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The Home Chapter 1 'You're very grumpy,' said Alice as she drove towards the town. 'Do you need a change?' 'No,' replied Chris, staring out the window as the trees flashed past. 'Chris, you can play on your computer any time, and this is a good chance for you to get out of the house. I've only got a few things to do, and then we can have some lunch, OK?' 'OK,' said Chris flatly. He felt himself wetting his diaper, and gave a short sigh. He couldn't stop it any more, even when he was aware of it happening. The flow stopped soon enough, but Chris knew he'd probably need a change before they got back home. That meant finding a quiet spot and him lying across the back seat of Alice's SUV while she put him in a fresh diaper. How his life had changed, Chris thought, not for the first time, as Alice braked and he felt himself peeing again. They'd had three 'normal' years of marriage then Chris's old foe, bedwetting, had returned. It didn't help that Jess, Alice's 23 year old daughter by her first marriage and who lived with them, was a nurse at a nearby institution which provided accommodation for people with various problems including incontinence apparently, and when she found out about Chris's issues she convinced Alice to diaper him at night. Jess even brought the diapers Chris wore from her work. They were thick and bulky, and there were infantile plastic pants as well. After he'd been diapered for some time, Chris discovered that there were such things as pullups which were thinner and which he could put on himself, but Alice and Jess said he wet too heavily for those. So at 38 years of age Chris was back in the thick diapers he thought he'd left behind with his teens. Worse, he had only been wetting the bed a few times a month then. This time it wasn't long before he was wetting every night. After a few months of bedwetting he'd begun having daytime accidents as well. At first, his daytime incontinence was a matter of having an urgent need to urinate and finding it difficult to hold. If he didn't get to a bathroom, an accident was likely. Over time, the urgency had developed into unconscious heavy wetting. Now, a year later, he wet his diaper every day and had even had a few horribly embarrassing soiling accidents, although at least he had some control over that, and usually had a few minutes to find a bathroom or even a large bush. Chris had been devastated at the development of his incontinence, not just at needing daytime diapers and going back to wearing the baggy jeans and trousers he'd worn and disliked as a teen, but at the effect on his settled, adult life. The growing problem had cost Chris his job, and since he was now classed as medically unfit to drive his car had gone as well. The loss of his job wasn't so bad because Alice earned a very good salary, and said she didn't mind especially as Chris now did a lot of the housework. The worst of it was that Chris spent time at home with Jess, Alice's daughter, who seemed to regard him as one of her 'patients'. A further issue, on which Chris didn't like to dwell, was that both Alice and Jess were considerably taller than he was. With his small, light build Chris had endured school with the moniker 'Little Chrissie' and by 18 had finally given up hope of ever exceeding his modest 5 feet 3 or losing his somewhat fine features. As Alice said, it didn't really matter, but once the wetting resurfaced, being shorter than the two women in his life made him feel even less adequate and, he had to say it, less manly. But as Alice said, there was no point in complaining about it, just as she dismissed his complaints about Jess changing him. Chris had done his best to try to become adept with taping himself, but he found it hard to get right and his efforts usually resulted in wet patches in his clothing however efficient the diaper. At least Alice was sort of loving when she was changing him, but Jess treated him like a toddler, patting him to raise his legs and using what Chris considered demeaning language, quite apart from her seeing him totally naked. 'You're too sensitive,' Alice would tell him. 'Your're lucky that Jess is around with the skills she has to help you.' As they pulled up at a stop light, Alice looked across at Chris and studied his face for a moment. 'Are you wetting, honey?' she asked him. Chris was still staring out the window. With a start, he realised that his bladder was pouring a steady stream of pee into his diaper. 'Yes,' he said. There wasn't much more that he could say. 'I have to call in and see Jess's boss,' Alice said. 'I'm sure we can find somewhere there to change you.' 'Great,' said Chris. He hated going to that place. It was a big old house in a few acres of garden. The security fence surrounding it said enough about it, as far as Chris was concerned. Alice was an accountant, and the insititution was one of her clients. Chris had spent a lot of time there sitting in the car waiting for Alice whiie she spoke to the management, finding that only slightly less boring than sitting in the place's musty waiting room leafing through old magazines. They were so dull that Chris had eyed off the box of battered toys in the corner of the waiting room. He liked models, and even at his age had a few Star Wars figures at home. He wasn't above using them for light sabre fights when he was home alone. But he'd never needed a change while he was at Jess's work before. Soon enough they were at the gate. Alice spoke into the intercom and the big gate swung slowly open. 'Just in the carpark will do,' said Chris, feeling slightly anxious. Alice laughed. 'No, honey, I don't think it's a good look for the business's accountant to be changing her husband's diaper in the carpark. I'm sure they have a room somewhere we can use,' she said. Chris tensed, and felt himself peeing again. To be continued.

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

