[Sam and his wife (but that could change) Chris]

Chapter 3 - Joy juice

Sam looked around happily as Chris made another appointment for him to see Dr Hennig. He looked up as the big nurse came in and gave Chris a white bag.

"His clothes, and a drink for later this evening if he wants some more," said the nurse, handing Chris a small translucent plastic bottle filled with what Sam could see must have been more of the delicious red raspberry drink.

Then the nurse bent down to Sam, and gave him a fluffy yellow bundle. Sam accepted it eagerly, and was delighted to find it was a squashy rabbit with big, fluffy yellow ears. He looked at its face with its big round eyes and giggled again, waving the rabbit around.

"What do you say, Sammy?" he heard his wife say.

Sam remembered his manners.

"Thank you!" he said, beaming up at the nurse.

"That's for being good, Sammy," the nurse replied with a smile.

Sam and Chris left the building hand in hand. Sam couldn't remember feeling happier. Not just about having the rabbit, which he had already in his mind he had named Fluffy, but about holding Chris' hand, and about being in such special clothes.

As the pair walked down the steps outside the building to street level Sam was very aware that he was thickly diapered. He had almost to walk sideways down the steps because of the thickness at his groin. As they reached the level pavement, he looked around at the people on the street. There were tall numen, some with boys like him, but no-one else he could see in the same special clothes. Far from feeling embarrassed about the bulk around his thighs, Sam was proud of it.

Dr Hennig had suggested a visit to Sam's work on the way home. When Chris told him, Sam was full of excitement at showing off his new clothing to his workmates.

(Interrupted by events in the real world...)

[Sam and his wife (but that could change) Chris]

Tell me what is, and I'll try to write something that might titillate you. I have a bit of time between contracts... I don't mind being criticised, btw. (Hit me, hit me... ; )

And thanks so much, justme. You are too kind.

[Sam and his wife (but that could change) Chris]

Thank you, infant, for that slightly surreal comment. All that scrolling down a pasted chapter for 'different'. And wouldn't life be dull if we weren't all different. Especially, different in our physical ages and our secret, and not so secret, 'inner ages'. : )

[Sam and his wife (but that could change) Chris]

Chapter 2 - A few steps more

"Sam, please!"

Sam flinched slightly as he sat on the soft chair in Dr Hennig's waiting room. A few strands of long, blonde hair fell over his face, and he brushed them aside with a reflexive action of his small hand as he stood up. Chris stood with him, and gave him a reassuring pat on the bottom as the pair made their way into the doctor's consulting room.

The room was large and pleasantly bright. Reassuringly cheerful, thought Sam as Chris and Dr Hennig chatted about Sam's 'progress'. The most astounding thing about The Adjustment, thought Sam, was the confident way women, ok, numen, he said to himself - the endless promotion (in more ways than one) of women as 'numen' made the word 'woman' seem as outdated as 'miss' had been decades earlier - was the confident way numen were handling the huge changes.

"So Sammy," began the doctor. "How's work?"

Sam swallowed. Straight into it, he thought.

"Good," he said quietly.

"What are you doing at work at the moment?" asked Dr Hennig.

Sam was sure that his job description was in the big sheaf of notes Dr Hennig had balanced on her knee.

Sam brushed his hair aside again.

"Well, we do filing, sorting out papers - collating, you know. Sometimes I make tea or do something for one of the, the, my bosses," Sam replied.

He felt a twinge of his old anger.

"You used to be a boss, didn't you Sam?" the doctor asked.

"Ages ago," said Sam.

What a boring question he thought.

"11 months ago," said Dr Hennig matter of factly. "You were the state sales manager."

Sam looked at his wife, who was smiling back at him.

"What is your job description now, Sammy?" the doctor asked.

"Erm, I'm a, I'm an office junior, doctor," Sam replied.

"And to whom do you report, Sammy?" the doctor continued.

Sam squirmed a little in his seat.

"Ms Playfair," said Sam.

Chris leant forward, putting her hand on Sam's thigh.

"Now Sammy, that's not quite right, is it. You don't actually talk to Ms Playfair, do you. Who tells you what to do at work?" she said kindly.

Sam looked from his wife to the doctor. They both had the same short cropped hair, tinted the same orangish colour, like a lot of numen. They were both very tall, from Sam's point of view, and both their faces had the same slightly wan look of no makeup.

He was trying to be helpful and tell the truth. He wanted to be helped - that's why he was here.

"Sally Atkins tells me what to do," Sam replied. "She's the, er, sales manager's, I mean Ms Playfair's PA," Sam said.

