justforfun

I had a similar experience with bedwetting, where the changes happened slowly, and it's not until you're too far down the rabbit hole that you realize that there's no backing out. I had pretty much trained myself back to bedwetting in perhaps a year of focused effort, but for the next few (5-ish) years I assumed I could easily reverse it if I wanted to. When I met the woman who became my wife I made a half-hearted attempt attempt to get dry, but it didn't work. When I became a father 5 years after that, I made a very strong effort to get dry at night but despite a lot of effort I was not able to get consistently dry at night. It was at that point... ten years after I made myself a bedwetter... that I realized that it was too late. But, I don't know at what point it wouldn't have been too late. I don't know when the opt-out period ended. And yes, I agree, that's why although I'm fascinated by the idea of 24/7, it also scares me a lot... I don't know where the edge rally is...

I'm completely speculating, because I don't know. That said, I think it will vary person-to-person, but I do think the general concept would work pretty well. Might not get a lot of sleep at the beginning, though... and I don't know if the results would be limited to bedwetting. I would of course be very interested to hear your results!

I really don't know. I feel that the possibility of a shock, and especially a punishment, influenced my behavior... But... I am an engineer by trade, not a psychologist or game theorist. I'm sure there are multiple ways to do this that might work better or worse for a given person...

Since I only wore the device during the day, I just put a new condom cath in each morning after my shower. Its definitely a change-every-day thing. I was playing around with affixing the sensor to a tetherplug like think that I have, but I didn't feel like adding the risk of a UTI to the whole experience, so the condom cath seemed the easiest and least overall risk. There are probably better ways. The wires from the sensor were taped to the chastity cage to hold everything in position and then just ran up the front of the diaper I was wearing. It wasn't really a problem. This sensor worked surprisingly well, I have to say. As long as the condom cath didn't get kinked to block it up, it pretty accurately measured the wetting, and using the chastity cage to keep everything straight and unkinked worked well. I had tried a bunch of other way more complicated things but this simple little thing worked the best, and was by far the cheapest, at least for this proof of concept. A few minor design tweaks and it would be pretty bulletproof. The whole training algo was basically winged using Psych 101, guessing, and wishful thinking. And if that hacked-together mess was as successful as it was in changing my behavior, I would hate (?) to see what a well designed algorithm put together by people who knew what they were doing, and had a testing budget, would do...

On Sunday morning, after I had changed out of my night diaper and taken my shower, I was making breakfast when I realized I was peeing and my shorts were wet. I was pretty shocked, and wondered if I had made a really bad decision... I worked quite hard that morning to re-gain awareness and not just pee whenever. I think that it wouldn't take that much longer for it to be much more difficult for me to recover from. I don't know whether the fact that I'm already a bed wetter, or I wanted it, or what, but I seemed pretty darned susceptible to this kind of thing. Maybe... although my bedwetting experience has showed me that some things are a one-way street. I have been thinking seriously about applying this to my bedwetting but honestly that's a complicated emotional thing for me... bottom line is that it justifies me having and wearing diapers, even if the real-world implications of that are often problematic. After all these years it's part of my identity. I need to give that a lot more thought.

I didn't wet the bed beyond "normal" potty training time. When I was in my mid-twenties I decided that bedwetting was a good reason to justify having/wearing diapers and so I decided I was going to train myself to do so. So I did. I've written in the past how as my life changed that decision looked like a bad one, and I've made serious attempts to re-train myself, including when my daughter was getting out of diapers and the implications of being the only one wearing diapers started to sink in. I usually keep myself pretty hydrated, between several cups of coffee in the morning and tea or water that I have at my desk in the afternoon... I've always been like that, so I didn't really change my intake at all.

I wanted to write up the experiment that I talked about here (https://www.dailydiapers.com/board/index.php?/topic/91675-bedwetting-sensor-inverted/&do=findComment&comment=2141771 This was an attempt to explore the ideas that I introduced in my story, “The Trainer” (https://www.dailydiapers.com/board/index.php?/topic/61763-the-trainer-repost-complete ). I had a few weeks of ‘alone time’, and decided to see what would really happen. Components: ESP32 TTGO microcontroller Sensor 433MHz transmitter, Shock Collar Home automation infrastructure - MQTT server, OpenHab Assembly: Getting the ESP32 to talk to the shock collar was pretty straightforward, based on the work of others (https://github.com/CrashOverride85/collar). I modified the code a little to make it a little more reliable, but in general the code worked off the shelf. I played around with where to place the shock collar. The most effective proved to be on the top of the penis at the root. There, the minimum shock produced something that approximated an itch, while the maximum shock… well, I never could get myself to intentionally trigger anything over about 70. More than that was extremely unpleasant. I used the shock collar’s provided collar to fasten it; it would be trivial to affix it to a chastity cage or make it non-removable, but I decided that wasn’t necessary. I have a back-zipping romper that takes quite a bit of effort to get out of, so that was sufficient, in my mind, to keep me from bailing on a punishment. I wrote a few routines to provide gentle reminders (beep and/or lowest level shock), rewards (vibration), penalties (strong shocks), and punishments. Punishments were occasionally delivered randomly in place of penalties. Penalties weren’t all that bad… they stung, but they were over quickly. Punishments ramped up the shock significantly and went on, with random shock levels, lengths, and pauses, for some time. They sucked, and were definitely something to avoid. The next part was the sensor. I tried a bunch of different things, including diaper moisture sensors, capacitive sensors, and so on, but in the end the solution was much simpler, where I simply used two wires about 2 mm apart stuck through a piece of the body of a pen, which was the right size to insert into the output tube of a condom catheter. It responded with a drop in resistance, measurable through the ESP32’s ADC. I used a HiLetGo soil moisture module to provide some isolation, as well as a 10k pull-up resistor. The digital values read from the ADC ranged from 1000-1300 when dry, to 1-100 when actively wetting. I used an overly-long chastity cage with the cath’s tube through the end to keep things straight and flowing. It looked a little hacky, but worked very reliably. I used the ESP32’s WiFi to connect to my local network. MQTT provided the easy protocol to interact with OpenHab, where a MQTT ‘thing’ defined the control and status points. I could set the mode, shock levels, training intervals and aggressiveness, and trigger shocks and such. The server also logged the status values from the micro, which included training and wetting information that looked nice on a graph. The Esp32, 433Mhz transmitter, and moisture sensor boards all went into a small project box that could mount on a belt I wore. Nothing fancy at all, just made it portable. The Esp32 had a small battery that gave it 2-4 hours of operation, mostly depending on radio usage, but I could easily plug a USB power brick in when I wasn’t walking around. There was a lot I could have done to make the device much, much more power efficient, but I didn’t bother. Yes, the Esp did monitor it’s battery level and shock me if it was getting low. Training: The training algorithm was the hardest, and the part I fiddled with the most. What would result in behavioral changes? I tried a few things, and made changes over the course of the experiment. What I ended with was this: At any given point in time, there is a ‘target wet time’. This ranged from over an one hour to 20 minutes. At the beginning (“low aggressiveness”), the times were longer. Over the course of the week the time dropped. The time was always randomized, using a std deviation of 10% of the target, so that I wasn’t training to a specific time. When I wet, there was a probability of a reward vibration. The probability started high, and dropped as the aggressiveness factor increased. The probability was influenced by the time since the last wetting and the duration of the wetting. Shorter duration wettings with a shorter time since the last wetting had a higher probability of reward. Starting at about 50% of the target time, there was a probability of a reminder that could happen at any time. As the ‘aggressiveness’ increased over the week, the reminder went from a beep, to a beep plus a reminder shock (it felt like an itch), to mostly just the reminder shock. As the aggressiveness ramped, the probability of getting the reminder actually went down, such that it was more likely that I’d simply get a penalty shock, rather than a reminder first. Once a reminder happened, there were no rewards. At the target time, there started to be, with an increasing probability, a ‘penalty’ shock. This shock was enough to make me jump and get my attention. It wasn’t pleasant but wasn’t exceedingly painful, lasting only a second or two. With a small initial probability, but increasing based on both the aggressiveness and the time after the target, a punishment would be delivered. These, as I said above, sucked. They could go on for up to 30 seconds, with pauses, higher and lower shock levels, and so on. With a back-zip romper on, there wasn’t much I could do once a punishment kicked in. When a wetting was detected, the target time was re-calculated, Observations: First, know that I trained myself back to bed-wetting more than 20 years ago. I have since tried, with no success, to undo that. Therefore, I did this ‘training’ during the day. The expectation, and the intent, was to induce a short-term result. Before the training started, I wore the sensor in ‘Diaper monitor’ mode, where it just tracked my output during the day, for two days so I could get a baseline as an experimental control. I didn’t try to use the diaper any more or less than I would have if I was just wearing around the house for fun. I didn't wear the device at night, hence the gap in the data while I was sleeping. For the first two days of the training, the aggressiveness was set low, so the target times were fairly long (about 75 min, a little less than the max from the control period), and the probability of a penalty shock was pretty low. The next three days decreased the average target time from 60 minutes down to 45 minutes, ramped the probability of a penalty, and decreased the probability of a reminder. The probability of a Penalty, or a Punishment, shock started ramping. By the last few days, the target was under 30 minutes, and the penalty for exceeding that started going up. The time interval between wettings (the purple dots) definitely dropped over the week. This happened while I was working from home during the week and hanging out over a weekend, so my mind was not always focused on this… there are exceptions, but in general I started wetting smaller bursts, more often. Both the number of reminders and penalties dropped over time… I didn’t need to be reminded to wet, eventually. Reminders show up on the graph as green triangles, Penalties as Yellow, and Punishments as red. The test: On the last day (Saturday 9/14) I wore the device in the morning, and then after lunch decided it was time to take the test. I put on regular underwear and shorts and went for a walk on a mostly-private trail behind my house. Within 10 minutes I had wet my shorts without thinking. Over the course of the afternoon I had a few more true accidents. Sometimes I had a short panic that I hadn’t wet myself recently and would be shocked soon, only to realize that I needed to change my shorts again. A couple of times I saw that my shorts were wet and ddidn't remember how they got that way. After about four hours I gave up and put a diaper on so I could be somewhat sanitary while making dinner, and I proceeded to wet without much thought until bedtime. Anytime I felt an itch, which felt like the reminder shock, I found myself wetting almost immediately. The next day (Sunday) I tried underwear again. I had a couple of accidents in the morning and hurried to the toilet quite a few times, but by the end of the day I was “mostly” normal. Monday I was mostly back to normal. I fought a few “itch->wet” reactions, but didn’t have any accidents. Conclusion: This kind of behavioral modification clearly works, at least for me. In the context of the story, the protagonist only had one day after wearing the trainer, and in this experiment I definitely had several legitimate accidents after stopping the training. I was wetting without thinking, to the point where I gave up and put a diaper on. I was still affected a day after that. I’d hypothesize that a few more days, or weeks, of this training would effectively nullify toilet training. I do not plan to test that, though. I’m considering using the mechanism to cure my bed wetting. I think it would work. I’m not sure what I really want there, though, so I haven’t moved forward on that. Before anyone asks, no, I don’t plan to share schematics or code. I was zapping myself with a shock collar, and I’m not sure I want to be responsible for someone misusing it on themselves or, worse, others. I think I gave enough information for someone “skilled in the art” to figure it out for themselves, and I plan to leave it at that.

