if it did become an issue, and June had wondered if it would ever come to that. She thought of Chris wearing juvenile training pants and found it an oddly attractive thought. 

    She returned to the bathroom and held out the fresh underpants for Chris.

    'I can dress myself!' said Chris.

    'Just step in,' said June. 'I haven't got time to argue.'

    Chris put one leg then the other into the white cotton pants and June pulled them up around his waist, tighter than he would have. Before he could object, June had the track pants in her hands and instructed Chris to do the same with them. She pulled those up too. Chris ran his hand over the front of the track pants. His genitals made a little bump there. June pulled down his top as Chris moved his legs around to loosen up the inner and outer pants.

    'Shoes and socks!' said June as Chris sat on the chair. She grabbed one of Chris's feet and slid a sock over it.

    'June, I can get dressed by myself!' said Chris as June grabbed his other foot.

    'Of course you can, honey, but we're running late, and besides, I like dressing my little boy!'' replied June and planted a kiss on his forehead.

    Chris groaned. He loved June dearly, but she had some odd traits. Not so long ago, when they'd been watching TV together on the sofa, Chris had snuggled up to June as he often did. To his surprise, she'd pulled up her top, loosened her bra and pulled that up, then guided Chris's lips to her nipple. He was tired and hadn't objected. Besides, he loved sucking her breasts, with his face against the soft globe of flesh. He'd fallen asleep there and woke later to find he'd dribbled saliva all over his wife's breast. He'd apologised, but June didn't see to mind. In fact, she'd been super cuddly and sensual that night all the way to bed and until Chris had finally fallen asleep. She was hard to work out sometimes, he'd decided.    

    A few minutes later, they were in June's SUV, heading for the mall. Chris felt a bit underdressed. June looked stunning with her hair neatly piled at the back of her head and her face made up. She'd swapped her t shirt for a loose, cream satiny blouse tied at the midriff above the tight designer jeans that made the most of her curves. She had a fancy leather belt on and looked, in a word, hot. At 32, she would qualify as a MILF, Chris thought. He'd only recently learned the acronym, and June definitely was one, despite having no child in tow. 

    They parked and got out of the car.

    'I'll just go and have a look at the mowers,'  said Chris. 'Could we met back here?'

    'Oh no you don't,' said June, reaching out and grabbing Chris's hand. 'That doesn't work. Remember last time? You were looking at hammer drills, and 'meet in twenty minutes' turned into me having to spend another twenty looking for you.'

    'I was just a bit late getting back to the car,' said Chris. 'I had to wait for you then.'

    'Exactly what I mean.' said June. 'A mess. You're staying with me. We're going to the department next to the toys. You can look at those, as long as you don't wander off.' 

    Chris felt hard done by.

    'I won't wander off,' he said crossly, and tried to tug his hand from June's grip. In return she tightened her fingers around his. Chris gave up.

    'I'm too old to look at the toys,' he added grumpily.

    'Oh?' said June as she strode off towards the shops, Chris having to hurry along beside her. 'Who got very excited when his mum delivered his old train set from her garage cleanout, and set it up in the spare bedroom?'

    'That's different,' said Chris. 

    'So, you can look at the trains,' said June.

    Chris had learned that there was no point arguing with June when she had shopping to do. Or at any time, he thought glumly. 

    They went through the big glass doors into the air conditioned coolness of the mall. June was still hurrying along, with Chris trying to keep up. A mother walked towards them on their way to the doors dragging a boy of about 4, dressed as Chris was, in the same colour stretchy tracksuit and wearing blue runners like Chris. An older woman walking towards June and Chris smiled, clearly in their direction, Chris was suddenly conscious of holding June's hand and hoped they looked like just another affectionate couple. He looked back at the smiling woman,  just as June said 'Keep up, sweetie!' and he had to quicken his pace. He caught the approaching woman's eyes for long enough to see her, still smiling, raise her eyebrows and her smile turn into something of a smirk. Chris doubled his efforts to look like the loving husband shopping with his wife. Which was exactly the case, he told himself.  

    They were at the entrance of the department store, and Chris followed June around the fixtures until they reached the lingerie section. They' went down a long aisle and were met by a matronly woman in a black skirt and a white blouse stretched over her large breasts. Chris's natural interest in breasts had intensified recently, and he often found himself staring at bra ads and also at live examples. He could make out the lace pattern of the saleslady's oversized cups beneath the thin white fabric. He imagined with pleasure the large, soft breasts constrained within. 

    'Now you can go an look at the toys, honey,' said June, releasing Chris's hand. 'But I want you back here in ten minutes, OK? Off you go.' 

    Chris blushed hotly as the saleslady smiled at him. He felt as though she were indulging him somehow. It made him feel like a child. He gave the lady a quick glance and left as quickly as he could.

    'Boys,' said the saleslady smiling at June. 'Can I help you?'

    'He's my husband,' said June, feeling slightly defensive of Chris. 

    'Same thing,' said the saleslady, 'Hilda'' according to her name badge. 'I've had four myself.' 

    'Husbands?' asked June, whose mind was whirling a bit with thoughts of how little like a husband and how much like a boy she had been treating Chris since they arrived at the mall.