"And the sales manager, Ms Playfair, used to be your PA, didn't she?" asked Dr Hennig.

"Yes," said Sam.

"Are you still cross about that?" asked the doctor.

"No," said Sam. "We've talked about this, Dr Hennig!"

"I know, Sammy," said the doctor. "But I just want to be sure. Is there anyone in the office who has to do what you tell them?"

Sam paused. He wanted a hug from Chris.

"Anyone?"

"No," said Sam. He wanted to go to the bathroom.

"I see," said the doctor. "Now, Sammy, I know Chris puts you in a diaper at night-time. I want to ask you about wetting your pants at work."

Sam's eyes widened.

"It was an accident," he began, speaking quickly.

"Several accidents," corrected the doctor. "Three, I understand. Now, Sammy..."

"I didn't mean to!" objected Sam.

"I know, sweetie, it's alright, I'm not being critical. I'm just wondering, does anyone else at work wet themselves?" asked Dr Hennig.

"I don't know, I mean I don't think so," said Sam.

Dr Hennig stood up, and went to the window. She really is tall, thought Sam. She was wearing pants, like most numen. They were light grey, and tight with a long zipper down the front, like the pants Chris often wore. The material was thin and stretched over the big mound below her belly. It was a real zip, too, Sam could see, not a fake stitched zip like the one on his own yellow overalls. He wondered for a moment if somehow numen stood up to pee, like he used to. It had been a long time since he had seen Chris peeing.

"Sam?"

Sam blinked.

"Yes, what?" he asked.

"Please pay attention. I was asking you if you thought it was fair that people at work had to help you when you wet yourself in the office," the doctor said.

"It was just a couple of accidents, it was because..." Sam replied.

"I know Sammy, but you did need help, didn't you. Ms Playfair had to ask Sally to change you before you went home, didn't she?" the doctor continued.

Sam just nodded. He wondered if this was a big deal or not. He knew some boys ended up wetting during the day, but he had just had some accidents. He was still working. He had a proper job.

"And you've been wetting at home, haven't you, Sammy, during the day?"

Sam turned to his wife. She looked back at him with her head to one side.

"Sam," the doctor said, looking at him carefully, "are you wet now?"

"No," he said, then felt terribly unsure.

He had wanted to go to the bathroom a minute ago, but no longer felt the need. He took his eyes from the statuesque doctor, and looked quickly at the folds of yellow fabric at his crotch. All seemed well, yet... He moved in his seat. He couldn't have.

"Stand up, Sammy," said Dr Hennig.

Obediently, Sam stood up. He felt the problem against his skin before he found it with his fingers. The seat of his overalls was soaked. He turned to see the soft seat of the chair in the same condition, then looked helplessly from the doctor to Chris. Then he began to cry.

Instinctively, he reached out for Chris, who held him to her side.

"It's ok, that chair's washable," said Dr Hennig. "Sammy, I want you to pop into a clinic in this building. The nurse will help you," she added as the door opened and a tall nurse in white pants and top entered the room.

Sam was confused at the flow of events. Chris gave him a hug and a squeeze as the nurse took him by the hand and led him out of the consulting room through a different door than the one by which they'd entered. It led to a short corridor, from which the nurse took him into a another sort of consulting room. The walls were all white, and there were posters on the walls about continence. There was even a poster describing the various sorts of DriBoi underwear that were in all the TV ads.

In short order, the nurse had Sam on a padded, waist high bench covered in a disposable paper sheet. Sam was too shocked to resist as the nurse stripped off his clothing and carefully wiped him with a sweet-smelling towel, lifting his tiny penis between two fingers to wipe the vestigial scrotal sac beneath before dusting his crotch and genitalia with talc. Sam closed his eyes as she put him in a thick diaper, even thicker than the ones he wore at night.

The nurse reassured him constantly as she worked, and by the time she had finished, Sam's tears had reduced to sniffles.

She helped Sam off the bench. He was wearing a pale blue one piece garment with a short, puffy pants section that ended with elastic around the legs.

"Uh uh," the nurse said as Sam wandered towards the door. "Not finished yet," she added as she bent to snap a stud she had missed in the crotch.

Sam was in a daze.

"Feet!" Said the nurse, and Sam looked dumbly at his bare feet.

He lifted each foot in turn to allow the nurse to pull on each foot an elasticated disposable paper shoe, like a loose ballet slipper. Finally, the nurse combed his hair while Sam stood still, his mind swimming.