Greg is... not the most aware individual. Particularly before the third or fourth coffee has set in. There is a little more development in subsequent chapters about why he might me missing things here. To give you a sneak peek, here are the first two paragraphs of the next chapter.... (They might change a little in editing before release, but I think they might help you see his mindset...) I waited three days before I relaxed in Abby’s bed again, feeling the warmth puddle under me. I didn’t really have a good plan, just a deep need. I remembered the comfort and security of wearing a diaper to bed as a child, and the mental anguish of when my parents had declared me “too old” for diapers and decided I shouldn’t wear them anymore. I remembered the years of shameful wet beds and cold wet winter mornings, wishing for the warm embrace of a wet diaper under my pajamas until my bedwetting had finally dribbled to a stop during late puberty. I remembered the surprise I felt I had felt when I had re-discovered how I felt about wearing diapers in college just a few months before meeting Emily, and then quickly swearing off them so that I could be with the really hot and amazing chick I had met and somehow, despite her being way, way out of my league, I ended up marrying. Maybe now I could reach out for that comfort and security to dig me out of the hole I was in. I couldn’t just tell Emily though. I knew that for a fact. She had reacted with such disgust and revulsion the first, and only, time I had mentioned liking to wear a diaper to her. I’m sure she had long forgotten that afternoon. She had never brought it up again and hey, she had married me and stuck with me for more than twenty years. But now, maybe, if she thought I needed them maybe she’d be more accepting. It wasn’t a great plan, but plans devised when one-third awake, and one-half drunk, rarely are. So here I was, lying in a rapidly cooling wet spot on a plastic sheet in my daughter’s room.

Chapter 5: Morning I woke up to the pale light of dawn filtering through the curtains, a dull headache already forming at my temples. The events of the previous night came rushing back with a clarity that made me wince. What had started as a petty, still-inebriated act of defiance had turned into a mess I wasn't prepared to handle, physically or emotionally. Lying there, the cold damp sheets clinging to my skin, I couldn't help but feel a wave of regret. "Good job," I muttered to myself. "You've officially outdone yourself in the stupidity department. You REALLY need to stop drinking." I sat up, the mattress protector crinkling beneath me, the cold wet sheets wrapped around me a reminder of my childish decision. I gathered the sheets, trying to ignore the clammy sensation against my skin, and made my way to the laundry room. The house was still quiet, Emily likely still asleep. I hoped to get everything cleaned up before she woke up, to avoid the inevitable confrontation. Here I was, a grown man, reduced to sneaking around my own house like a teenager trying to cover up a party gone wrong. The washing machine loomed before me like an alien contraption. I fumbled with the settings, trying to recall Emily’s preferred settings for colored sheets. Failing getting a specific type of wash going, I pressed random buttons in a futile attempt to start the machine. Laundry before coffee is not something that should be legal. The door creaked open behind me, and I froze like a guilty child caught with his hand in the cookie jar. Emily stood in the doorway, her expression a mix of surprise and something else I couldn't quite place. "Greg?" she asked, her voice soft but steady. "What are you doing up so early?" I turned to face her, trying to muster a nonchalant smile. "Just thought I'd get a head start on the laundry," I said, my voice betraying the lie. Emily's gaze shifted to the sheets, then back to me. Then to the wet pajama bottoms I was still wearing. Understanding dawned in her eyes, then a flicker of amusement crossed her face before she met my eyes, and I braced myself for the inevitable lecture. But instead, she simply sighed and stepped into the laundry room. She looked like she wanted to give me a hug, then thought better of it when she considered what I was wearing. "It's okay," she said gently, obviously trying to keep her voice neutral. "These things happen." I blinked, caught off guard by her unexpected kindness. "You're not... upset?" Emily paused, considering, and then shook her head, a small, reassuring smile on her lips. "No, Greg. I'm not upset. I'm worried. You've been under a lot of stress, and it's taking a toll on you." I looked down, ashamed. "I didn't mean for it to get this bad. I just... I don't know how to handle all this. Abby leaving, the empty house... us." Emily reached out, placing a comforting hand on my shoulder. "I know. And I should have been more supportive. But you need to let me in, Greg. We need to face this together." I nodded, feeling the weight of her words settle over me. "I want to change, Em. I really do." She squeezed my shoulder, then turned to the washing machine. "You should put your pajamas in there as well…" “But…” I started to say, but I stopped when Emily’s eyebrow rose. Yeah, the pajamas should be in the machine, and walking back to the shower buck-naked in the empty house was really no more embarrassing than doing it in pee-soaked pajamas. I sighed, dropped my pajamas and underwear, and tossed them into the machine with the shirts. Emily handed me a towel from the stack by the machine to cover up, which was an even better idea than walking back naked. "Why don't you get cleaned up? I'll take care of this." Emily pressed a few buttons and the machine made its ding-dong-ding signal that it was starting. I hesitated, then nodded, grateful for her understanding. "Thanks, Em." Later, as I stood under the warm spray of the shower, I let the water wash away the remnants of the night. I thought about Emily and the years we'd spent building a life together, and how I didn't want to let that slip away. It didn’t take a genius to understand that doing stupid things like wetting the bed out of spite was probably not a winning move. By the time I emerged, dressed and feeling more like myself, Emily had finished with the laundry. She was waiting in the kitchen, a cup of coffee in each hand. "Here," she said, handing me one. "I bet you could use this." Uh-yup. Chapter 6: Thick as a Brick The sun had risen enough to shine its direct light through the kitchen window, lighting the table where Emily and I sat with our coffee. I blinked as I sat, my eyes slowly adjusting. The events of the previous night were still fresh in my mind, and I felt a knot of anxiety in my stomach as I anticipated the conversation that was bound to happen. Emily took a sip from her mug, her eyes searching mine. I could feel her weighing her words, trying to find the right way to broach the subject. "So," she began, her voice gentle but direct, "about last night... Was it on purpose?" That was not the opening I had expected, and the approach I had planned in the shower had no answers to that. I hesitated, the truth hovering like a beautiful hummingbird on the tip of my tongue. My deeply-rooted sense of marital preservation gave the hummingbird-truth a horrified look, took it out back, beat it senseless, stuffed it in a dark hole, and then blurted out, “Of course not! Why would you think I wet the bed on purpose?” "It's okay, Greg," she said, an amused look in her eye. "I know things have been tough, and sometimes… unexpected things happen. It’s okay." I looked down at my coffee, feeling a mix of shame and relief. "I was just... drunk and… I don’t know." Emily reached across the table, her hand warm and steady on mine. "We all have our… needs," she said softly. "The important thing is that you're willing to acknowledge them so we can work through them together." I nodded, the knot in my stomach loosening a bit. "I am. I want to work through this, Em. I want to stop drinking. I want to reconnect with you." Her smile widened, a genuine expression of hope and understanding. "Good. Because I want that too. We've been through so much together, Greg. I don't want to lose what we have." I squeezed her hand, the familiar comfort of her presence grounding me. "Neither do I. I know I've been difficult, and I've pushed you away, but I want to change. I want us to be... us again." Emily nodded, acknowledging me. We sat there for a moment. "You know," Emily said, breaking the silence with a thoughtful look, "I miss having someone need me. Abby's off living her own life now, and maybe... maybe you could help fill that role, if you're willing." I blinked, surprised by her admission. "What do you mean?" She laughed softly. "I mean, I think you need some structure and accountability in your life right now. You’ve kind of fallen off the deep end. And I think I need someone to provide structure and accountability for. It would help me feel better too. I need a project." I nodded, thinking that I understood what she meant. "I can do that. It would be good to have some help not having that next beer." Emily's smile was warm, her eyes filled with a renewed sense of connection. She reached over and laid her hand on mine. Her loving touch was soft, electric, caring, and possessive, all at once. She paused and we just looked at each other for a minute. With an amused little smile, but not breaking eye contact, Emily spoke first. "Yes, I think I can help you get your drinking under control… I think you do need some help there. Remember, when Abby was younger and she wet the bed, we tried putting those rules and consequences in place?” I nodded and laughed a little. “Yeah, that was pretty stupid, really. She did NOT respond to that well.” Emily smiled. “Yeah, that didn’t work at all for Abby. But you had said that they were based on rules that you had growing up. Right?” I paused. “Um.” “Maybe we can come up with something similar for us. Not as a punishment, but as a way to keep each other accountable." I considered her words, the idea of structure and accountability appealing in a way I hadn't expected. "I think that's a good idea," I said. "We could both use a little structure in our lives right now. But I’m guessing when you say, ‘us’, you mean, ‘me’." Emily smiled. “Well, yeah. I mean, the rules should be for both of us, because that’s fair. But yeah, I think they will apply mostly to you.” I grimaced. “Um.” Just what I wanted was for her to be counting every beer. “Well, I think I might still know where a copy of that is. Maybe we can use some of the ideas from it. Let’s talk more about it this evening.” As we finished our coffee, the conversation shifted to lighter topics, a sense of normalcy returning to our interactions. We talked about Abby and her classes, Emily filling me in on the latest news that she had heard, compared to what she told me, which was, roughly, “Not much is new, Dad.” We discussed plans for the weekend and ideas for projects around the house. It felt good, this easy back-and-forth, the rhythm of a partnership being rediscovered. When the mugs were empty and the morning had fully settled in, Emily stood and stretched, a contented sigh escaping her lips. "I should get ready for the day," she said, but there was no rush in her movements, no urgency to leave the moment. I nodded, feeling a warmth spreading through me that had nothing to do with the coffee. "I'll take care of the dishes." Emily paused with her hand resting on my shoulder as she passed by. "Thank you, Greg. For being willing to talk about this." I looked up at her, gratitude and affection swelling in my chest. "Thank you, Em. For understanding. For not giving up on me." She leaned down, pressing a soft kiss to my forehead. "Never," she murmured, and then she was gone, leaving me with the lingering warmth of her touch and the promise of a fresh start. As I cleared the table, an ember of my soul that had been repressed for twenty years had just gotten some oxygen. I hadn’t forgotten it, per se, but by an immense act of will, and love for Emily, I had boxed it up and stuffed it into the back of my mind. Over more than twenty years of happy and fulfilling marriage and family, that ember had smoldered, but last night had burst back to life. I knew what I wanted. I just needed to figure out how to get it. I felt a little guilty, scheming in my mind to mislead my wife, but it was a heck of a lot better than ruining our relationship by getting drunk every night. Right?