Why can’t I stay at home? Chapter 1 I've done it again - started another story. Be patient! : ) ‘Why can’t I stay at home?’ Bob asked his wife as she drove them towards the large facility in the countryside not far out of their town. ‘Because I don’t think you’re ready for that yet, Bob, and neither does Dr Allen,’ replied Sue. ‘I’d be fine,’ said Bob grumpily. ‘I’m quite capable of being at home.’ ‘Bob, please,’ said Sue. ‘You still need a lot of help. Please stop arguing about it, OK?’ Bob grunted, and stared out of the window. ‘And don’t sulk, Bob,’ said Sue. ‘I’ll only be away for a month, and I don’t want to spend it worrying about you coping at home.’ ‘I have actually lived by myself before,’ said Bob. ‘Not in your present condition,’ said Sue. ‘Now I don’t want any fuss from you. Dr Allen will be here, and I want you to be pleasant and cooperative.’ ‘OK,’ said Bob. He knew the decision had been made, but he was still unhappy. When he had to stop working, he knew things would be different. His medical, and he had to admit it, his psychological issues meant that he would be relying on Sue to a certain extent. However, the way it had worked out, he often felt that Sue was in charge rather than just helping him. He often felt like a kid the way she made the decisions and ordered him around, even in front of people. If he complained it was even worse. Sue would say he was being cranky, making him sound like a fractious child. She’d say she knew best, and the worst thing was she often did, only because she was aware of things that Bob wasn’t. He felt sort of cut off from the adult world, at least the world that Sue operated in. She didn’t discuss things with him like why they couldn’t do things at certain times. Bob’s lack of information wasn’t his fault. ‘Here we are,’ said Sue as they parked near the imposing entrance of the building. 'Sue,' said Bob suddenly. He wanted to broach a subject that he had been trying to put to the back of his mind. 'What, honey?' said Sue. 'About my night time, you know, things, you know,' said Bob. 'Oh. don't worry,' said Sue. 'Dr Allen said that's all taken care of. The staff are very understanding, and you won't be the only one with the same needs.' 'Are you sure?' said Bob. Needing to wear a diaper at night had been a big issue for Bob. Sue had been diapering him every night for months now. It had been embarrassing enough having her do it, and Bob was worried about what would happen here. 'It's just...'; said Bob. 'Bob,' said Sue. 'Don't worry. I've discussed it with Dr Allen, and she said that they have a lot of patients in your position I know you're concerned about it, but try to be grown up. You need to wear them, the staff here are very experienced and there won't be a problem, OK?' 'OK,' said Bob. It was just another reason to not want to be here, he thought. Sue got out of the car and went around to the passenger door as Bob got out. She stopped and tugged Bob’s sweater down over his pants. ‘I don’t want to do this,’ said Bob. ‘Bob, I’ve told you. No fuss. I’ll be back in a month, and you will have everything you need here. The inpatient program is perfect for you,’ said Sue. Sue went to the back of the car and retrieved Bob’s small bag, which she gave to him. Bob followed Sue into the building. He hated institutions. He never thought he’d go anywhere near one, and still found it hard to believe that he was here as a patient. It was bad enough being reduced at home to a kind of patient. Here would be worse. He didn’t even have many clothes for his stay here. Sue said they’d be provided, and Bob couldn’t imagine what they’d give him. No one had mentioned Bob’s night time needs, and he certainly hadn’t brought up the embarrassing subject. He wondered about it. He didn’t think Sue had put any of his horrible night time pants, as he insisted on calling them, in his bag. They were in a big, bulky package with the other things in the bottom of his half of the wardrobe at home. Just something else, he thought, that was taken out of his hands, that didn’t need to be discussed with him. Not that he had asked about packing a bag for his stay here. That was just the sort of thing he was letting Sue do for him, he thought. He had to take more responsibility. The way things were going, she’d take over completely, he thought miserably. Dr Allen was waiting for them in the large foyer. Yet another arrangement he didn’t know about, thought Bob. How did they know he and Sue were coming? Sue was often on her phone organizing things, without any reference to Bob. Usually the most Bob got when he asked was ‘I’m on the phone, Bob,’ or ‘Not now, Bob.’ ‘Hi Sue,’ said Dr Allen. ‘Hi Jane,’ replied Sue. ‘Hello, Bob,’ said Dr Allen, smiling at him. ‘Hi Dr Allen,’ said Bob. He would probably have liked Jane Allen, he thought. But he didn’t like ‘Dr Allen’ or the clinical world she represented. ‘Sue,’ said Dr Allen, ‘This is Mary Fenton. She’s the therapist I mentioned who will be managing Bob’s care while he’s here.’ ‘Hi Sue,’ said Mary, shaking Sue’s hand. ‘I’m pleased to meet you. And you’re Bob,’ she said, turning to him with a smile but without offering her hand. ‘Hello, Bob,' she said. 'Welcome to Pine View. We’re all ready for you.’ Dr Allen took Sue and Bob into a side room with Mary. They sat while Dr Allen and Mary explained that Bob would be admitted – committed, more likely, thought Bob – as an inpatient in the assisted living ward. Assisted living, thought Bob. How had it come to this? He was 30 years old, and needed ‘assisted living’. Well, he thought, he didn’t really need it, it was just Sue’s decision, and Dr Allen’s. Other than the night time stuff, and maybe a few other minor things, he was a perfectly capable human being. Any need for assistance was temporary. He had a few physical problems, with his 'fine motor skills', and he forgot stuff sometimes, but that was mostly because Sue tried to do everything and didn’t tell him what was going on. ‘Bob?’ said Dr Allen. ‘What?’ said Bob. He hadn’t been listening. ‘Bob,’ said Sue, ‘Dr Allen was just explaining that it will be just like being at home. Mary or one of the other staff here will be on hand to help you with anything, and there are activity rooms with plenty of things to do in the activity periods.’ Activity periods, thought Bob. It sounds like a junior school. ‘That’s right,’ said Mary. ‘There are several rooms, and you’ll be able to find the level you’re most comfortable with. We’ll start you off in level three. You’ll make lots of new friends. You’ll be in a group with a group leader who can help you fit in right from the start.’ There was a bit more talk about meals and other arrangements, then everyone got up. Bob waited while Sue signed some papers, and soon he was saying good bye to her. He didn’t feel very good about that. ‘Cheer up, Bob,’ said Mary, who seemed to know how Bob was feeling. ‘She’ll soon be back. Once you’ve said goodbye, I’ll show you your room and the activity space you’ll be in. There’s a lovely outdoor area too. You also need to wear this,’ Mary said, producing a pale blue plastic band like a Fitbit. ‘This goes on your wrist,’ she said, clipping it to Bob’s wrist and twisting a little key into the fastener. ‘It lets us know where you are, and if you need help, you just press the little button on top.’ Sue hugged Bob, and assured him he’d be fine. Bob couldn’t help becoming a little upset. Feeling emotional was one of the things that happened more easily now. He tried not to let it show, but Mary put her arm around him as Sue left. Bob was glad when Dr Allen left and Mary took him down a corridor farther into the building. They passed various busy looking people, and Mary greeted some of them. As they walked along no one paid much attention to Bob, other than a few smiles. ‘This is the activities area,’ said Mary as they went through a pair of double doors into a well lit corridor. They passed an open area to one side, separated by a bright yellow balustrade. Beyond it were low tables and chairs, and several groups of people noisily involved in what looked like making things. There were brightly coloured drawings and posters on the walls. It looked like a kindergarten, thought Bob, expect that the people were too old for kindergarten. There were teenagers and some adults, male and female. They were all dressed in pastel coloured overalls, and Bob noticed that they all had plastic bracelets on like his. There was a woman at a desk at one end who was calling ‘Quiet please’ as they passed. Bob wondered if he’d be in a group like that. When he was first at home, he’d spent time playing internet games, but keeping up with the other players had become quite frustrating and Sue had bought him some things on Dr Allen’s advice. They were a bit young for him, probably, but they were a lot less competitive and Bob could do them at his own pace. He felt a little embarrassed at enjoying them, but he did, as long it was just at home. He realised that he was holding Mary’s hand, and squeezing it. ‘That’s level two,’ said Mary, as if she’d read the concern in his mind. ‘You’ll be in level three.’ They walked on, and Bob found himself worrying if level three would be stressful like the group internet games. To be continued.

This is an old story, quite long but unfinished (what a surprise!). I'll repost it here, and finish it this weekend. I don't know how to get rid of the light blue background behind the font. I can't find a button for it. Any clues appreciated. Kate And Bobbi Chapter 1It was an unusual marriage, some said. Kate was a statuesque 30 year old personal trainer with a daughter who looked likely to become a clone of her tall mother, and Bob was a short, slim, shy man with soft, clear skin, a boyish face and lustrous blonde hair which his mother always told him was wasted on a boy. He was still regularly carded, at 23, when he dared to venture into a club or bar. Bob had never really settled down, and had drifted from one job to another. These days he was not without means from his inheritance, but money didn't seem to be his attraction for Kate. They appeared to be devoted to one another.Things went well for a couple of years, although Bob and Kate's daughter Sue never quite saw eye to eye. Literally, in fact. Bob was barely 5 feet 2, and Sue at 12 when her mother married Bob was already nearly 5 feet 10 inches tall and precociously well-developed. Sue regarded her adored mother's marriage as a mistake.Bob had been working in a large supermarket for a couple of years – a record for him – when the trouble started. Whether it was Kate's height, her air of competence and authority or some need or lack of inner strength in Bob, he had over the two years of marriage, begun to defer to Kate. She made the major decisions, sometimes discussing them with Sue, but Bob was often left out of the loop. He didn't say much about it and just got on with his life. Bob's few friends, and certainly Kate's friends who were mostly women, noticed the change."Does he mind being bossed around? Even Sue does it," observed Sally, one the instructors at the gym where Kate worked."He's happy for us to make decisions," said Kate. "That's the way our marriage works."Bob's subservient position in his small household began to show itself in his job. Increasingly, he was allocated less responsible tasks, and even then someone usually checked his work. Recently, he had been more or less demoted to the role of errand boy. He trotted around the store, doing everyone's bidding. He had his breaks with the checkout girls and had become used to sitting in the lunchroom with them as they chatted. For their part, the girls considered Bob one of themselves. They even joked about how well he fitted in, and in fact, sitting around the big table in the lunchroom, it was hard to tell at a glance that Bob, with his long hair, as Kate liked it, and in the ponytail she pulled it into every morning, wasn't indeed a rather pretty young woman. He was the only male in the store who wore over his clothing one of the red tops all the women wore. He was often listed as Bobbi in store communications. Bob had objected in his mild way once or twice, so he gave up protesting and even answered uncomplainingly to Bobbi, the girls' nickname for him.Bob wasn't unaware of his position in the store's hierarchy, and began to worry about why he wasn't able to make headway against all the stronger personalities around him. He longed for simpler times – in a general way, without knowing what those simpler times might entail. He realized that he didn't really enjoy life, rather, he just lived it.There were some high spots for him. He enjoyed sorting things – physically putting things in different piles and whatever order was required. But those tasks never lasted, and it was back to running errands. He actually preferred working for the women in his workplace. He had to look up at them when they spoke to him, but they seemed gentler on him and less intimidating than some of the big jocks who shoved him around. Bob was now 25, and his life didn't seem to be going anywhere in particular. His favourite at work was Mary Jenkins, who often smiled at him and always had a kind word. "That wife of yours needs a baby to look after," Mrs Jenkins had said after she had watched Bob as a took a call at work from Kate. 