"It's Sammy, isn't it?" asked the nurse as she measured out a pink liquid into a plastic cup. "Do you like raspberry?"

"Raspberry?" thought Sam. "Er, yes," he said.

"Good," said the nurse. "I want you to drink this, Sammy."

Sam took the little cup and drank the contents.

"Just sit here and wait, honey," said the nurse, ushering Sam to a small armchair in the room. "You might as well go home happy."

Sam was about to say something when the nurse guided him into the chair and he sat with a soft thud. It was a very comfy chair. Sam was thinking about what he should be saying to this big nurse. He was having trouble organising his thoughts. I know, he thought. I can tell her I don't need a diaper. But then, he had wet his pants. Perhaps he should tell her that. But she would know. The doctor knew, and Chris. And Sally at work. It was funny, sitting in the comfy chair with his big, thick diaper on. He had wet himself after all. Perhaps he should tell her that. Just say, "I wet my pants." That would be the truth.

"I know, honey. But you're in your nice, dry diaper now," said the nurse, smiling at him. "You'll be home soon."

Sam was even more confused. He wasn't sure what he had said if he had said anything.

A moment later, Chris was in the room. Chris heard himself laugh as he took her hand. He waddled after her and stood by the reception desk while Chris spoke to the tall young numan there.

"Don't you look sweet," the young numan said.

Chris giggled, and put his small hand over his thickly padded crotch. He hoped the receptionist hadn't noticed that his pants had studs in the crotch. That would be a giveaway that he was in a daytime diaper.

To be continued...

[Sam and his wife (but that could change) Chris]

This is a tale set at some time in the future. There's been a change, a fundamental change in the way society is organised. No-one knows quite why this has happened, but half the population isn't complaining. The change proceeds at different paces in different places, but it is unstoppable. It is known as The Adjustment...

Chapter 1 - The scene is set.

Sam had caught the early bus home from work. There had been a lot of filing to do and Ms Deborah Playfair, Sam's boss, had let the team go home early as a reward for their hard work.

Sam was sprawled in one of the big leather chairs in the living area, watching television, when he heard Chris drive in.

"Home early, darling," said Chris as she slid her briefcase onto a side table.

"Ms Playfair let us go early," Sam replied, looking up at his wife as she flicked through the mail Sam had collected from the letterbox near the drive. She put the worthwhile stuff aside, and expertly spun the junk mail unopened into the nearby rubbish bin which Sam had just emptied as part of his chores.

Chris looked imposing in her jeans, boots and open-necked business shirt. Even without the Cuban heels she favoured, she was around six feet tall. Her toned body and well-cut short hair gave her the look of a young Amazon, which indeed she was.

Sam felt extra small looking up at her, and stood up. In his work-issue sneakers, he gave her a good six inches in height. The girlish yellow jumpsuit all his team wore hardly helped.

Chris smiled at him, and pulled him towards her with an arm over his shoulder and around his back. She kissed him on the forehead, but had turned away by the time Sam, grinning and with his eyes closed, had risen onto his toes to kiss her on the mouth. Chris was busy opening the letters addressed to her.

Sam planted his heels on the ground and opened his eyes. Chris was reading her bank statement.

"Sam," she began, "Do you really think it's worth you working..."

They had had this out before.

"It's a good job!" Sam said defensively. "It's better..."

"Sammy," Chris interrupted. "I'm not saying it's not, just that with Edith leaving, it just seems practical that you could do more work here. You could still do a day or two a week in transition. A lot of boys do. You'd still see your friends."

"Chris, I'm not in transition, for a start," Sam said angrily.

"Sam..." said Chris with concern.

"OK," said Sam defiantly. "I don't drive. I'm a bit shorter. I'm not quite as strong. Things have changed at work, but I'm still, I'm still a..."

Sam was thinking of what happened at night. He knew from the look on her face, that pitying but caring look on Chris's face that she was thinking the same thing. Sam felt his face flushing and the tears about to come. And worse.

"Sammy, come here," said Chris gently, her arms outstretched.

"I know that things are different. I know what's happening and I, I... But I'm still a man, Chris. I know I might be adjusting a little bit but I'm still a man!"

Sam was sobbing now, as Chris held him close. She stroked the top of his head, pushing the long blonde hair behind Sam's ears.

"Of course you are, honey, but you must just go with things," Chris said. "You're too aware, that's what Dr Hennig said, wasn't it? That's what makes you uncomfortable. You know what she said - changes are not just happening to you, they are you. Look at Ryan next door."

"I'd rather not," said Sam.