To make it easy, the sensor is running at the esp rail level... 3.3V. This makes it directly measurable by the esp's ADC. The 'shocking thing' is indeed electrical and is putting out some pretty serious voltage. But, that potential is between the two poles, near the root of the penis where it has the desired effect. The sensor is several inches away, and the distance between the two wires is a few mm, and not touching skin. There should be no meaningful potential between the two sensor wires caused by the shock unit. Also, the shock unit and the esp don't share a ground plane, so there shouldn't be random ground currents or anything either. That said, it's been more than five days and there haven't been any problems... I should use this for the obvious warning: This is playing with electricity on your body, and the shocks are automated. If you don't understand exactly what you're doing, don't do it. In fact, in general, you shouldn't do this. ELECTRICITY CAN BE DANGEROUS It also seems likely to really mess with your toilet training. If you are not OK with the implications of that, do this.

EDIT TO ADD: This is playing with electricity on your body, and the shocks are automated. If you don't understand exactly what you're doing, don't do it. In fact, in general, you shouldn't do this. ELECTRICITY CAN BE DANGEROUS It also seems likely to really mess with your toilet training. If you are not OK with the implications of that, do this. I've taken a more direct route. As I mentioned above, I have an Arduino micro running, and I was looking for a good sensor. What I've settled on is simple... The bare ends of two wires are inserted into a slice of the barrel of a pen and glued there. The sliced pen barrel is inserted into the end of a condom cath to hold it in place. The sensor works great. The resistance drops significantly. The open ADC value is reads at 1000-1200 given the resistors I'm using to pull-up, and 10-30 during wetting. One problem I had was the condom cath bunch up; I put it in a too-big chastity cage to help keep it from kinking, and that works well. The accuracy has been very good. It accurately detects when wetting starts and stops. It never misses a wetting, but sometimes if the diaper is very wet and the pee doesn't flow out easily it will take a while to register the fact that wetting has stopped. This isn't a big deal. The esp32, the 433MHz xmitter, and the connection to the sensor have been put on a small project board and stuck in a project case. I can wear it on a belt on my waist. The program running on the esp32 is a training routine that I completely guessed at. The general idea is that there is a target time for wetting, such as 30 minutes. As the target time approaches there is a probability of a reminder (a beep) or a warning (a minimum-level shock that feels like an itch). After the target time, there is an increasing probability of a 'failure' shock, which is very uncomfortable and I definitely want to avoid. There is also a small, but increasing, probability of a 'punishment', which is a longer series of shocks that I truly want to avoid. As training progresses and the trainee is wetting before the warnings and reminders, the 'level' increases, meaning there is a decreasing probability of a reminder before the shock or punishment. Everything is randomized within the parameters so that the trainee is not being trained to an exact time. The esp communicates via MQTT with OpenHab, which allows me to control the training and to get stats and such. Just because I can, through OpenHab it interfaces with Alexa and GoogleHome, so someone can say "..., Turn [JustForFun] Diaper Shock On", as if it was a light, and I get a shock. I also turn the Hue light in my office yellow when I'm wetting. Because I can. For the last 5 days, I've been using this to see what happens. I was curious how accurate the psychological parts of my story "The Trainer" are... and the answer is that it's surprising how effective this thing is. Looking at the statistics over the last five days, there has been a lot more 'wetting-before-warning'. One interesting thing is that the warning shock feels like an itch, so I find myself peeing when I have an itch, even if it wasn't actually a warning. Interesting. I'm getting a little worried about the effectiveness of this, so I'm debating if I should stop. I trained myself into bedwetting a long time ago and have some regrets about that, so while daytime incontinence is a nice fantasy, and it's an interesting engineering and psychological exercise to see if it's possible to cause it in the way I wrote about, I'm pretty sure I don't really want it. On the other hand, the though has occurred to me that I might be able to use this to stop my night bedwetting. That's... an interesting though. While I intellectually would like to do so, I'm not sure I really want to. That's another can of worms.

Chapter 4: Falling Down I stared at the ceiling of Abby's old room, the glow-in-the-dark stars she'd stuck up there years ago were now faded and peeling. The house creaked around me, every sound amplified in the emptiness. I reached for my beer on the nightstand, grimacing as I realized it was empty. Again. As September drew to a close, the leaves outside were beginning to change color and fall from the trees, mirroring the changes happening in our household. How had it come to this? I was exiled to my daughter's childhood bedroom, drowning my sorrows in cheap beer while my wife slept alone down the hall. I closed my eyes, trying to ignore the dull throb in my temples and the gnawing emptiness in my chest. The first few weeks after Abby left for college had been... challenging. Emily and I had tried to keep busy, to focus on the positives. "Think of all the time we'll have for ourselves," she'd said, a forced cheeriness in her voice. But as the days wore on, the silence in the house became oppressive. I started having a beer or two in the evenings to take the edge off. Just to help me sleep, I told myself. But two became four, became six, and soon I was stumbling to bed most nights, much to Emily's growing frustration. "Greg," she'd say, her voice tight with barely contained anger, "it's 3 AM. Can you please try not to wake the entire neighborhood?" I'd mumble an apology, knowing full well I'd do it again the next night. And the next. And the next. The fact that I worked from home just enabled the situation, as I had no reason to get out of the house or to be any more presentable than was required for a videoconference. My commute was a morning stumble down the hall to my office, and then an afternoon stumble from my office to the refrigerator. The bathroom trips were the worst. I'd wake up every couple of hours, bladder painfully full, and stumble to the toilet. Each time, I'd feel Emily's disapproving gaze burning into my back as I returned to bed. One particularly bad night, after I'd tripped over the laundry basket for the third time, Emily sat up in bed, flicking on the lamp. The sudden light made me wince. "That's it," she said, her voice cold and final. "I can't do this anymore, Greg. If you're going to act like a child, you can sleep in a child's room." "What?" I blinked at her, my alcohol-addled brain struggling to keep up. "You heard me," Emily continued, pointing towards the door. "Go sleep in Abby's room. At least there, your constant bathroom trips won't keep me up all night." I wanted to argue, to defend myself, but the words wouldn't come. Instead, I grabbed my pillow and shuffled out of our bedroom, feeling every bit the chastised child Emily was treating me as. That was three nights ago. Three nights of tossing and turning in Abby's bed, which she claimed to be too small for her but more than big enough for me, surrounded by the remnants of her childhood. Three nights of Emily's silence at breakfast, her disappointment palpable across the kitchen table. The mattress protector crinkled beneath me with every movement, a constant reminder of my fall from grace. I was exiled to my daughter's room while I acted like a sullen teenager myself. I couldn't help but chuckle darkly at the symbolism. Here I was, a grown man lying on a bed meant to protect against accidents, while I pissed away my marriage one beer at a time. "You've really outdone yourself this time, Greg," I muttered to the glow-in-the-dark stars on the ceiling. They stared back, unimpressed. I heard Emily's footsteps in the hallway and held my breath, hoping she'd pass by. No such luck. She appeared in the doorway, her face a mask of disappointment and frustration. "I see you're hard at work solving the world's problems," she said, her voice dripping with sarcasm. I raised my beer in a mock toast. "Just doing my part to support the local brewery. Someone's got to keep the economy going." Emily's eyes narrowed. "And I suppose your liver is just collateral damage?" "Hey, I'm nothing if not self-sacrificing," I shot back, taking another swig. She shook her head, a mix of anger and sadness in her eyes. "You know, Greg, when I imagined us as empty nesters, this wasn't quite what I had in mind. I thought we'd travel, take up new hobbies. Instead, I'm living with an immature child again, only this time he's balding and can legally buy alcohol." Her words stung, but I was too far gone to care. "Well, surprise! Life's full of disappointments. At least I'm consistent." Emily's shoulders sagged. "I don't even know who you are anymore, Greg. The man I married wouldn't... wouldn't do this to himself. To us." The door slammed behind her, leaving me alone with my thoughts and the ever-present crinkle of the mattress cover. I thought about Abby, probably sleeping soundly in her dorm room. Her mattress protector was silent, adult – a symbol of her growth and independence. Meanwhile, here I was, her father, reduced to sleeping on a bed that crinkled with every move. The nights stretched on, each one a carbon copy of the last. Drink, stumble, crinkle, repeat. Emily's attempts to reach me grew less frequent, her patience wearing thin. One particularly bad night, after I'd tripped over a pile of Abby's old stuffed animals for the third time on my way to the bathroom, I caught sight of myself in her mirror. The man staring back at me was a stranger - bloated, bleary-eyed, with a scraggly beard that would make a hobo proud. "Well, well, well," I slurred at my reflection. "If it isn't Father of the Year. Tell me, Greg, how does it feel to be living proof that evolution can go in reverse?" The reflection didn't answer, but the stuffed animals seemed to judge me silently from their perches on the shelves. "Oh, don't look at me like that," I grumbled at a particularly judgmental-looking teddy bear. "You try dealing with an empty house and a wife who looks at you like you're something she scraped off her shoe." I stumbled back to bed, the mattress protector crinkling loudly in protest. As I lay there, staring at the ceiling, I couldn't help but wonder how I'd ended up here. When had I become this person? This sad, pathetic excuse for a husband? After another hour of staring at the stars on the ceiling, I felt I needed to pee. Again. Screw this. If she’s going to treat me as a child, then she can deal with it. Old yearnings and needs not fully explored or met, slowly rose from the hidden depths where they had been stashed. Something that I needed. Something needed to break the cycle. Something that wanted to push back against, well, everything. So I released my bladder. It felt warm, evoking hidden memories from my childhood. It was somehow familiar and comfortable. I fell asleep.