    'No,' laughed Hilda. 'Boys. I've had to put up with my fifth and biggest boy Fred for thirty four years.'  

    June laughed too. 

    'Chris still likes trains,' she said, still a little defensive of him. 

    'They all do,' replied Hilda.

    'And he's been ill,' June added. 'He needs... he's a bit more...'

    'Dependent?' said Hilda.

    'Yes,' said June. 

    She couldn't believe she was having this odd conversation.

    'You must love each other,' said Hilda kindly.

    June nodded.

    'Now,' said Hilda in a professional tone. 'I'm guessing that bra you're wearing is a little too tight.'

    'Yes, it is,' said June with surprise.

    'Let's look at the straps first,' said Hilda, gently taking June by the shoulders and turning her around.

     

    In the train section among the toys, Chris was dealing with his own issues. He needed to pee, but he didn't come to this mall often and had no idea where the bathrooms were. He didn't want to head off to find them because he knew he had to back with June in a few minutes. On the other hand, June knew the place well, but he didn't want to tell her in front of the saleslady that he needed the bathroom. He didn't like the look she gave him when they met. She didn't seem to think much of him. She reminded him of a teacher he'd had at junior school, Mrs McGowan. He'd asked her in class if he could go to the bathroom and she'd said to wait, there were only a few minutes to go. Chris had felt increasingly desperate, and was pressing his legs together and almost sweating. Then he wet his pants in front of everyone, his pee pouring over the wooden seat of his chair and splashing noisily onto the floor. He'd never forgotten that desperate feeling and the awful result, and he was beginning to feel that same desperation now. 

    All this musing hadn't helped, and Chris decided he didn't care what the old saleslady thought. He needed the bathroom. Transferring his weight from foot to foot and giving his thighs a final squeeze together, he set off back to find June.  

    The lingerie aisle they'd been in was empty. Desperately, Chris clutched his penis through his tracksuit and moved his weight from foot to foot as he looked around. The fixtures were not that high, and he could see there was no one in the whole lingerie department, just a thin lady way over on one side. He began to breathe rapidly. Then he saw a row of three white cubicles on the other side of the lingerie racks. The middle one had its door fully closed. Now he had a goal, and managed to reach the cubicles without further clutching and dancing.

    He stood outside the closed door.

    'June?' he said, trying to hide the desperation in his voice.

    'Chris, honey, what is it?' came June's voice.

    She wondered if he was OK.

    The door opened slightly and Hilda looked out at Chris. He caught sight of June behind Hilda. She was topless and holding a bright white bra to her breasts.   

    'Where's the bathroom I need to pee!' Chris said urgently. 

    He couldn't help thrusting his hand against his groin and moving from foot to foot.

    'Honey, they're around the side of the... I can't show you, I'm...'

    'I'll take him,' interrupted Hilda.

    June looked at Hilda with gratitude. 

    'Come on, Chris isn't it?' said Hilda, taking Chris by the arm. 

    Chris nodded. He didn't care how desperate he looked as he followed Hilda across the store and finally between two displays and down a long corridor.

    By the time they got to the bathroom door, Chris was clutching himself with his free hand and almost crying. His memory of his desperation and shame at junior school and his present feelings had finally coincided. He felt himself wetting as Hilda opened the door to a large, disabled bathroom. Chris was choking back sobs as he pulled down his now wet track pants and underpants and spun around to sit on the toilet, noisily pissing the remaining contents of his bladder into the bowl.  

    'I'm sorry, I'm sorry,' was all he could say between sobs to the saleslady. 

    To be continued.      

     

       

     

            

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  8. Chris and June  Chapter 1

    Author's note: Well, it's more of the same. People who like this sort of thing should find that this is the sort of thing they like, as I think Groucho Marx said.

     

    ‘Oh Chris,’ said June, gently shaking her husband awake. 

    Chris woke and looked at his wife. He knew from her tone of voice what had happened before he became aware of the clammy sheet beneath his hips.

    ‘I’m sorry, honey,’ he said, clambering out of the big bed. 

    ‘At least we’ve got the plastic undersheet,’ June said, tugging at the bedding as Chris stood by the side of the bed in his soaked pyjamas. 

    ‘I’ll put everything in the wash,’ said Chris, trying to be helpful. 

    His enuresis had developed slowly over the last few weeks. Other than that issue, Chris was physically healthy enough, and the doctor’s opinion was that there was a psychological background to it. 

    Some months previously, the company Chris worked for and had helped build from a startup became embroiled, through no fault of Chris’s, in a series of complex legal actions which had very serious financial implications for him. In short, the company had failed under the weight of the law suits. Chris and June had said goodbye to the use of various company-owned assets such as a holiday house and car. Worse, a network of long forgotten directors’ guarantees had meant that Chris had been stripped not only of his once considerable wealth, but his business prospects as well. 

    ‘Oh, you were with them,’ he heard more than once. 

    Chris had had a few consulting jobs since the Big Disaster, but not enough to keep things afloat. He’d become bitter and depressed, and more or less stopped working. The couple now relied on June’s inherited capital and solid job, as an insolvency lawyer, ironically, to maintain their house and somewhat less lavish lifestyle.  