Ryan and Sal were 'adjusting' perfectly, it seemed.

The television broke the silence.

"Keep your boy happy!" boomed a confident female voice. "Transition can be a difficult time, and it's up to every numan to give their boys the love they need, especially in those intimate areas. A dry boy is a happy boy, and DriBoi can help. Our range..."

Chris picked up the remote and stabbed it at the TV.

"I hate those 'numan' ads," he said, beginning to cry.

Chris laughed.

"It's just an ad, Sammy," she said. "And you do wear DriBois, don't you? Anyway, she's right. It is a bit difficult for you because you are so aware. You know that Ryan has been in daytime DriBois for weeks, don't you, and he's loving being at home."

"I only need them at night, Chris, you know that, and Ryan's a... a..."

Sam was going to say 'wanker', but it suddenly struck him how inappropriate the term was now. All boys, that is, men in transition, Sam corrected himself, were first affected 'down there'. First, the loss of libido and the capacity for erections. Then, the awful shrinking, and having to sit down to pee. At least the 'failure to achieve erection' came first. With the shrinking came the loss of body hair. It was so common now that underwear for boys - the sort Chris now bought for Sam - looked like the things girls had always worn, even if some boys underpants had an extra layer 'for security'. Fully grown women, or 'numen', Sam thought miserably, were now the ones with bulges in their jeans. Sam thought of the mound under Chris' jeans, and the luxuriant pubic hair covering it, which like most women, she no longer shaved or even trimmed, not that he had the same access there which he once...

"Oh, Sammy!" Chris was saying.

Sam snapped out of his angry reverie.

His eyes followed his wife's, to the flattish crotch of his yellow work overalls. A dark, wet patch was spreading from the bottom of the crotch seam down his legs.

That hadn't happened for a week. He shouldn't have got so worked up, Sam thought. He could feel it happening now, but couldn't stop it.

Sam was silent as Chris helped him change. He objected to having to wear a DriBoi so early in the evening, and Chris let him wear his usual briefs.

"Your next appointment with Dr Hennig is the day after tomorrow," Chris said. "You'd better mark this wetting on your calendar."

"OK," said Chris.

There wasn't much more to be said on the matter. The calendar from the clinic already had x's all over it from wet nights, and a few from accidents in the car or when he didn't make the bathroom in time. Now there were two, three actually, when he didn't even know it was happening. Four if the one in the garden counted, when he told Chris he tripped over in the way to the bathroom. Still, stupid Ryan next door, Sam's old drinking and golf buddy, was in thick DriBois all day, and didn't seem to care less. No wonder he was at home all day.

To be continued...

[The Diary Of A Bad Boy]

Thanks Baby Jennie for bringing this story back to the front of the board and thanks ever so much to diaperpt for writing it! It's a great story. Thank you again!

[Put in his place]

there's more coming. I managed half the new chapter on the weekend, and I'll try to finish and post it in the next couple of days. I have ex mother in law staying, which has given me an idea for a story with a crabby ex m-i-l as the 'victim'. Apologies for the delay!

[Put in his place]

There's more on the way. Just running slightly late. : )

[Put in his place]

Aw, shucks... I hope so too. I can write on the weekends now, and today is Friday...

[Put in his place]

Preface

I know I have a bit of a history of not finishing stories, and I owe this board a couple of endings. I will get around to it. However, I now have a bit of time to write, and a story worked out, so I'll start with that. Here goes...

Note - I'm typing this on an iPad, and can't find a text edit panel to make text bold etc. I'll use some caps, spaces and ellipses - that might help.

PUT IN HIS PLACE CHAPTER 1

Introduction...

The daycare ran several 'groups' simultaneously, and there was a constant background of juvenile squeals and chatter as the group members got through their day. Things quietened slightly when the 'junior' group, primarily younger children and one group above the 'littlies', had its hour long morning and afternoon nap times.

Afternoon nap was over, and the second group was well into playtime. Heather Rumball moved carefully among her charges, helping here and there, resolving little disputes and generally making sure the kids enjoyed their playtime.

The place was sunny and colourful, and smelled of plasticine and crayons, with a whiff of talc and diapers.

Michael, as usual, was sitting with his friends Sally and Peter. Heather smiled as she watched them tackling a plastic puzzle together, then looked with concern at Michael. Accidents sometimes happened in group two, and she saw a little dark patch growing in the soft blue material at Michael's groin as he concentrated on fitting a couple of plastic components together. Heather took a few steps towards the trio and squatted down next to Michael, who seemed oblivious of his problem. Heather wanted to deal with it without disturbing the others in the group.