On this side of the pond, in this context a loft is a piece of furniture used in dorm rooms to elevate the mattress and give more room for a desk and other things. https://images.app.goo.gl/Ubj5Bh2tuZNvSEZN9 It also might be taken as a literary device to symbolize one person rising above another. 😁

Glad it's relevant to you. 😀 I have a bunch more chapters written exploring what happens next, but am trying to decide where to take it after that. There's the 'keep it realistic and explore a real-world dynamic', and then there's 'ABDL fantasy he's in diapers and helpless in a week.' With a lot of middle ground, of course. I keep finding myself slipping into the second, because the trope is easy. The moment he loses agency it gets boring and fappish, though, and I find myself needing to undo a lot of work. I'm trying to convince myself that I should take the first road, even though it's more difficult write... I like these characters and this setting, and the fact that they are based on real people in a real situation helps keep them grounded. I want to treat them well. I have a few chapters sketched out in each direction. I'm not the best writer by a long shot, so the idea of somehow finding an ideal middle ground sounds good but I'm not sure I'd be able to carry it off like some others could. Thanks for reading and your feedback! -j4f

Chapter 3: Stepping Out I stood in front of the hallway mirror, adjusting a button-down shirt I hadn’t worn in a very long time. The house felt eerily quiet without Abby's music or the constant buzz of her phone notifications. Emily appeared behind me, already dressed in a sleek black dress that made her look years younger. "Here, let me help you with that," she said, adjusting the collar of my shirt, straightening the back and settling the wayward collar points into place. I hesitated, torn between accepting her help and asserting my independence. "I've got it, Em," I said, perhaps a bit too sharply. She raised an eyebrow but stepped back. "Jeez, relax. Just trying to help." I immediately felt a pang of guilt. "Sorry, I just... I can do it." Emily smiled softly, that motherly look in her eyes that both comforted and frustrated me. "I know you can, honey. You ready to go?" As we stepped out into the warm evening air, I couldn't help but feel a mix of excitement and apprehension. This was our first real night out as empty nesters, a chance to rediscover ourselves as a couple rather than just parents. The restaurant was one of those trendy new places downtown, all exposed brick and Edison bulbs. As we settled into our seats, I couldn't help but feel slightly out of place. The other diners seemed younger, hipper, more at ease in this environment. “Well, this is... nice," I said, trying to sound more confident than I felt. Emily reached across the table, patting my hand. "It's okay if you're not comfortable, Greg. We can go somewhere else if you'd prefer." I bristled slightly at her tone. There it was again, that hint of motherly concern that both soothed and irked me. "No, no, this is fine," I insisted. "I'm just saying, it's been a while since we've been out like this." We perused the menu, filled with items I could barely pronounce. "Quinoa? Acai? When did food start sounding like incantations?" I mused. “I think these were spells in Abby’s boy wizard books.” Emily chuckled, but I caught a hint of exasperation in her voice. "It's called being cultured, Greg. Here, let me help you pick something." As she leaned over to point out dishes on my menu, I found myself torn between appreciating her help and wanting to assert my independence. I was a grown man, for crying out loud. I could order my own damn dinner. The waiter approached, a young man with carefully styled hair and a hipster beard. "Good evening, folks. Can I start you off with some drinks?" I glanced at Emily, raising an eyebrow. "What do you say, Em? Shall we live dangerously?" She hesitated for a moment before nodding. "Sure, why not? It's not like we have to rush home to relieve the babysitter anymore." As the evening progressed, we laughed and talked, sharing stories and dreams. On the surface, it was everything I had hoped our first night as empty nesters would be. But underneath, I couldn't shake the feeling that we were both trying too hard, performing the roles of a carefree couple rather than truly inhabiting them. Midway through the meal, I shifted uncomfortably in my seat. The beer was going right through me, and I was debating whether to excuse myself to the restroom. Emily, ever observant, noticed my discomfort. "Greg, honey, are you okay?" she asked, her voice laced with concern. I nodded, trying to play it cool. "Yeah, I'm fine. Just... you know." Emily leaned in, lowering her voice. "Do you need to use the restroom?" I felt my face flush with embarrassment. "Emily!" I hissed, glancing around to see if anyone had overheard. "I'm not five years old. I can handle my own... bathroom needs." She held up her hands defensively. "I'm just trying to help. You looked uncomfortable." I stood up abruptly, my chair scraping loudly against the floor. "Excuse me," I muttered, making my way to the restroom. As I stood at the urinal, I couldn't help but feel a mix of emotions. On one hand, Emily's concern was touching. She cared about me and wanted to make sure I was comfortable. But on the other hand, her motherly tone made me feel small. I was her husband, not her child. Didn't she see that? When I returned to the table, Emily was sipping her wine, a look of concern on her face. "Everything okay?" she asked. I nodded, forcing a smile. "All good, babe. Now, where were we?" As the night wore on, I found myself increasingly aware of the dichotomy in our relationship. Emily's nurturing nature, which had been such a comfort during our years of parenting, now felt stifling when it was directed full blast at me with no Abby to roll her eyes and deflect it. Yet part of me craved that affirmation, that unconditional love she offered so freely. We finished our meal and stepped out into the warm night air. Emily linked her arm through mine, and I felt a surge of conflicting emotions - love, frustration, comfort, and a desperate desire to be seen as the man I wanted to be, not the child she sometimes treated me as. "This was nice," Emily said, leaning her head on my shoulder. "We should do it more often." I nodded, not trusting myself to speak. How could I explain the turmoil inside me? How could I tell her that I loved her motherly nature but also resented it? That I wanted her to see me as an equal, a partner, not someone to be coddled and cared for? As we walked to the car, I made a silent vow to myself. I would find a way to bridge this gap, to be the strong, capable man I knew I could be while still accepting the love and care Emily offered. It wouldn't be easy, and it wouldn't happen overnight. But for the sake of our relationship, for the sake of this new chapter in our lives, I had to try. As we drove home, the silence between us felt different - not uncomfortable, but full of potential. "Ready for bed?" Emily asked, stifling a yawn. I nodded, squeezing her hand, my hopes that 'bed' meant what I thought it meant clear on my face and in my voice. With a smile I replied, "Lead the way."

This story hasn’t told me its title yet. Still working on it, much like the story. I’ve been messing around with this quite a bit, but I think I’d like to put the first part out there to gauge reaction. This story is, of course, fiction. The inspiration for this story is a real-life friend, going through a difficult time in his life, and some things he confided in me as he tried to figure his life out. He is one of the very, very few people that know I wet the bed and wear diapers. Chapter 1: Prelude Where the hell was that old cookware set? Emily remembered throwing it down here when they moved in, but the pile of cardboard boxes that had stayed untouched in the back corner of the basement for the last twenty years was hiding it well. A random box of her old college supplies, mixed in among so much other crap that they had promised to “get to” every spring since they had gotten married, bought their house, raised their daughter… it had been untouched for so long that now maybe Abby could make use of it as she moved into the dorm next month. Pushing aside boxes and digging deeper, she saw an old suitcase. It was Greg’s, stickers from his European travels during college still plastered to the outside. Attempting to move it aside, it was surprisingly heavy, and especially awkward as the plastic wheels fell apart from decay. Curious, and her immediate quest momentarily forgotten, she pulled the suitcase out. Popping the latches she opened it. Emily's fingers trembled as she lifted the first diaper from the suitcase, its plastic crinkled softly in the musty basement air. The flood of memories threatened to overwhelm her, but she forced herself to breathe deeply, steadying her racing heart. She glanced towards the basement stairs, half-expecting to hear Greg’s footsteps, but the house remained silent. It was twenty-four years ago, back when they were just getting to know each other. They were sitting on the porch of his college apartment one warm summer evening, sipping an illicit glass of wine, when Greg had casually mentioned that he found comfort in wearing diapers. Emily had felt a strange mix of disbelief and concern swirling inside her. She didn’t know what to do with it. She remembered her dismissive reaction, laughing it off, saying it was just a phase. Greg had not brought it up again, and the conversation quickly moved on, aided by the still-new feeling of a little bit too much alcohol. Little did she know, that moment would embed itself in her mind, a memory she would suppress for more than two decades as they built their life and family together. Chapter 2: Moving Pictures “Dad, be careful! A little more left! Ok, up now… wait! Hold it there!” I grunted as the weight shifted above me. Getting the loft up three flights of stairs was not supposed to be happening in 100-degree weather, but “someone” hadn’t considered the size of the elevator when I agreed that a loft in the college dorm room was a good idea. That “someone” was now on the bottom end of three people trying to lift the heavy and awkward wooden structure up the twisting, unairconditioned stairs as the two people above me tried to learn geometry. This was not working. Emily's calm voice cut through the tension. "Greg, breathe. We're almost there." Her steady presence, even in this chaos, reminded me why we'd been a team for so long. Her tall body, fit from years of running, was as wet with sweat as I was as she pulled the top of the loft forward. She tried to blow a loose strand of her brunette hair that had escaped from the ponytail off her face, but it fell right back over her nose. I gritted my teeth, suppressing a sarcastic retort. This was Abby's big day, after all. Instead, I managed to wheeze out, “You need to move the top towards the center and hold it so I can rotate my part around, “ I grunted. “Just like we did every f-ing half-floor below,” I continued under my breath, gritting my teeth. Finally, with a grunt and shove, and a little institutional-gray wall paint rubbed onto the stained wood, the loft made it to the top landing. “It’s going out of here through the window.” I was exhausted. This was the last piece, joining the boxes and suitcases and other loft parts that had made it up the elevator. With all the freshmen moving in, the car was parked far away across hot blacktop. “You owe me a beer.” “I can’t buy you a beer yet, Dad.” “It’s college, you’ll figure it out.” Abby gave a rare laugh, her I’m-A-Serious-College-Student demeanor that she had been cultivating seemingly since she was twelve cracking a little, and some of the fun-loving little girl that I knew was hiding in there, hidden from her parents during her teen years, showed through. Between Emily, Abby, and I, we managed to heave the loft down the hallway and into her room. I finally got a chance to sit down and rest. Emily, ever practical, was already moving on. “Alright, let’s get the loft together and get you situated. Our dinner reservation is in two hours, and we have a lot of work here…” Always the one in control, Emily cut my break short, gesturing at the loft and the pile of boxes. “Dad and I will get the loft together while you start putting stuff away, OK? That way you know where everything is.” Abby and I nodded, used to following Emily’s lead. I found the bag of bolts and began assembling the legs and supports for the loft. Soon we were all lifting the bed into place and the mattress from the college-supplied bed was on top, the metal frame broken down and shoved to the back of the closet to be replaced in the spring. The loft loomed large in the small space, a towering structure that seemed to embody Abby's transition into adulthood. "Well, that's the last of it," I panted, wiping sweat from my brow. "Your very own adult-sized treehouse, kiddo. Don’t fall out." I gave her a little smirk. “It’s OK, Dad, I’ll get the sheets.” While Abby didn’t actively tease me about my small stature anymore, she did still enjoy getting in a jab now and then to point out her twelve-inch height advantage on me. An all-star middle on the volleyball team, she had definitely gotten her mom’s genes. “Here, put this on first.” Emily reached into one of the boxes and pulled out a white square. Pulling it from the package Emily handed Abby the waterproof mattress cover. “You can just say that it’s because the mattress was yucky, or bedbugs, or whatever.” Abby hesitated and then reached for the cover. A flash of understanding passed between mother and daughter. Abby felt the mattress cover, flexing it a little. It was smooth, but not crinkly. She quickly reached up much easier than I could have to slip the protective sheet on the mattress, and then hurriedly grabbed a fitted sheet and covered it. “Thanks, Mom,” Abby said quickly in a quiet voice, turning to put more things away. I didn’t say anything, but I was a little surprised. I thought Abby’s ‘night problems’ had stopped some time ago. Maybe they hadn’t. It wasn’t something I talked to my 18-year-old daughter about; that was between her and her mother. The rest of the afternoon was a blur. Unpacking, getting set, finding the dining hall, confirming that the student passes worked, barely making our dinner reservation, and then the goodbyes where everyone pretended that they weren’t crying as they gave quick hugs and kisses and went their separate ways. As Emily and I drove home, the car felt emptier than it ever had. Emily reached over and took my hand, her touch grounding me. Four hours later, Emily and I crashed into our bed, exhausted. The house seemed empty, even emptier than when Abby had been away at summer camp for a few weeks. Emily pulled me in close, and I cuddled into the little-spoon position, feeling her ample breasts comfortably on my back as her arm over the top held me firmly. Within minutes we were both asleep.