'Yes Kate… no… yes… okay… yes… I love you too… bye," comprised Bob's side of the conversation. "She can't spend her time looking after you, no matter how sweet you are," Mrs Jenkins told Bob. "Why don't you try for one?"Bob couldn't tell Mary that Kate's opinion of Bob's capacity for procreation was very low, and that their sex life consisted basically of Bob giving his wife oral sex, and sucking on her glorious breasts. Kate often told Bob that one daughter was enough, and that she was glad Bob didn't want a child of his own, not that Bob had ever said anything about that.That night, Bob had dreamed of having a baby in the house. It was a confusing dream, with Bob not quite sure of his viewpoint during it. He had forgotten the details of the dream when he woke up, or more correctly was woken up by his angry wife. He had wet the bed.Sue, already up and back from her morning run, heard the commotion and watched as Bob shame-facedly carried the bundle of wet bedclothes into the laundry. She gave her stepfather a withering look as only 15 year old girls can. It happened again two nights later, with no dreams about babies, and Bob was terrified that his old problem had returned. Bob had been held back for a year from starting school because he was still in diapers. Even when he did eventually start at infant school, he had regular accidents there, earning himself the unloved nickname Baby Bobby. He was still wetting at night until he was Sue's age, with his mother pinning him into a bulky terry diaper, for economy, with plastic plants over them. Sleepovers with friends were definitely out for Bob. There was no recurrence of wetting the marital bed until a few months after Sue had turned 16 and Kate had supplemented her daughter's savings and helped her buy a car. Bob's job was on a bus route, and Kate had decided that they didn't need his car, and in truth, they found Kate's SUV quite adequate. Kate was out and Bob had once again had to ask Sue for a ride to the hardware shop for some woodwork he was attempting in his shed. Sue was about to go to her regular gym workout, and stood unsmiling in her spandex bodysuit as Bob made his appeal. She turned him down with a few short words as she often did, and on this occasion Bob felt particularly hard done by. He complained to Kate, who supported her daughter, saying that Sue was a busy person and didn't have time to drive around at Bob's pleasure. Bob had had a difficult day at work, managing to mix up the messages he was running for some of the checkout girls, and they had been quite angry with him.Now both Kate and Sue were dismissing his legitimate needs. He went to bed upset that he couldn't have his own car, and that he was so dependent on everyone. He felt small and insignificant. That night, Bob soaked the bed again, in the morning as he headed to the laundry, he ran into Sue who took one look at the bundle of wet bedding and remarked that she hadn't wet the bed since she was four. Bob had no answer, but bit his lip as he packed the sodden sheets and his pyjamas into the washer. His stepdaughter had a solid part time job and was doing well in her studies. She had lots of friends and drove her own car. No-one pushed her around. Bob was struggling at his simple job, and relied on his Kate, and now Sue, for transport. He even had to be on his best behavior and ask them nicely for even that small favour. "Sue is a woman now," Kate had said. "She has her life to lead and can't be running around for you all the time."She'd never told him he was a man. Bob closed the washer door and reached down, feeling his genitals through the track pants Kate had given him to put on. Even to his small hand, there wasn't much to feel. Bob blinked and realized that he was crying.It was a Saturday and after Kate and Sue had left the house on their various business, Bob unloaded the washer and hung out the contents as asked. Both women had had washing in the machine when the sheets went in, and Bob felt a familiar wave of despair wash over him as he hung out their garments with his own. Kate and Sue's jeans were inches longer than his small pair, and even their underwear was several sizes bigger. Bob looked at his little briefs hanging between the larger 'smalls' of his lofty wife and her tall daughter, and felt more than ever the baby of the family. Anyone looking at the washing on the line would think by the comparative sizes of the clothing that there were two adults and a child living in the house. Furtively, he looked at the tag in Sue's bra as he pinned it to the line. 38C. It was almost as big as Kate's, which he knew was 38D. Bob's feelings of misery were accompanied by a small spurt of pee into his underpants. That had been happening recently when he was distressed or under pressure. Bob felt his crotch, and discovered that this time, the wetness had soaked through to his track pants. He pulled them down to make them a bit looser, and hoped they would dry before the women came home. He didn't dare change his clothes – he was sure to be asked why. He thought of the way Sue's gym suit hugged the feminine bulge of her crotch. Clearly, she had no worries about wet patches.With a thick feeling in his throat, Bob retreated inside and picked up the newspaper. It seemed to be full of the doings of people who did more important things than running errands for checkout girls. Boring, he decided, and turned to the cartoons. At least they were interesting, and they cheered him up a bit. He was sorry when he had read the last one that there were no more, then remembered a book in the bookcase nearby. It didn't take long to find it – an old large format Disney book that he'd been given for a youthful birthday. For the next half hour, Bob sat happily reading. It was much easier to read than the newspaper, with big print, simple words and of course, pictures to illustrate the talk bubbles. Bob