"Michael, honey," she said quietly. "I think we need to go wee wees."

She took Michael's hand in hers and stood him up as she rose. She sighed as she saw the puddle on the floor. Michael's pants were now dark blue all down one leg.

"Come on, sweetie," she said, leading Michael towards the bathroom and change area.

The daycare centre was nothing if not flexible, and after a little early reticence, had taken to Michael as he took to it.

Michael was now aware that he had wet himself, and had begun sniffling. Heather gave him a quick, reassuring hug.

"It's OK, Michael. Everyone has accidents now and then," she said as they entered the big bathroom with its line of open cubicles on one side and changing tables on the other.

The parents and carers of the centre's attendees had to provide a change of clothing for just such occasions, and after helping Michael undress, Heather went to the big cupboard at the end of the room and retrieved the zippered plastic bag labelled in large letters 'Michael'. Heather raised her eyebrows a little as she took the pants from one of the bag's compartments. They were shorts rather than pants, of interlock cotton cut rather full with elasticated legs and in a dark pink colour. Heather wondered if he wore clothes like that at home. Still, neither Michael nor the others in the group were likely to notice anything odd. Heather felt around in the other compartments for underpants. There was only a shirt and a yellow woollen pullover. It was getting near home time, she thought, He would just have to go commando.

She turned to Michael, who was standing sobbing quietly in the middle of the room, naked from the waist down. Heather couldn't resist a quick look at his little wee wee drooping from his hairless groin. 'Penis', she corrected herself, although Michael's diminutive member was a far cry from the piece of heavy equipment her boyfriend carried. 'Back to the job', Heather told herself, and sitting Michael on one of the changing tables she had him spread his legs a little while she wiped his genital area.

Heather helped him into his dry shorts.

"Do you have daytime accidents at home, Michael?" she asked kindly.

Heather usually looked after the littlies in group one. She knew Michael, but wasn't fully aware of his situation in general.

Michael looked at the floor.

"Sometimes," he mumbled.

"Do you wet often?" Heather asked.

"I don't know," replied Michael quietly, and began sobbing again.

Heather looked thoughtful.

"Well, when..." she began. "Who picks you up, Michael?" she asked, gently holding Michael's arm.

"Anne," said Michael, mumbling again.

"Well, honey, I want you to tell Anne that you had another accident today, and that you need some... some underthings in your spare clothes bag. Could you do that for me?" asked Heather.

Pick up time was usually hectic, and Heather wasn't sure she would have a chance to talk to Anne. She looked at Michael, and read the distress on his tearful face. Gently she took Michael's hand from his shorts, where he was clutching his little penis.

"Honey, I might have a word to her too," she said. "Now Anne is your carer, isn't she?"

Michael looked at the floor again and mumbled.

"What was that, sweetie?" asked Heather.

"My wife," Michael replied between sobs.

Heather hugged him again for a moment, mentally ticking herself off for not recalling the briefing of a week ago. The daycare, more correctly the "Community Care Centre" had a number of special needs cases. 'Children' like Michael - the term 'clients' used in the centre's literature seemed too cold for these special cases, were treated on an 'age appropriate' basis, the age being the officially declared psychological age rather than the physical age. Some of the 'bigger' children were there due to a congenital condition, and some, like Michael, were there as a result of physical or psychological trauma.

Heather remembered now that in Michael's case the cause was psychological. She wasn't aware exactly what the trauma was. Michael was from interstate, and had been placed in the centre only a month before, attending most weekdays from early morning until mid-afternoon. Michael had been assessed at group three level, but had struggled to keep up. He seemed happy in group two, but Heather wondered about his wetting, She knew he was a bedwetter, and along with a few others in group two was diapered for naptime, but daytime wetting was relatively rare in group two, and this was Michael's second accident in the week Heather had been looking after the group. The centre's policy on daytime wetting was quite strict, and continued accidents usually meant a demotion to group one, Heather's normal group.

She led Michael back to his playmates, and watched as they welcomed him back into their game without demur. He was such a sweet kid that Heather thought she wouldn't mind having him with her in group one, but she wondered how he would take being with the 'littlies'. He was quite upset when he moved from the 'seven to nines' in group three to the 'fives and sixes' in group two. There was only one 'special needs' child in the 'under fours' in Heather's group - Wendy, whose dpa ('declared psychological age') was three, and who even at three was fully diapered and had only basic language skills.

Whatever, Heather thought, it was not her decision. She looked at the big cartoon clock in the group two room. She hoped Michael would stay dry, and considered what she would say to the poor man's wife.