I've been working on a similar thing, and stuck at the wetting sensing part. My set up right now: An ESP32 connected to a 433MHz transmitter Battery powered, in a small waterproof box on a strap around my waist A lead that goes to a sensor that is supposed to detect wetting... "wetting occurred" signal The ESP32 connects via MQTT to my home OpenHab for control 433MHz Shock collar. I find the best place to wear it is on a waist strap (same one the ESP32 is mounted on) which holds it right over my bladder or so The esp32 listens to MQTT commands. When put in "Diaper Training Mode", it is looking for the "wetting occurred" signal. If it doesn't see it in the expected amount of time, it issues reminders (beep, then lowest level shock, then stronger shocks...). I find that the lowest level shocks feel like an itch, the strongest shocks really suck. When a wetting is detected, the timer is reset. The 'wetting occurred' part is the hard part, as others on the thread have noted. My original try was a homemade sensor that had some wires on each side, separated by some fiberglass window screen, held in place by a chastity cage, connected to an A2D pin. The intent was that wetting would close the circuit... which it does... but then the liquid stays there. I need to figure out how to get it to 'reset' so that each wetting event can be detected as it happens... I think if I can find something strongly hydrophobic to use as the separator it might work. At the moment I'm using a manual input to indicate when I wet, which resets the timer, which means I need to be aware of when I'm wetting. Not ideal, of course.

When I was training myself back to sleep-wetting 25-ish years ago, at some point I realized that it wasn't just "bed wetting", but I would wet anytime I slept. While this did provide something of a thrill, the reality was a little more challenging as I was traveling for work a lot at the time. I was discovering the difference between being able to choose to wear occasionally when I wanted to, and being essentially required to wear even when it wasn't convenient. It was a learning experience as I needed to figure out how to wear effective protection discreetly, and this was in the very early 2000's when the options and information were a lot more limited. One time I remember vividly was on a flight with a co-worker. It was a late night flight about 6 hours long, and I knew there would be a good chance I'd fall asleep, and if I fell asleep there was a possibility I'd wet. So, I put on a diaper before getting on the flight (maybe an Attends at the time? Molicare? Don't remember, but it was a plastic backed diaper.) I did fall asleep, and I did wet. When we were de-planing, I was still a little zonked, and my co-worker whispered, "your underwear is showing." I remember reaching back and feeling a strip of plastic. When I reached up to get my carry-on, my T-shirt must have risen up and then gotten caught on the waist-band. Needless to say, I remember being mortified, especially being in my 20's with a female co-worker also in her 20's... I remember this because after we de-planed, she looked like she wanted to say something, while I just wanted to go hide or ignore it. Just before we went our separate ways, she finally told me, "Don't worry, my brother has the same problem. I'm not going to say anything." I don't think I said anything in return. She transferred to a different location not long after that, so it never came up again, at least that I knew of. I'm sure there were other cases where there was a diaper flash that have been forgotten or blocked from my mind, as it took me some time to figure out how to be more reliably discreet and find things like the onesies to help hide things. That one sticks in my memory though.

This was my first time entering a contest like this as well, so being recognized was a very pleasant surprise! Thank you for putting this together, @kasarberang! I have requested that the award be donated to Daily Diapers, which also deserves our thanks and support.

Hi @Babypants, I really appreciate that you've read and commented on this. [edited to remove drunken screed] Anyway, thank you all for listening to my rant. Try a proper Dark and Stormy. I think I will see if the next one is still as good. I'm done. Here are the additional endings. Do with them as you wish. Epilogue B - A Redemption Six weeks later, Abby returned. Life had changed. Jenn and I were on the nursing couch when I heard the door open and Jenn gave a “Shh….” to the new arrival. “Hu isch ut?” I tried to ask around Jenn’s nipple. My view was obstructed by the light blanket she had placed over my head to keep me from trying to see her phone as she browsed during my feeding. Her breasts were much larger now, engorged with milk that was now a substantial part of my diet. I went back to the wave rhythm with my tongue and I felt her give a little quiver, and her milk came strongly into my mouth. “Hi, Abby. C’mon in. We’re feeding,” Jenn said a little breathlessly as the mini-orgasm of the let-down flowed through her. “I can see that. Wow, your boobs look even bigger in real life than in the pictures you sent. Nice!” “Yeah, I guess that this is one good thing that came out of this.” “What do you mean?” Abby asked. “Things aren’t good?” “Well, this has been harder than I thought. I shouldn’t have let you convince me to do this. Why did you do it?” “Oh c’mon, Jenn. He deserves it. He’s such a pathetic little baby. As a doctor, I help people all day, and this is just another kind of help. He needed this. You needed him to need you.” “Well, you put those balls in his feet, right? So now I have to carry him.” “Of course I put the balls in his feet, otherwise he’d be able to run away. This way he’s harmless.” “And you were the one who wanted to make him incontinent.” Jenn’s voice was quiet, regretful. “Well, yeah, I mean, he’s a baby. Babies use their diapers. Hence, roto-rooter! You’re not having second thoughts are you?” Abby was the voice of confidence. “How did you know what you were doing? I mean, that operation isn’t exactly a normal operation.” “Well, in our training we spend a lot of time learning what to avoid when we’re working to remove a problem with the prostate, or bladder. I just did the opposite. If there was a line in a textbook or journal that said, ‘be careful as incontinence may result’, I did it.” “But was that safe?” Abby must have shrugged. “He’s fine, right.” “It wasn’t right. You were wrong.” “Whatever,” Abby retorted disdainfully. “Blame it on me. Get over it. It’s done, and I did such a good job that he’ll be like that forever.” Jenn pulled back the blanket over my head, the signal that we were done. “Let’s get his diaper changed, she said, as she helped me up.” Abby’s face changed when I stood up. Her eyes narrowed. “Why… are you standing?” “It’s over, Abby, I said. You can come in now.” Confusion crossed Abby’s face as the door opened and two police officers entered. One was holding handcuffs ready, and swiftly advanced towards Abby. Abby’s eyes went wide and she shuffled back. “Jenn, what the hell! What’s going on?” “I’m sorry Abby, but what you did was wrong. When Kristin realized that he wasn’t here consensually she helped me see just how wrong it was. I had been too involved in what was going on… I had forgotten what ‘right’ was. Together, we went to the authorities and, well, they thought hearing it in your own words would help. Especially because I was complicit in this.” Jenn turned to me. “Luckily we’ve at least managed to have a competent doctor fix his feet, but you’re right. He’ll be incontinent for the rest of his life. At least all those legal papers were meaningless. The lawyer’s comment was that it looked like an idiot had written them as a fantasy.” The officer had reached Abby and gotten her hands secured behind her. “You BITCH!” Abby started to yell. “YOU did this to ME! I tried to help you and now YOU’RE going to ruin MY life???” Abby struggled futility as the officers dragged her from the room. I looked at Jenn. She really had just put her sister in jail. She looked at me, tears in her eyes. “I’m so sorry this happened to you, Greg. I’m so sorry.” She hugged me. I looked up at her. “I know Jenn, I know. Remember what the therapist said. We’ll own this on our terms, not hers. Together. I love you so much.” We stood there, embracing, for what felt like forever. “Jenn? Love?” I said quietly. “Yes, babe?” “My, uh, diaper is leaking and, well, I’m still hungry.” She sniffled, and laughed a little. “Yeah, let’s get you cleaned up.” We started walking to the changing table. “Do you want real food? I can pump if you do. I would certainly understand wanting adult food.” I knew what I wanted, and I knew what she wanted, but I thought about it. I wanted to make sure I was right. I climbed on the changing table, and she started wiping me up. “You know, I think I’d really like to nurse. And a glass of wine after.” She smiled and kissed my lips. “As you wish.” Epilogue III. The Dark One Six weeks later, Abby returned. Life had changed. Jenn and I were on the nursing couch when I heard the door open and Jenn gave a “Shh….” to the new arrival. “Hu isch ut?” I tried to ask around Jenn’s nipple. My view was obstructed by the light blanket she had placed over my head to keep me from trying to see her phone as she browsed during my feeding. Her breasts were much larger now, engorged with milk that was now a substantial part of my diet. I went back to the wave rhythm with my tongue and I felt her give a little quiver, and her milk came strongly into my mouth. “Hi, Abby. C’mon in. We’re feeding,” Jenn said a little breathlessly as the mini-orgasm of the let-down flowed through her. “I can see that. Wow, your boobs look even bigger in real life than in the pictures you sent. Nice!” I heard Abby step closer, and I made my move. I flipped the blanket up over Jenn’s head, rolled off the couch, and bull-rushed Abby. Caught completely by surprise, I drove her back and she stumbled on the soft floor. There was a loud “WHACK” from her head hitting the corner of the door as she fell into the playpen, and I quickly popped up and closed the door behind me. Turning to Jenn, who was just getting the blanket off her head, I had fire in my eyes, the adrenaline still surging. “GET IN THE CRIB,” I yelled, “NOW!” Jenn sat there, her eyes wide. “What the…” “NOW!” I yelled, walking to her. She was quite a bit taller than I was, but the sight of me walking, fuming, towards her as she sat must have been an imposing sight. She slowly got up, moving slowly towards the crib. “GET. IN.” Her voice was shaky, scared. “C’mon Greg, let’s talk about this. This wasn’t my fault.” “BULLSHIT it wasn’t your fault. The crazy bitch did this to me six weeks ago. I’ve been digging those fucking balls out of my feet with tweezers and all you did to help change my diaper. Do you know how much it fucking hurts to dig into your foot with tweezers? And you didn’t even notice? You are as guilty as she is because you didn’t stop her and you didn’t help fix it. Now GET IN THE CRIB.” There was a whimper behind me, and I turned just long enough to see Abby, now laying in a pool of blood, try to move her fingers. I turned back. “Your sister needs medical care. You can get in the crib and I’ll call 911 and get her help, or you can watch her bleed to death. Your choice.” She looked, and then slowly climbed into the crib. She flinched as I slammed the barred door shut. True to my word I took Jenn’s cell phone and dialed the emergency number, and only a few minutes later Abby was getting wheeled out on a stretcher. Some time after that, there were a LOT more people in the house, Jenn was in handcuffs, and I had told my side of the story many, many times to many people, each as incredulous as the last. I was exhausted. Finally, only one person was left, a woman detective investigating domestic violence claims. “I’ve never seen, or even heard of anything like this,” she had said, shaking her head. “You’ll need to get a lawyer, of course, but I expect that any legal documents you may have signed would be invalid, and if there was any question there’s no way any judge wouldn’t immediately invalidate everything that your wife tried to do to you.” That was one of my biggest questions… what had happened to my money, and how could I survive or even buy groceries tomorrow? “In the meantime,” she continued, “Is there anyone that you can call for support? Anyone you trust?” I thought about it. I really didn’t want the few friends I had to see me like this. I had no brothers or sisters, and my parents had passed. Who could I call? A name came to mind. It took some time to figure out her phone number, but Kristin agreed to come over, and the detective and I explained what had happened. Kristin was horrified, especially when she realized that she had unwittingly helped to construct this room. “So, after all that, I need some help,” I explained. I have no friends, no family, I don’t have any money, or a car, or anything, until I can get that all fixed. You were the only one I could think of reaching out to.” “I mean, sure, of course I’ll help,” Kristin replied, “I’ll do whatever I can. I’ll start by ordering some pizza. Pepperoni OK?” The thought of real food, rather than a shake or breast milk as I had been subsisting on for six weeks, sounded amazing, and I quickly agreed. Soon, the pizza was on it’s way. “Everything OK here for now?” the detective asked. Kristin and I both agreed. “I’ll check in tomorrow,” the detective said, glancing at Kristin. As the front door closed, Kristin looked at me, and then at my crotch. “I suppose the fact that you knew I changed diapers had nothing to do with the call.” I smiled a wry smile. “Well… I’ve never actually changed my diaper. And…” Kristin laughed. “No problem. Let’s get you changed and things will be all better.” Soon, with a dry diaper and a pizza in front of me on the table, I was able to feel a little more human. A little more adult. I carried on the first conversation I had had with someone other than Jenn in six weeks, and it felt good. It would take time for me to recover, but for the first time in weeks I thought that things were getting better. (Well, my stomach wasn’t better with the spicy pepperoni after six weeks of bland liquid food, but that was predictable!) --Eh, the forum decided to merge them all. Whatever.