found that he remembered some of the stories, and they were still just as funny. He was soon engrossed in the adventures of Donald Duck and his nephews, and forgot for the moment his concerns about being the child of the family. While reading, he had felt a twinge in his groin, and had got up to go the the bathroom. As he stood up0-, he realised that his need to pee was more urgent than he had thought, and he had to run to the bathroom. He made it just in time, tearing down his track pants and his underpants in one move and having to squeeze his penis as he pointed it towards the toilet bowl. Relieved not only physically but that he had not wet himself, Bob waggled his little penis dry and returned to his reading, to hear after a minute or two the sound of a car arriving outside, and people's voices. He heard his wife, and the voices of some children. Who had she brought with her, he wondered.The front door opened and Kate walked in with her friend Stella and Stella's two children, Mark and Sally. Bob closed his book and stood up, confident that his pants had dried enough for the dampness not to be noticeable. 'H darling, you know Stella, and Mark and Sally,' Kate said. 'And can you help me with some things from the car?''Hi guys,' Bob said as he headed outside.Kate opened the rear door of the SUV, exposing a couple of cardboard boxes. Bob leaned into the car and pulled towards him a large box. It was quite heavy.'Not that one, honey, it's too heavy,' said Kate. 'Here's one for you.'Kate gave Bob a much smaller box, while she effortlessly lifted the larger box and followed Bob back into the house.He put the carton down where Kate indicated.'Coffee, Stell?' asked Kate. 'Thanks Kate, I could kill for one,' replied Stella. 'And I've got some lemonade for you kids,' said Kate. 'Yummy,' said Sally, a bright seven year old. Her brother, eight, grinned his thanks and they waited expectantly. Stella joined Kate I the kitchen. 'Thanks for helping out,' Stella said. 'I'm at a bit of an impasse with this marketing thing, and I could really use another opinion.''Bugs Bunny!' Sally called excitedly, discovering Bob's book on the sofa.'Oh, that old book of Bob's,' Kate responded with a smile. 'What's that doing out?''I was reading it,' said Bob. 'It's really quite funny. Bugs sends them to Uncle Scrooge, but he doesn't know he has…' began Bob enthusiastically.'OK, honey,' interrupted Kate, 'But Stell and I have to talk about some business. Why don't you show the kids your old Legos? The box is in the study. I was cleaning out the cupboard yesterday and was going to put it in the garage. You can spread them out on the floor there, but remember to tidy up.''Can't I stay here with you?' asked Bob. 'Honey it's just two… two people talking about boring business. Go and show Mark and Sally some of the things you used to make,' Kate said.Bob new an order when he heard one. He turned to go, then paused.'Can I have a coffee?' he asked. 'Honey I've already got a drink for you,' Kate said, handing Bob one of three big glasses of lemonade she had just poured.Mark and Sally happily lined up for their drinks. 'There you are,' said Kate giving the pair the glasses. 'Off you go.'Bob led the two to the study. 'Remember kids, tidy up,' Kate called after them as they went. 'No mess!''We'll be tidy Mrs Johnson!' Mark replied before the trio went through the door out of the room.Bob winced at the minor irritation of Mark using Kate's maiden name. Where had he heard that, Bob wondered. Bob was Bob Wood, and Kate was Mrs Wood, although she practised the business she had started before marriage under her maiden name. Bob was also annoyed that he wasn't allowed coffee and had to have lemonade like Mark and Sally, but on the other hand he had to admit that he was looking forward to getting out his Legos. He hadn't played with them for years. Not that he'd be playing. He'd just show these kids what to do. He was actually glad that he didn't have to sit and listen to Kate and Stella, who hear could hear talking earnestly in the background. Kate was right – as she usually was: it was just two people talking about boring business.It turned out Mark had some good ideas for building with Lego, including some which Bob could not remember using himself. Even Sally was useful, finding just the piece the boys needed as he and Mark showed off their skills to each other. Mark was building a lighthouse, while Bob was engrossed in constructing his 'Bugs Bunny' house. He even made a carrot patch out the front, and was trying to make a giant orange carrot, a task which defeated him, until Mark showed him how to make a realistic cylinder out of different sized Lego bricks. Bob was impressed, and once he'd finished his house, he set to work making another big carrot. It was fun, and Bob ignored the slight twinge from between his legs. He flexed his thigh muscles and changed position as he sat on the big rug. He would go to the bathroom when he had finished his carrot.'Why have you got a ponytail?' Sally asked suddenly.'Er, it's how Kate does it,' Bab answered.'I do my own hair,' Sally told him proudly. 'Do you like ponytails?''I dunno,' said Bob. 'They're OK.''I think it's girly,' said Mark.Bob just grunted, and reached for another orange brick. As he did so, he felt a warmth spreading around his crotch, and stopped in mid reach. He tried to stop the flow, but by the time he had, the damage was done. Sally saw what had happened. 'You wet your pants,' she said quite loudly. Bob looked down. It was far worse than he expected. The whole front of his track pants was dark blue with pee, and he was sitting in a puddle. Mark looked on, somewhat surprised. Bob didn't know what to do. His first thought was that he could run to the bedroom and get changed, but that wouldn't alter what had happened. What would Kate say, he thought.'I'm telling your mummy!' announced Sally as she stood up. Bob caught his breath, held it for a moment, then began to sob, much as he tried not to.Sally sprinted from the room.'You're really wet,' said Mark. 'Why didn't you go and pee?'Kate and Stella looked up as Sally burst into the room. 'Bobby's wet his pants!' she said. 'I think he's crying.'Stella raised her eyebrows and looked at Kate. Kate got up immediately and went to the study.She found Bob sitting on the floor, surrounded by the Legos. He was certainly crying. Mark was sitting next to him. 