Some time before...

Mike Preston was a little drunk as he swung his SUV into the driveway of the big ranch style house, clipping the letterbox for what, only the second time this month.

He heard Anne shout from the house, but chose to ignore her.

"Ah, get fucked," he said to himself.

Now she was banging on the door of the car as Mike leant back in his seat. He turned up the radio. Anne went away, slamming the front door as she entered the house.

Mike waited a few minutes, then climbed out of the car. He stopped at the wheelie bin by the garage door and opening his slim leather briefcase, removed its contents, two folded newspapers, and dropped them into the bin. He closed the case and fumbled with his keys at the front door. It opened suddenly, and he would have fallen into Anne's arms had she not stepped back in disgust.

To be continued...

[Austrlia]

Adelaide. Anyone in Darwin?

[At Home With Sue]

Note: Thank you so much for your patience. I've edited the last two chapters a bit. It escaped me that young Joe was no longer working, and was at home all day.

At Home With Sue

Chapter 12

Joe didn't say much as Sue laid him back on the diaper spread on his bed. Sue chatted away about Jan and Annie as she dusted Joe's pee-pee with talc and pulled up the front of the diaper.

Everything seemed so normal.

He tried to remember the last time he had got up by himself, showered, dressed and gone to work. He wasn't exactly sure - although he didn't think it was long ago. He tried to remember arriving at work, and was startled to realise that he couldn't remember what the building had looked like. The only building he could think of was the wooden railway station he wanted to play with today. What was going on? This was worrying. Was he losing his mind? He sucked hard on his thumb and tried to think.

Sue had smiled as she watched Joe put his thumb in his mouth as though it was the most natural thing for anyone to do.

'All done, sweetie,' said Sue and helped Joe up so that she could put his pants on.

Joe didn't answer, and continued to stare at nothing. A rivulet of saliva ran slowly down his wet thumb onto his softly clenched fist.

'Earth to Joe!' said Sue with a laugh.

Joe, now sitting on the edge of the bed, blinked and looked up at Sue with big eyes. For a moment, Sue thought he was going to cry, and wondered what had upset him. On an impulse, she pulled him towards her, wrapping her arms around Joe's back as his head rested between her breasts. Joe didn't resist, and the two sat motionless for some time. Sue could feel and almost hear Joe's heartbeat.

Joe could certainly hear his wife's beating heart. It was all he could hear as he let his thumb drop from his mouth. With his head sideways against Sue's soft chest, Only the cloth of Sue's thin blouse and her lacy bra separated Joe's lips from the stiffening nub of her nipple.

They sat quietly, each of them enjoying the warm thoughts swirling almost around them.

There were no words needed. Joe felt simultaneously utterly safe and utterly released. He had felt something similar on the way back from Pam's, when he had soiled his diaper next to the car. That was frightening, though. He felt as if someone else was performing the infantile act, and his real self was scared of how Sue might react. It was different now. Sue was warm and comforting. He knew how she would react, not to another soiled diaper; that was nothing now, he knew. That was why he had a diaper on.

It was the question he was asking that he felt so confidently expectant about. He pressed his face farther into Sue's warm breast, and could just put one corner of his mouth to her now erect nipple. He took it between his lips, feeling his saliva wetting the blouse and the thicker, stiffer bra beneath.

Sue closed her eyes. She thought of what she had read of the subconscious self. The subconscious self which had urged her to buy a nursing bra several months ago. She had felt weird buying it, and so sad that it would never be used. She almost didn't go through with the purchase, but decided that even if she never had a baby, she could at least feel what a nursing bra felt like. She had even looked on the internet to see if there really were drugs that might induce lactation, but at that point, her head had defeated her subconscious or whatever those deep, inarticulated longings were called.

Now, it wasn't her husband gently putting his lips to her bra-bound teat, it was, it was someone, or something else.

The room seemed to glow as Sue slowly moved Joe's head aside. He was dribbling saliva now as Sue undid the buttons of her blouse, tugged downwards at the front of her bra cup, slid her hand under her breast and carefully repositioned Joe's lips to her pinky brown nipple.

'Mommy's here, baby,' she whispered as Joe began suckling.

Sue felt something like a bolt of velvet lightning shooting from her nipple to irradiate her whole body. The room seemed to disappear and time was reduced to the steady sucking of Joe's lips.

Neither Sue nor Joe had any idea how long they sat there, enveloped in a special feeling which otherwise only nursing mothers and their infants are privileged to experience.