In response to comments I wrote two additional epilogues. Call it a choose-your-own-ending. The first here is the one I wrote originally. Haven't decided if I space out the posting of the two alternates or just post them together tomorrow. Without further ado, the original: Epilogue 1 - The Original And so, in this unity, we find our happiness. I am reborn in her love, as she nurtures me with the tenderness of a mother and the passion of a lover. Together, we navigate the tapestry of life, our hearts beating in perfect harmony, forever entwined in the sacred dance of love." Six weeks later, Abby returned. Life had changed. Jenn and I were on the nursing couch when I heard the door open and Jenn gave a “Shh….” to the new arrival. “Hu isch ut?” I tried to ask around Jenn’s nipple. My view was obstructed by the light blanket she had placed over my head to keep me from trying to see her phone as she browsed during my feeding. Her breasts were much larger now, engorged with milk that was now a substantial part of my diet. I went back to the wave rhythm with my tongue and I felt her give a little quiver, and her milk came strongly into my mouth. “Hi, Abby. C’mon in. We’re feeding,” Jenn said a little breathlessly as the mini-orgasm of the let-down flowed through her. “I can see that. Wow, your boobs look even bigger in real life than in the pictures you sent. Nice!” “Thanks!” Jenn responded above me. “We’ll be done in a few minutes. Grab some wine from the fridge.” My world was confined to the smell and feel of Jenn’s breasts and the feeling of the milk seemingly going straight to warming my diaper, so I continued my job as Jenn and Abby enjoyed a glass of wine. Soon her breasts were empty and we were done. “Time for a diaper change!” Jenn said, patting the front of my diaper and helping me over to the changing table. Over the course of the last six weeks, I had gotten much better about getting around as the tiny balls in my feet kept me on my knees. I moved quickly to the table, eager for a dry diaper to replace the sodden mess currently bunching between my legs. Abby sauntered over, her glass of wine still in hand, as Jenn clipped the D-rings on the mittens I wore to the top of the table. “He tried to get off the table once, so now we just don’t take any chances,” Jen said, pulling a strap firmly over my chest. “Oh, and cloth diapers now. Very progressive,” Abby noted approvingly. Jenn unsnapped the crotch of the onesie I was wearing and removed the plastic pants. “Yeah, Kristin convinced me to try the cloth diapers. It’s been a lot easier than I expected. She has been a great help. She’s been doing some babysitting so I can get out and knows so much about all this. She’s been great to have around.” The thick cloth diapers bulged and cooled in the air. Suddenly I felt myself peeing, much to the delight of the sisters. I rolled my eyes. It’s not like I had anything to do with it. As Jenn unpinned the diaper and started to open it, Abby looked over expectantly. “There it is! Wow, it’s so tiny. I wouldn’t have expected that he could fit in there. You should start calling him Little Addy.” The chastity cage Jenn had put on me occasionally for the first few weeks, but more and more often recently, stood out, restraining what was trying to become an erection. “No, he’s still Greg. Well, what you said about the pee going everywhere and leaking was true. And a few times I caught him humping his diaper, and I was thinking about what he did to get in this position in the first place, so, well…” she shrugged. “But I do feel a little bad. He’s so darn horny.” I felt my face redden. It was true. With no outlet, I was going nuts. Jenn had taught me how to put my tongue, strengthened by breastfeeding, to uses that I wouldn’t have done for her before I had become her baby, but I was left horny and desperate. “Well, that’s why I’m here, sis. Let’s show you how to do this. Let’s try it without removing his cute little cage.” I was curious. What were they trying? I tried to lift my head but with my arms over my head and the strap on my chest, I couldn’t see much. When Jenn unfolded a clean cloth diaper and put it over my head, my attempts were ended. I would feel them lift my legs… pushing my knees back… and then “Hey!” I cried out, as something went into my butt. There was motion… and more motion inside me… and they were talking quietly, and something wiggled, and there was a pleasurable feeling, and then I heard Jenn say, “Hey look!” “Here, use this to catch it!” I heard Abby say, as I felt something fumbling with the chastity cage. “There is so much!” “Ok, that’s it. Let’s get this out… and legs down…” My butt was lowered onto the familiar feeling of a dry cloth diaper which was quickly pulled between my legs, pinned, and then encapsulated in plastic pants. The onesie was re-snapped, and I was back to what passed for normal these days. “Where are you going with that?” Jenn asked, but Abby didn’t answer as she left the room before the diaper over my head was removed and the restraints were released. “Could you grab the two feeding bottles?” Jenn yelled to the departing Abby as she guided me back to our couch. I felt… Relaxed? Drained? Something was different. Abby returned a few minutes later with the bottles. “Here you go,” and she handed Jenn the bottle. At Kristin’s suggestion, even when I was drinking from the bottle these days Jenn lifted her shirt and put me against the skin of her breast, her nipple at my nose as the bottle’s nipple entered my mouth. The now-boring taste of the vanilla shake entered my mouth. I sucked. It seemed off. I sucked some more. Salty. I sucked some more. Suddenly I realized why it tasted off. I knew what I was drinking. I thrashed, but Jenn’s strong arms kept me in place and the nipple in my mouth as the liquid ran down my throat. Soon I tired and gave in, crying around the nipple invading my mouth, delivering the polluted shake. I heard Jenn and Abby talking above me. “So, at least you don’t have to worry about that now. Next time will be easier. You don’t even have to give it to him in the very next bottle… dilute it, and spread it around. He needed more protein in his diet anyway.” They both laughed. I was crying a little. “Tell me, Jenn, how good friends are you and Kristin getting to be?” I could hear to coyness in Abby’s voice. “Pretty good friends.” “Pretty good? Like, friends, friends?” “She’s been so helpful. She’s been babysitting a lot, like I said, and, well, we kind of hit it off.” I closed my eyes. “Like hit it off, hit it off? I know she and Danny broke up.” “Knock it off, Abby.” She paused. “Yes, we’re seeing each other.” I heard a little clap. I had known this, but hearing it out loud… “Oh, you HAVE to tell me the story!” Jenn laughed. “Well, the last six weeks have been pretty crazy. But it’s a long story. I think this one…” she bent her head down as she lifted the blanket and kissed me on the forehead, “has finished his bottle and needs to go to bed. Go pour more wine while I put him in his crib, and I’ll tell you about it in the kitchen?” I slowly got up from the couch as Jenn helped me to the crib, giving me a maternal kiss again before she closed the barred crib door with a click. “Good night, baby. I love you,” she whispered as she left. “I love you too,” I whispered as the nursery room door closed softly behind her. - This story is copyright by me, justforfun, and no rights are given to re-publish this story anywhere other than Daily Diapers unless you get my explicit permission.