'He just peed everywhere,' said Mark. 'It's OK, Mark, he's just had an accident. Come on Bob,' she said, helping Bob to his feet. 'Let's get you sorted out.'Kate didn't say much as she stood Bob in the bathroom and took down his wet pants and undies. She turned on the shower and guided him in, then helped him dry. Now dry, Bob stood shivering while Kate opened the cupboard in the bathroom and rummaged around for a moment. She emerged with a thick white object in her hand, which she opened out. Bob wasn't sure what it was, but soon realized what it was for. It was a kind of padded panty with a wide elasticated top. He sure as hell didn't want to wear it, and struggled to get away from Kate. Kate gripped his arm. 'Now Bob, I don't want you to fuss about this. We'll talk about it later. Leg in here please,' she said, holding a leg opening up. Bob knew better than to argue. At least he had stopped crying, and Kate wasn't actually cross, he didn't think. Tentatively, he poked his foot into the opening, and Kate kissed him on the forehead and pulled the panty up his leg to the knee. 'Good boy,' she said. 'Now the other leg.'Bob put his other leg into the strange feeling panty and let Kate tug the garment up snug around his waist. She reached into the front of the panty and pushed his little penis downwards, then gave the panty another tug and turned him around to inspect her work.'All done,' she said. 'I know it will feel funny, but you'll be safe now. No more accidents.'Bob looked up at her in some distress.'I didn't mean to,' he said.'I know, honey. It was just an accident. You can go back and play with the others now,' she said kindly.Kate kissed him again on the forehead, and patted him gently on the rump. Bob wasn't sure what to do. It didn't matter, as Kate guided him back into the study, where Mark and Sally had resumed their Lego building. Bob sat silently on the rug. He wasn't sure if he felt like going on with his carrot. Sally studied Bob's dry track pants closely. 'Did she put your diaper on?' asked Sally. 'I can hear it.'Bob just nodded, and stared at the half built Lego carrot.'So what, Sal,' Mark said. 'You wear a diaper every night.''Shut up, Mark!' objected Sally. 'I've been dry for, for three nights. I bet you used to wet your pants!''Not when I was seven,' said Mark. 'And you're nearly eight.''Shut up and I don't care!' said Sally with vigour. 'Bobby, here's another piece for your carrot.'Sally handed Bob the half block he needed. Bob took it silently and pressed it in place. He decided to concentrate on finishing it and ignored the other two.In the other room, the women heard the raised voices and Stella began to get up to investigate. Kate shook her head and put her hand on Stella's forearm. Stella sat and looked at Kate, who said quietly, 'They'll work it out.'Stella shrugged and resumed her seat. The raised voices quietened down, and Stella and Kate resumed their discussion.The trio in the study, with the exception of Bob, soon moved on too. After all, someone wetting their pants and having to be changed wasn't unheard among Mark and Sally's acquaintances. And Bobby was only a bit bigger than Mark, Sally thought. So maybe he did still need diapers. After all, his mummy had some ready to put him into. Sally felt quite pleased. He probably still wet the bed, just like her. So Mark could just shut up.The incident did change the children's opinion of Bob's status in their pecking order. He wasn't just a big boy playing with Legos, he really was like them. Even littler, probably, despite his size, if he was still in diapers. And that was a pretty cool carrot he was making. Subconsciously, the two children became even more accepting and inclusive of their new friend. So what if he wet his pants? Plenty of kids still did that.So play resumed, with a lot of chatter and giggling.A while later, Kate and Stella had resolved Stella's marketing troubles, and the women went to the study to wind up operations there. They were pleased to see the three playing so happily together, and Kate squatted down to pull up the back of Bob's track pants from which a couple of inches of the top of his pullup was showing, not that it bothered his playmates. Kate was especially pleased to see Bob so happy, considering his incongruous surroundings. Sally looked up with a grin.'Bobby made carrots!' she said excitedly. 'I showed him how to do it,' grumbled Mark.Stella smiled down at the three. 'Don't be grumpy, Mark. They're lovely carrots, Bobby,' she said with a smirk at Kate. 'And what's this little house?''That's Bugs Bunny's house,' said Bob proudly. 'It's got a chimney, too,' he added, indicating the little stack of red blocks on the roof.'For winter, when Bugs and Mrs Bunny sit by the fire,' said Sally.'I could make a fireplace in there!' said Bob, and began to look around for likely components.'Whoa!' said Kate. 'It's time to pack up now, Mark and Sally have to go home.'There was a joint groan from the floor. Kate wasn't really surprised to see Bob joining in. 'Come on kids, tidy up for Kate please,' said Stella. 'Five minutes. Come on, chop chop!'Reluctantly, the builders began to put the Lego away. A few minutes later, Mark and Sally emerged from the study, followed by Bob. Soon everyone was standing at the door saying their goodbyes.'Bye, Bobby!' said Sally. 'I like your ponytail. It's cool, even if it does make you look like a girl.'Bob giggled. Secretly, he liked it too. He liked the way Kate brushed his hair in the morning , and the feel of her pulling his hair together to put it in the rubber band.Once Kate and the children had left, Kate and Bob sat in the living room. 'That was fun, wasn't it?' asked Kate.'Except I had an accident,' said Bob, looking embarrassed. . 'Oh, honey,' said Kate. 'That's not really a big deal. How's your pullup anyway, sweetie?''My what?' replied Bob.'Your pullup. That's what you're wearing. It's just underpants with a bit of padding,' she explained.'Oh,' said Bob. 'It's OK.''What do you mean, OK?' said Kate. 'Let's have a look.''Kate!' objected Bob as Kate stood him up and poked her hand down the front of Bob's track pants. 'You're wet again, honey,' said Kate. 