When the doorbell rang, Sue snapped back to the here and now. Joe was asleep, snoring softly. He mumbled something as Sue laid him back on the bed, still sleeping.

Sue settled her breast back in the cup and closed the bra. As she turned to go to the door, she felt a slippery sensation between her legs.

'Are you home, Sue?' came Pam's voice from the open kitchen door. 'Yoo hoo! Hello!'

Sue hurried to the kitchen.

'Hi Pam!' she said a little breathlessly. 'I was just...I was...'

Pam couldn't miss the open buttons on her friend's blouse and the dark wet patch over one nipple. She averted her eyes downwards, and was slightly shocked to see another small wet patch in the crotch of Sue's tight cream leggings.

Pam saved Sue any embarrassment of an explanation.

'And how's our gorgeous little Joe?', she asked.

'Oh, er, just, just beautiful,' she replied, her grin telling Pam all she needed to know.

'Where's Jo?' demanded Annie, bouncing through the kitchen door. 'Can I play with her?'

'Jo's having a nap, darling,' said Sue. 'You can play with her later, there'll be plenty of time.'

[At Home With Sue]

Thanks aldl. 'Smooth writing' - what a compliment! You've induced me to go back and edit out all the typos!

[At Home With Sue]

At Home with Sue

Chapter 11

'Never mind, sweetie, that's what they're for,' said Sue, arriving silently in the bathroom and gently hugging her husband before she slipped off his heavy diaper and guided him into the shower. Joe's wailing abated and he stood quietly under the shower, his penis sticking out above his little balls.

Sue smiled at the sight. She had always thoought of Joe's balls as small, not that she had had much experience with other sets. Joe did seem to have a small scrotum, though, thought Sue as she reached under the shower to help him wash his privates. Joe's ball-sack was small and pink, and it held one ball up tight above the other. From head-on, you might not think he had any testes at all, Sue thought with a giggle. The whole thing was made even cuter by Joe's lack of pubic hair. Not like my thick, black patch, she thought, feeling herself moisten as she rubbed Joe's diminuitive cock. Sue decided to keep Joe hairless down there while he was in diapers. In fact, she thought, she would remove the little tufts of fine, blonde hair from Joe's armpits as well. He looked so nice all smooth and babyish, Sue thought.

Under the shower, Joe began to feel better.

After making sure his front and bottom were properly washed, Sue left Joe to his own devices. Joe didn't mind the help. They used to shower together a lot, and washing each others' genitals had been part of their usual showering activity.

What did she mean 'he was always wet', Joe wondered. He had accidents, but he didn't wet every night did he? Did he? He couldn't quite remember. Maybe he wasn't quite awake yet.

Still, it was a work day, and Joe didn't have to go to work. He wanted to muck around with his trains. He'd barely had time for that while he was working. Now he had lots of time.

All in all, Joe considered things weren't too bad, apart from the bedwetting thing that had reared its head.

20 minutes later, Joe was dressed in a fresh diaper and his track pants. He had been feeling so peculiar that he hadn't put up much of a fuss about being diapered during the day.

'Are we going somewhere today?' Joe asked as he ate his cereal.

'What, dear?' replied Sue as she cleared up things in the kitchen. 'Oh, no, were not. I'm having the week off and Pam is dropping Annie over later this morning.

'Annie!' said Joe, alarmed. 'But I'm in a diaper!'

'So?' said Sue.

'But Annie's about 5,' said Joe, 'And...'

'She's 4,' corrected Sue, 'And yes I know what she thinks. We all do. It's cute.'

Joe pushed his chair back and stood up.

'Sue, she thinks I'm, I'm a..'

'A little girl called Jo,' Sue cut in. 'We know. Jan thinks it's part of her being lonely after changing schools. In fact, she thought it might be an idea if..'

'If what?' said Joe angrily. 'If I play with her today or something?'

'Just humour her, Joe,' said Sue. 'Just go along with it to help her settle at her new school. Give her some confidence that she at least has one little friend her own, well, age, Joe. That she thinks so, anyway.'

'So what am I meant to do,' asked Joe, feeling a warm stream of pee soaking his diaper.

He ignored it, and continued unhappily:

'Sit around and play with her toys? I'm an adult, Sue! Aren't you forgetting that? said Joe, waddling into the kitchen with his empty plates. He became conscious of the thick, wet diaper between his legs, and he seemed to hear a laughing echo of his own voice - 'I'm an adult, Sue!'

'Well you seemed quite happy with Annie's company on the weekend,' said Sue, 'And all you've done here for the last two days is sit over there with your trains.'