In her embrace, I find that all my strength is hers, and I give all that I am to her. My essence flows into her being, as rivers merge with the sea, losing their identity yet becoming part of something greater. As I surrender myself entirely, my individual identity fades, and I become whole in her love. No longer am I a solitary soul, but a part of her, dependent as a newborn, cradled in the warmth of her unwavering affection. The sun had shifted when I awoke, and it was warm lying in the sun. I sat up, both my diaper and the mattress crinkling under me. I took a minute to take stock of my situation. I pulled up a foot and looked at the bottom. Several little wounds, mostly healed, were over some bumps on my foot. I pressed gently and felt the little balls under my skin. Walking would be out of the question until I could get those out. My wrists were in casts that went forward under my fingers, largely open on the top of my hand but with several bars that went across, immobilizing my fingers. And, of course, the diaper. It was covered by the onesie, appearing just as a bulge on my crotch and a wet feeling in my groin. Wet. I really hoped that was reversible, but I hadn’t so much as felt a twinge of needing to pee in a week, and my diaper was wet every time I was checked. I looked outside the crib. The changing table, the playpen… the only thing that I liked was the little couch with the pillows where Jen and I had sat. And that was that. I couldn’t open the crib door, of course. The bars kept me from being able to get to the lever, even if I could have done something with it. I sat there, the stuffed bear in my lap. “Jenn?” I called out. “Jenn?” Nothing. I could see the cameras, one on each side of the room, looking down at me, but I couldn’t tell whether they were active, or whether anyone was actually looking. A little louder. “Jenn?” A few minutes later, Jenn showed up. “Sorry, baby, we were busy. Let’s get you changed, and then Abby wants to talk to you before she has to leave tomorrow.” Abby leaving tomorrow was the first good news I heard in a week, but her wanting to talk to me… Well, THAT wasn’t a good thing. Jenn was kind and gentle, though, so I managed to get out of the crib after Jenn opened the door and followed her on my knees to the changing table where she was quick and efficient at getting me in a dry diaper. “Where should we talk to Abby?” Jenn asked as she finished taping up the thick white diaper and snapping the onesie back shut between my legs. “Um, what kind of discussion is this?” I asked nervously. Jenn’s hand rested on my chest, and she looked directly at me. “You need to decide your future.” “What does that mean?” “I’ll let Abby explain… why don’t we go to the living room? That’s a long craw for you, though. Hold on a minute,” and she left the room as I sat up on the changing table. A minute later she was back with the stroller I had been transported in upstairs. Jenn positioned it near me and then, without warning, picked me up off the changing table. Now, I knew she could lift me, as our, um, wrestling matches had proven many times, but I didn’t like it and she had never done it outside of a bedtime context. It didn’t seem she strained that hard, even, as she lifted my frame, turned, and deposited me in the stroller. “Ooof,” I let out, “are you ok?” She smiled as her hand dug between my legs, getting another “eek” out of me, as she pulled a strap up. “You’re not that heavy. I wouldn’t want to carry you all over, but it’s easier this way.” She pulled straps over my shoulders and clicked them to the strap at my crotch. As she adjusted the straps I realized that with my hands in the casts, I was trapped here. “Alright, let’s try this out. Comfy?” I nodded. It wasn’t all that bad as we made our way out of what I could only call the nursery toward the living room. Abby was waiting for us there and Jenn parked me in an open area. Leaning back as I was in the low stroller, I felt at a distinct disadvantage, looking up at both of them as they stood next to me. Luckily, they took chairs, which made it not quite as awkward. “So,” Abby began after a moment, “Jenn wanted me to give you a choice. I wasn’t in favor of that,” she said, as she took a sip of wine from a glass, “but she’s my sister and your wife, so I guess what she says, goes.” “Here’s the choice I’ll offer you. The first is divorce.” Jenn looked sharply at Abby. I guess they hadn’t discussed this. “That’s your out clause. I will drop you at an institution someplace and Jenn, and I and a bunch of friends will wail about how your self-harm tendencies finally got to be too much, and how you wanted to be a baby, and harmed yourself behind poor Jenn’s back. You can tell any stories you want about a crazy doctor sister that made you incontinent, but who the hell will believe that?” She smiled and sipped her wine. “But, I promised Jenn I’d give you an out, so that’s your out. The second choice, you sign legal papers that make you a dependent of Jenn. You and she will be together forever, or, at least until she finally gets sick of you and puts you in a care home. You will sign a power of attorney, medical permission, and anything else my lawyer friend can think of that will legally bind you to her until she tires of you. So what will it be.” I thought. “Or,” I began slowly, “There’s a third choice, which is Jenn convinces you top stop this, I forget about your crazy crap and Jenn and I go on living as we had, happy together.” “Diaper boy,” Abby smirked, “there are only two choices. You need to choose one or the other, or I’ll find something else to do to make you regret not choosing.” A swig of wine and she looked at Jenn with a smirk. “You know, it’s kind of annoying to put someone with a penis in diapers. It’s always pointing in the wrong direction, and causing leaks all over. Maybe I could, you know, give you a little hygiene help. With a scalpel.” Jenn, to her credit, almost managed to match my horrified look. Abby just laughed. “Look, make a decision.” She pulled out the remote and paused. I looked at her. She pushed the button and the knives went through my groin. She looked at me. I looked at her. She showed me the remote as she pushed the plus pushed a button several times and looked at me again. She pushed the red button. This time it was a rusty serrated set of knives that jabbed me in the groin. I tried to scream but only a grunt came out. “That was 20,” she said and pushed the plus button a bunch more times. She looked at me. “Goes to 99, you know, and now we’re at 30.” She went to push the shock button again. “Stop!” I finally blubbered. “Ok, ok, I’ll choose, you fucking monster!” I gasped for breath and Abby meanancly moved her thumb toward the shock button again. “Spit it out, baby, what’s your choice?” “Of course, I don’t want a divorce, I want to stay with Jenn!” “And you agree to sign papers to that effect? With a notary?” “Yes! Just, don’t shock me, please!!” Abby put down the remote and picked up her cell phone. She dialed. “Hi, Jill! Yes, we’re going to need the power of attorney docs and the others that I sent to you… That would be great… Yes, they will both be here. I’ll text you the address… Great, thanks, see you soon!” Abby smiled. “Ok, Jenn will be over in about thirty minutes. She’s a friend of mine who is a notary. Here’s the deal.” She looked at us both. “Jill doesn’t know what’s going on, and she won’t find out. As far as she knows you’re suffering from a degenerative neurological disease, and you need to get some paperwork done to make medical care easier. OK?” Jenn nodded. Abby looked at me. “Ok?” She held up the remote. I nodded. “So I will remove the cast on your left hand. You can use your thumbprint to sign. You can sit in this stroller, and we’ll cover you with a blanket to be a little more, you know, discreet. About your debilitating condition, and all.” She smirked. “And if you so much as think that you might want to do something dumb, like trying to get her involved by telling her something you shouldn’t, you will have several of the most painful neurological spasms you’ve ever had and we will immediately whisk you away for your medication. I suggest not talking at all unless you’re given a direct question, just in case I misinterpret what you’re trying to say, OK?” She showed me the remote, and the shock was now set to 99. And that’s what happened. My cast was removed, a blanket covered me to give a little discretion, and soon the doorbell rang. Jill was a heavy-set woman carrying a bag and was clearly in a hurry. I watched her pull a stack of papers from the bag and place them on the table. “We have a bunch of papers to sign, so let’s get started. I received these from your lawyer, so you’ve already reviewed them and know what you’re signing?” Abby nodded, and Jenn nodded. Jill looked at me. I stayed still. Jill looked at me and then moved on, perhaps a little shaken by a small man in a stroller. “First, IDs. You have your’s, Jennifer, as well as Greg’s?” IDs were handed over. Thumbprints were taken, including mine when Jill brought the book to me. “First paper, a petition for a name change for Greg.” My eyes lit up, and I saw Abby’s hand, already in her pocket, shift slightly. I stayed quiet. “Yeah, Jennifer didn’t take Greg’s name when they were married, so they’re worried that may complicate things in the hospital, so he’s going to take her last name.” “No problem. Greg, I need you to put your thumbprint here, first next to Greg Jones Addison. Good, and then here, next to Greg Addison Avery… I like how you are keeping your last name as a middle name. It’s a nice name. Ok, that will apply for the rest of these signings, and when that gets recorded at the court tomorrow morning, you’ll officially be Greg Addison Avery.” She filed away the paper. I looked at my thumb. It had just given away my name. “Ok, second paper, and this is the big one. Power of Attorney. Greg, you are signing the Power of Attorney document, naming Jennifer Avery. This is Durable power of attorney, including for legal, medical, and financial decisions. Correct?” Abby’s hand moved in her pocket as she looked at me meaningfully. I nodded. “Yes, that’s correct,” I said quietly. The paper was provided, and then my thumb gave away Greg Addison Avery’s life to his wife. “And now we have a big stack. Since Jennifer has power of attorney, we’ll just have her do these, OK?” Jill looked at me as if I was a child. I guess I was now. She signed papers giving her sole access to all the bank accounts, the retirement accounts, and even my frequent flyer accounts. I watched Jenn sign a paper requesting the DMV revoke my driver's license. Abby had been thorough. A tear formed in my eye, and Abby, with a soft look for once, wheeled me back to the nursery. I didn’t put up any fight as she helped me into the crib and then put a padded mitten on my free hand, securing it with a strap around my wrist. I was too destroyed to even bother to protest. I heard the front door close as the papers representing the end of my independence left the house. As the crib door clicked shut, I realized how screwed I was. Even if I could get out of the house, the legal bonds that had just been created with my thumb print represented a whole additional layer of dependency on Jenn. I had no idea if it would be even possible to untangle that web, or what Abby would do to me if I tried. I realized what I really wanted was for Jenn to come in and hold me to her breast and tell me it was all just a bad dream and everything would all be OK. Quietly, I sobbed myself to sleep. - This story is copyright by me, justforfun, and no rights are given to re-publish this story anywhere other than Daily Diapers unless you get my explicit permission.

I guess not everyone wants to go all Misery on their wife. Maybe he is just a non-violent guy. Maybe he thinks that attacking one of the sisters will go very badly when the other sister sees him trying to escape and amputates his genitalia, arms, and legs with a sawzall. *shrug*

Ok, that was truly a LOL. 😂 If I hadn't already finished this I would definitely go in that direction! Maybe I'll have to go back and do an alternate "Black Mirror" ending.