'Did that happen while you were playing?''I dunno,' said Bob, not looking at her. 'I wasn't playing anyway, I was showing them what to do.'Bob felt confused. He had an odd feeling that he had just travelled backwards in time, and now he was back in the present. Yet he was wearing these padded pants. He was 25 and he worked at a supermarket, but he had just wet his pants while he was on the floor, not actually playing, but with a couple of kids and Legos. His head began to swim a little. 'Bob, there's something I want to talk to you about. Let's go into the bedroom,' Kate said, leading Bob out of the living room. 'What do you want to talk about?' he asked.'Some important things, Bob. You'll see,' said Kate. 'Just sit on the bed for a minute.'Bob sat, wondering what important things Kate wanted to talk about, and why in the bedroom.Kate went to the chest of drawers, and took something from a drawer. Then she bent down and took from a basket on the floor a handful of what looked like underpants.'Bob.' She began, 'I know you're under pressure at work.'Bob was taken aback.'How, how do you know that?' he asked.'Bob, I know Mary Jenkins quite well,' she said. 'I have coffee with her every few weeks. She's the reason you're still at the supermarket.'Bob stared at his wife. This was news to him.'When you were dropped from the management trainee program, it was Mary who suggested that you become the new office ju… office helper to keep things running smoothly,' she said. 'You replaced Jenny, do you remember her?''The work experience girl?' said Bob, surprised. 'But my job is much more than what she did! I go into the manager's office and everything. I take, I take all the, all the till rolls…'Kate could see that Bob's eyes were starting to water, and he was starting to catch his breath as he spoke. She knew what was coming next and she put her arm around her poor husband and her heart went out to him as he tried to defend the value of his job. He wasn't just struggling with the job of office junior, which was the actual description of his job, he was struggling with being an adult. Kate thought how genuinely happy he had been playing with Stella's children, and how he seemed to bloom in the unthreatening, undemanding company of the two kids. He really needed her help, Kate knew. Some months before, when Bob's bedwetting had started, Kate had managed to get Bob to see a friend of hers, a paediatric psychologist who, on a dinner visit to Kate and Bob's, had afterwards expressed her concerns to Kate. She felt that Bob's responses were 'compromised in certain ways' and went on to explain that she thought he may be having a kind of slow breakdown, quite rare, but clearly evidenced by some of Bob's words and actions. Even allowing for the unusual inequality of the power relationship within the marriage, which itself wasn't unusual at all, Kate's friend Julie had said, Bob seemed to be, to put it bluntly, Julie had said, regressing. The bedwetting episodes were part of that, Julie said, and the troubles and lack of progress at work. People tended to treat people as they acted, and while Bob was doing his best to fight against it, he was not succeeding, and often projected a persona that was quite obviously at odds with his chronological age. At these times, his subconscious would overpower his conscious will, and it would appear that he had 'given in' to some bizarre impulse, whereas in fact, his adult personality had been pushed by various factors into the background, and the younger Bob within had emerged.'How horrible,' Kate had said at the time, although even then she had felt a strange tremor of delight that Bob might eventually become little Bobby, fully dependent on her; the baby in diapers she had not been able to conceive with him. However, the thought was so weird and alien, that she had tried to banish it whenever it recurred, but it kept coming back. Sometimes it felt as if she and Bob were in a vortex, both approaching, willingly or unwillingly, the same fate from different angles, and neither able to stop what was happening. Kate and Bobbi Chapter 2 Kate stroked Bob's silky hair as she consoled him, eventually guiding him back to sit on the end of the bed. She put her handful of underpants on the bedspread next to Bob and picked a pair from the pile. They were the full cut white fly style that Kate usually bought for Bob. 'Honey,' Kate said, 'do you know what these are?' Bob was confused. 'They're my underpants, Kate. Why have you got them? I thought I was running short. What have you got them for?' Bob asked. 'Bob, I've got a whole week of your underpants from the wash. I want to show you something. This is Monday's pair. I want you to look at the front of them,' Kate said, holding Bob's questioning gaze. 'Tell me what you see on the front of these undies, Bob!' Kate said. Bob swallowed hard, and flushed a little as he realised what this was about. As Kate spread the front of the underpants in front of Bob, he realised that there was only one answer he could give. 'I, erm, I wet a bit on Monday, I think. Just a bit,' he said quietly, looking at Kate's shoes. 'Bob,'Kate said severely, 'Look at me when I'm talking to you please. Bob, I have more of your underpants here. And not only is this mark urine, but all theses rings are,' she said, spreading the fabric still more to show several concentric rings of greyish-yellow discolouration. Bob looked at her, feeling quite frightened about what Kate was going to say next. 'Bob, I know you try your best, but you just aren't handling your toileting very well. Do you go to the bathroom often enough at work? Bob nodded his head miserably 'Speak, please,' Kate ordered him. 'Yes,' Bob squeaked. 'Well that's not what it looks like. Bob, every single pair of your underpants from last week has been wet. Quite wet. If you didn't wear black pants at work, I think you would have been running around with a big wet patch for everyone to see. Bob, you're setting the bed, and we're managing that, but now you are having serious trouble in the daytime as well. That's obvious from these But that's only half the reason I wanted to have this talk. I want to ask you about these,' Kate said, holding up a stiff, crumpled mass of fabric. 