Joe stopped short. Two days? What two days? Had he been in the garage to his model train layout? The main transformer was out, and the track was dead. Surely he'd know if he'd fixed it?

Joe stared at the door leading from the kitchen to the garage.

'Not in there,' laughed Sue. 'Over there,' she said, indicating a big plastic box on the floor of the living area. 'With that box of Nick's old trains that Jan dropped in on Monday.'

A vision of a clunky wooden train and its big chunky wagons filled Joe's mind. In the big box - that one, over there. He dimly remembered playing with them, and started peeing again.

'Are you wetting, honeybunch?' said Sue.

Joe half-turned, feeling how wet his diaper was.

'An accident,' he said uncertainly.

'Never mind, sweetie. There's time to get you changed before Annie gets here.

Joe's mind raced as Sue marched him to the bedroom where she kept his diaper supplies.

To be continued..

[At Home With Sue]

At Home with Sue

Chapter 10

'Wake up, sleepyhead!'

Joe opened his eyes and blinked in the bright morning sun. They'd always loved the sunny morning aspect of the main bedroom, but this morning the sunshine seemed ominous. What time was it?

'It's ten o'clock, honey, time to get you up and changed.'

'Why aren't I...' said Joe, looking around then putting one hand to his crotch, to the mound of saturated padding inside his plastic pants.

'I'm wet!' Joe said, turning to Sue.

'Oh, Joe, you're always wet, now let's get you up and fixed for the morning,' said Sue, helping Joe out of the bed. The plastic sheet crinkled and two or three stuffed animals fell to the floor.

Jo stared at them as if they were little aliens.

'You can pick those up later,' said Sue, patting Joe's wet, diapered bottom to propel him towards the bathroom.

Joe trotted forwards, confused. Then he felt tears rolling diown his cheeks, due, he dimly realised, to his inability to resolve the confusion, and partly, he knew with a sharp intake of breath, due to seeing all his toys fall out of bed.

What was happening toi him? Joe began peeing. He quickened his step then tried to stop the flow. He couldn't. He finally reached the bathroom, where he stood in front of the closed toilet pan and not attempting to remove his diaper, let the streaming contents of his bladder pour into his thick, sagging diaper.

He was crying lustily by the time Sue arrived.

To be continued...

[At Home With Sue]

This may seem a copout, but I've just re-read the whole of this story - skimming over the miscellaneous chatter, for which I apologise - and I think leaving Jo/e in a nice fresh diaper after wetting and messing himself, good music on the radio and a happy wife/mummy, isn't a bad place to declare 'The end'.

[The Landlady]

Yes, a good start. Please write more!

[Sam And Jess]

Thank you, NewGuy20. What a great story. I'm sorry it had to end.

[Sam And Jess]

Sam really is becoming a toddler again. He takes Mummy's hand when it is offered, and does what he's told. If he isn't happy about something, such as the visit to Mummy's work, he worries about it but it doesn't occur to him to resist or try to change what will happen. He no longer believes he has the power to do that, such has been Mummy's careful assumption of control over Sammy's body, and mind. Sam just goes along, permanently dressed it seems in track pants over his bulky nappy - his days of wearing pull-ups are long gone - and a t-shirt.

[Sam And Jess]

Thank you so much...

[Sam And Jess]

Poor Sam. Soon it will dawn on him that he is in nappies 24/7 because he needs them. He is totally reliant on his mummy, and spends his days, effectively, playing. Apart from his size, chronological age and his gradually regressing outlook on the world, he is a toddler. And there is very little he can do about it. Clever mummy!

[At Home With Sue]

I've added a couple of hundred words to the start of the previous chapter to provide a better bridge between it and the chapter before it.

[At Home With Sue]

Thank you all for the kind remarks, especially those from chubbyshybigbaby, which I count among the best, most poignant compliments I've ever received for for my stories. I really think that AB/DL behaviour, like other, harmless fetish behaviours, plays an important, unsung role in providing happiness to many people who for one reason or another are unable to access other means of pleasure which many people simply take for granted. The part played in this by a sensitive and caring partner, whether or not they actually share the psychological release offered by the behaviour, is very important. Everyone should have the chance of being truly happy, if not by one way, then by another, and if not the enduring pleasure provided by a loving family, fulfilling job or whatever, then at least they should not be denied the intermittent pleasure and memories of a little make-believe.

[At Home With Sue]

At Home with Sue

[At Home With Sue]

At last. I'll write some more this weekend.