    Chris now spent his time around the house, doing the things he’d never had the time to do while he was working long hours for the company. He gradually pulled out of his angry depression and began to take a genuine interest in the things he found to do at home.

    The dynamic between he and June began gradually to change too. June found that as the breadwinner, she began to enjoy the responsibility of supporting Chris and helping him through the dark times while his life’s work crashed around him.

    Chris carried his armful of wet bedding into the laundry. He looked at the plastic basket of their laundry which represented one of his chores for the day. He loaded the bedding into the machine, added washing powder to the receptacle and turned the dial to full wash then turned on the machine. The other basket could wait. Chris looked again at its contents. There was his terry tracksuit top and bottom - the comfortable clothing he now wore most days, a couple of pairs of his underpants and some of June’s business blouses, some panties and bras, and a pair of June’s jeans along with her gym gear. June's smart work skirts and jackets were dry cleaned rather than washed. 

    Chris swallowed. His wife’s clothing seemed sophisticated compared with his simple tracksuits. Even her underwear looked more, well, adult, Chris thought. When he was first at home, Chris would dress in casual clothes. Then he'd only dress up if he went out with June - in her car of course. They hadn't replaced Chris’s company vehicle, and when his last licence renewal came around, June had said they could save the money since he didn't really need to drive at present. Chris had objected, but it was June’s money after all, so he'd given in without much pressure. Anyway, he didn't bother to change out of his tracksuit now if they went somewhere. There didn't seem much point, June had said. 

    With the laundry underway, Chris went to the kitchen. He usually helped June with the breakfast, and did the washing up after she'd left for work. 

    Chris found June in the kitchen, wearing a tight pair of jeans and a t shirt. He sat in his usual place at the breakfast table off the kitchen, where June had laid out a bowl of cornflakes for him.

    ‘Is it casual Friday at work or something?’ he asked, admiring as he always did June’s firm, well built body in the close fitting clothes. 

    ‘No,’ said June. ‘And it’s Wednesday, Mr Muddlehead. My last case has finished and I thought I'd take a day off. Spend it with my baby,’ she said with a smile, putting a glass of orange juice in front of Chris and kissing him on the top of his head. ‘Didn't I mention it?’

    ‘No,’ replied Chris, putting a spoon into his cornflakes and milk. ‘What was the last case about?’

    ‘Oh, just boring stuff,’ said June. ‘Complicated but boring. I've got to do a bit of shopping today. I'm meeting up with Josie and I thought we could all have lunch in the park. We’ll leave soon after breakfast, once you've had a shower.’

    There goes my morning on the computer, thought Chris. And lunch with Josie. She was a clone of June - a successful businesswoman, fit from regular workouts at the gym, and about three inches taller than he was, Chris thought with some irritation. Josie didn't just literally look down on Chris - she seemed to regard him as June’s unsuccessful husband and barely paid attention to him when she was around him. 

    ‘Cheer up, grumpy,’ said June, looking at Chris’s gloomy face. ‘You like the park. And I expect you to be nice to Josie.’

    ‘I am cheered up,’ said Chris defensively. ‘It's just…’

    it was just that Chris felt that Josie treated him like an idiot. Last time she'd dropped in, Chris had tried to join in a discussion about finance and she'd brushed him off, telling him it was 'money stuff' and asking him about the computer game he'd been playing when she arrived.

    ‘Honey, Josie is a busy woman, like me. We often work together so we tend to talk about work. She doesn't think that really interests you, but she does like you, Chris. She thinks you're sweet. Now finish up and hop into the shower. We've got a lot to do.’

    You mean you've got a lot to do, thought Chris. 

    ‘Can I have a cup of coffee first?’ asked Chris, eyeing June's steaming mug of freshly brewed coffee. 

    ‘I don't think so, Chris,’ said June. ‘I think you'd better give coffee a break for a while. It might help with your bedwetting.’

    ‘It's not bedwetting,’ objected Chris. ‘Just twice, well three times in months. That's not bedwetting.’

    ‘Sweetie, it's four times not three, and in six weeks, not ‘months’. Twice in the last fortnight. If that's not ‘bedwetting’ it's awfully close. That's why we've got the plastic undersheet now. Doctor’s orders. Remember what Sally said?’

    ‘She sees everything as a medical problem with a medical solution,’ replied Chris. ‘All I need to do is relax a bit, and I'm doing that.’

    ‘And your bedwetting’s getting worse,’ said June, putting her hand gently on Chris’s arm. 

    ‘It's not ‘my bedwetting’, June,’ said Chris forcefully, blinking and looking away from June as he felt unbidden tears rising. 

    ‘Oh, honey, everyone's on your side,’ said June as Chris stood up. ‘Tell you what, we'll pick up a deep pan pizza from Joe’s for lunch, or I can make chicken and mayo sandwiches,’ she added. ‘Which do you want?’

    ‘Whatever,’ said Chris as he stumped off to the bathroom. 

    June sighed. Josie was right, she thought. He was like a surly teenager sometimes.

     

    To be continued. 

     

     

     

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