With each passing moment, I feel the layers of my individual existence peeling away, revealing the core of my being that yearns to be one with her. My thoughts, my dreams, my very essence begins to intertwine with hers, creating a tapestry of shared consciousness. The 'I' that once was becomes 'we,' a union so complete that the lines between us cease to exist. In this metamorphosis, I am both lost and found. Lost is the solitary self that once stood apart, but found is a greater purpose, a deeper meaning within her love. Like a phoenix rising from the ashes of my former self, I am reborn in the crucible of our connection, my identity now inextricably linked with hers. The only break from the boredom of the next day was the visits from Jenn and the TV. Mostly I lay there, staring only partly comprehendingly at the TV, waiting for the feeding, attention, and diaper change that she provided every few hours. In the evening, she informed me that they were close to finished, but not quite, so my release would have to wait for tomorrow. She informed me this with my head cradled in her breast, sucking on her nipple, so I took it like everything else that week. With no way to change or affect the decision, I kept sucking and relaxed. The next morning I was roused by a flurry of activity in the room. I realized that I was still lying in Jenn’s lap, her pajama top over my head, and I was at her breast. Had I been there last night or had she gotten me like this without waking? Out of the corner of my eye, through the cloth of the pajamas, I could see an indistinct shape moving in the early morning light. The indistinct shape, Abby, soon started opening my diaper. This was a first, normally she make Jenn do this. Jenn just pulled my head in tighter to her bosom as I was held silent with my lips latched to her nipple. I felt cold around my groin as she washed me, and then some fumbling with my penis. She taped up a dry diaper. “Ok Jenn, get your nipple out of his mouth.” I felt my head being gently pulled away, and then suddenly I felt like I had been stabbed in the groin. My back arched and I pulled hard at the restraints, my hands trying futilely to get to my crotch. “AW FUCK FUCK FUCK WHAT WAS THAT?! YOU BImmmmph” came out of my mouth before Jenn pulled me back into her breasts, holding me tightly. Abby laughed, and as Jenn slowly released her hold on my head I could see the remote control Abby held. “Your sister is probably too nice to use this to start with, but I convinced her it was a good insurance policy. That was just a 10 out of 99!” Abby’s face had a look of glee, and her finger moved toward a button. “Want to try higher?” “No!”, Jenn and I yelled in unison. “That’s enough, Abby,” Jenn said. “It works. You have your backup plan. Now let’s get him off this bed, OK?” Abby grinned, her finger menacingly hovering over the button. “Here’s the deal. We’re going to bring you downstairs and show you how things are going to go from now on. If you so much as flick an eyebrow that makes me think you might consider doing something stupid, I’m going to zap you. And then probably zap you again. Kapiche?” I nodded slowly. My mental calendar on when I could try to escape moved out a while. As long as Abby was here and that thing was on my balls… “Ok, so, nice and easy, let’s get you up.” She stepped out of the room for a moment and came back with what looked like a large stroller. “I don’t want you to test your feet yet, so you can ride in here to the stairs, and then scoot down the stairs on your bottom.” “On my bottom?” Abby shrugged. “Sorry, best we could come up with. Do you want out here, or not? If you’re cooperative, we’ll help and things will be easy. If you’re not cooperative…” She held up the remote. “Ready?” I did want out, and decided that, for now, cooperation was most likely to be the right move to get out of the restraints that I’d been in for what I realized had been a week. I nodded, and soon the locks were removed and I could move freely. I swung my arms, feeling the stiffness in my joints. Abby tensed, her finger going to the remote. “Careful now…” she warned. I stopped, my arms out. “Just stretching…” “I know, but don’t hit Jenn with those casts. OK, slide over and we’ll help you in.” Naked except for the diaper I wore, I moved myself to the side of the bed and Abby and Jen helped lift me into the stroller. I didn’t have much time to get used to it, though, as soon we were at the top of the stairs and I was lifted back out and placed on my diaper-padded bottom. Awkwardly and slowly, the sisters helped me down a stair at a time until I was at the bottom. Out of habit I tried to put my feet down, but was quickly and painfully reminded that my feet were off limits as stabbing pains radiated through the soles of my feet. “Try crawling,” said Jenn, her phone up to take pictures. The remote was still in her hand and she held it for me to see. “Crawl to the guest wing.” Our house was set up with the master bedroom upstairs, and two wings downstairs. On one side of the staircase was the living room, kitchen, and so on, and on the other side were the guest rooms, which we hoped someday to have as kids' rooms. Abby was gesturing me down the hall in the direction of the guest rooms. With a sigh, I rolled over. My hands in the casts slipped on the wooden floor and I winced as my knees pressed on the hard surface, but I made it a few feet to the plush carpet where things were easier, and I made my way down the dark hallway towards the closed doors to the bedrooms and bathrooms. Jenn walked ahead, waiting with a broad smile next to the closed door of the back bedroom. She looked down at me. My knees already hurt from the short crawl, and it was pretty obvious that I wasn’t going to be racing away from this nightmare under my own power anytime soon. “Ready to see what we’ve done for you?” She opened the door. Light flowed into the hall. Not just from the bright sun pouring in through the windows, causing me to squint, but from the pastel blues, greens, and yellows that assaulted my eyes. “Do you like it?” she asked, her enthusiasm giving a strong hint about the expected answer. I just knew that Abby, behind me, had her finger on the button. “Um. Of course,” I lied, not even sure what I was looking at. I realized it was a nursery. One side had what looked like the bars of a giant playpen. On the other side was a giant crib. Between them, under the windows, a table with a padded top. A changing table, I realized, the shelves loaded with diapers, wipes, and clothes. “Uh, wow,” I continued, taking it all in, “where did you get all this… stuff?” I moved forward into the room, my hands and knees sinking into what I realized was a floor covered in foam puzzle squares. My knees immediately felt better. “Well, Kristin was a great help,” said Abby behind me. “It turns out that she knew someone trying to sell off a bunch of adult baby furniture, and well,” she gestured. “But I’m not a b…” I started when Abby laughed. “See, I knew you’d say that. That’s why we placed a reminder over your crib!” Abby pointed at the big “BABY” sign in blue bubble letters hanging on the wall. A camera sat blinking prominently in the “A”. “Ok, tour time. I’m so proud of this. You are so lucky that you have so many people who care enough to do this for you!” She walked over to the crib. She stepped on a lever on the floor and the part of the bars on the front swung open like a door. I could see the blue sheets inside, decorated with airplanes and trucks, and some stuffed animals arranged around. “Here’s a nice comfy place for you to sleep, and easy for you to get into and out of! Moving to her left she gestured at a couch with some cushions and an ottoman. “Here’s a day bed, set up for your num nums, and a comfy place for mommy to sleep if she needs to. “And of course,” she said, walking to the table in front of me, a place to change dirty diapers! Since we just changed you, we’ll get to that later. But we do have some clothes… she reached to a shelf on the table and pulled out what looked like a light blue T-shirt.” Walking in front of me she went to the barred area and opened a door. “And a big playpen to keep you out of the way during the day. There are even a bunch of toys in there for you! And you can see the TV if mommy lets you watch that. Why don’t you check it out?” Mesmerized and horrified by what I saw, I didn’t move. Suddenly I was stabbed in the groin by knives. “ARGH!!!!” I wailed, curing up into a ball. Tears came to my eyes as the pain washed through me. She held the button down and for several seconds I was immobilized, focused only on the shock in my groin. When it ended I lay there, whimpering. “I don’t usually ask twice,” Abby chastised me, as she grabbed a shoulder and directed me towards the playpen. As I got to the door she stopped me and then held the shirt out. “Put your hands in,” she said as she held the shirt with the arms available, and I quickly put my arms and head through the appropriate holes. She surprised me as she knelt down in front of me, and then pulled the back of the shirt to the front and fastened some snaps. I realized I was wearing a onesie. She patted my diaper. “Helps hold all this in place for big babies as well as small babies.” She stood up and looked me over. “Ok, now you’re stylish. Into your playpen!” Not wanting to risk another shock, I crawled forward. As I entered, I realized the top was covered with a mesh from side to side. The wooden bars were about four feet high so I could kneel, but wouldn’t have been able to stand even if I could. I crawled to the side and tried to stick my arm out, but the mesh kept me from getting anywhere near the release latch. It was a cage I was stuck in. A baby cage. I couldn’t believe what was happening to me. Abby quickly took Jenn out of the room, and as soon as the door was closed I broke down, sobbing. I wanted to wear normal clothes. I wanted Abby gone. I wanted Jenn as a wife. I wanted my old life back. I sobbed. Soon, a feeling in my gut told me what I had been getting used to all week, and I knew that soon I would fill my diaper. I sobbed. I filled my diaper. I sobbed some more. I fell asleep. Sometime later I heard the gate open and a zipper sound as the mesh on the top was peeled back a little. Jenn entered. “You ok, babe?” she said softly, lovingly, caringly. I woke slowly, her hand gently brushing the crusty tears from my eyes as I lay on the floor. I didn’t respond. “Let’s get you changed, ok? Can you work with me?” I still didn’t respond. She was part of the cause of this, even if Abby had done most of the damage. “C’mon, babe, I love you, time to get that stinky diaper changed. Wouldn’t that feel better? And then you might be hungry for some lunch? Lunch with me?” Ok, that did it. The promise of her breast was indeed something I’d like. I slowly pulled myself to my knees and crawled out as she guided me to the changing table. She pulled out something from the side and I realized that it was some steps, helping me crawl up onto the white padded plastic surface. She helped me roll over, the disgusting mess squelching as it spread over the rear of the diaper. As she had for the last week, she put on her, “I can do this” face and with the help of a pair of gloves, a lot of wipes, some washcloths, some small talk, and a lot of grit she managed to get me cleaned up. Soon, I was wearing another thick disposable diaper and a new onesie, the old one having been consigned to the “wash with bleach” pile. Helping me down from the changing table we made our way to the couch, where I now eagerly scampered up and waited for her to make herself ready. It wasn’t long before her scent filled my nose, he breast was on my cheek, and I was sucking contentedly on her nipple. She held me close and I relaxed into her, as I always did. Soon Abby made an appearance and delivered two bottles, which I downed. As I started sucking air from the second bottle, Jen pulled it away. “Alright, I know you were just sleeping, but it’s nap time. Let’s try out your crib.” I did not want to do that. “I want to stay here with you.” “No, Greg. Abby and I have some things that we need to do this afternoon before her vacation is over and she needs to leave. You need to get in your crib, now.” I looked at her pleadingly and whined, “No, not the crib. Can I just stay here?” “Greg, get in the crib now.” Her voice had changed. The tone had lost a lot of the loving. I saw a little bit of Abby in her stern face. I didn’t want her to be Abby. I wanted her to be my Jenn. I relented and got off the couch and crawled to the crib. Jenn walked beside me and helped me into the open door, which was quickly closed. The bars I saw overhead were not a surprise at all. I lay there, able to stretch out but not really move much, and realized how much more confining the crib was than the playpen. I tossed around a bit to find a good position, finally cuddling a stuffed bear to me as I looked for comfort. Whatever was in the drinks was effective, and even though I wasn’t really tired I passed out soon. - This story is copyright by me, justforfun, and no rights are given to re-publish this story anywhere other than Daily Diapers unless you get my explicit permission.