'Bob, I found these behind the cupboard in the bathroom. They must have been there at least a fortnight, because I remember washing these jeans just after hour training class graduation. I want you to tell me the truth about why they were stuffed, stained, and smelly, behind the bathroom cupboard.' Kate was standing up now. Bob looked up at her strong thighs, encased in tight, dark blue denim. The denim hugged the swell of her crotch, with the yellow stitched seam pulling slightly up to divide her vulva with a small valley of denim. Bob knew that beneath the denim were the thinnest of underpants. If Kate peed a drop in her pants it would show. And he was damp nearly all the time. It wasn't fair, Bob thought, and felt the tears rising yet again. 'Well, Bob? I'm really cross about this. Not only are these jeans ruined, but you have deliberately tried to deceive me. Is this what you do at work, Bob? Do you try to lie go the other girls? Because that's what deception is, Bob, it's lying. And I will not have you lying to me,' Kate said. Kate hated lying, and was making herself even angrier by talking about it. 'I wet myself!' Bob said frantically. 'I did and I couldn't help it. We got home from the shops and I had to carry the box in and you kept talking to me and then I tried to get to the bathroom and I took them off and put them there because I didn't want to tell you and I had a shower and put my towel on and said I wasn't feeling well and went to bed and you came in and put my diaper on and I'm not a girl, Kate you said 'other girls'. I'm not a girl, I'm a boy.' Bob finished his epic sentence and sat sniffling quietly. 'Bob,' said Kate, 'I didn't mean to call you a girl but I am still very cross that you tried to trick me.' Kate knew what she had in mind, and squirmed slightly at the thought. She became aware of a feeling in her crotch, and squeezed her thigh muscles hard. She had to bite her lip to stop herself from moaning aloud. She knew she was taking advantage of the situation for her own purposes but didn't care. Bob still had to be taught his lesson about lying. Bob was sitting very quietly. He mumbled something at Kate's apology and stared at the floor, anywhere but at the yellowed undies laid out on the bedspread, or at the dried clump of clothing on Kate's knees. 'Bob,' said Kate, 'Wetting your pants during the day is a very childish thing to do, but I know you can't help it at the moment, but lying to, to me, is also very childish. And trying to trick me is not only childish and silly, but wrong. So I'm going to help you remember not to do it ever again. I know you forget things, Bob, but I don't want you to foget this.' Kate bent over to pull Bob to a standing position. She yanked his track pants to his knees and in one powerful move, she sat and pulled his bare bottom across her knees. 'No! Please!' shouted Bob as he realised what was happening. He hadn't been spanked since he was about 12. Now he was about to be spanked by his wife. Kate's strong hand came down hard on her husband's pale cheeks. After two or three more blows, Bob was crying lustily. Kate felt him peeing on her legs after a couple more solid slaps, but she knew that she was wet enough herself to have to wash her jeans and panties anyway. Now she would have to wash the rug at the foot of the bed, too. After a round dozen hard spanks, Kate let Bob up. He flopped onto the bed and howled his eyes out for the next fiftenn minutes. When he had recivered, and Kate had attended to the washing, she walked back into the room, carrying a bulging shopping bag. She had had a quick shower, and had rubbed herself to another massive orgasm. The first she had had after about spank five. She was too elated to worry that she might be a closet sadist, or at best, kinky. She was focused on dealing with her immature little husband. 'Honey, I know it was painful, but you needed to learn a lesson, and smacking you was the best way to teach it,' Kate said. Bob stayed face down on the bed, but at least he stopped crying as Kate spoke. 'So, sweetheart, we're going to try you in daytime pull-ups for a while. You're ruining your undies, and I think that pull-ups might be just what you need. You can relax a little bit and not worry about hiding things from me. If you wet, I want you to come and tell me, and I'll change you. No more wet undies, honey, so sit up, and I'll put these on you.' And so life went on in Kate's household. Stella continued to visit, and her children enjoyed their interludes with Bobby, as they called the big boy who joined in their games. Bob had continued to have daytime wetting accidents. He explained to Kate that the need to go to the toilet came on quite rapidly sometimes, and he had no time to reach the bathroom before he started wetting, and once started, he found it hard to stop. At other times, he wouldn't even notice until he felt his warm pee flooding his crotch. At first, Bob objected to wearing pull-ups during the day, but soon saw the sense of it. He began wearing pull-ups to work as well, and Kate had arranged for Mary to be his 'mum' at work, as Mary called it, and would help him when he needed it with dry pull-ups from the supply Kate gave her. Bob got over his shyness about standing in front of Mary half naked with his little penis in full view. Mary was kind and gentle with him, and he responded to her care by putting himself completely under her control at those times. Mary felt sorry for Bob, and wondered how he and Kate got on with Bob having such a soft little willy. Even his testicles were small, Mary noticed, just a little pink bulge under the short, finger-sized penis that rested on top. For his part, Bob was continuing to have troubles with his job. He wasn't lazy or deliberately neglectful, but Mary could see that if he were overloaded with instructions, he would manage the first couple of things, but would have difficulty remembering the others. He was increasingly being reprimanded by his superiors, and if he weren't such a little cutie in his store top - the smallest among all the girls who wore them - even the checkout girls would have complained when he failed to carry out their wishes. Things at work came to a head a week after a new store-wide change of unform for 'junior female staff'. It seemed automatic that Bob be included in the change. He wasn't female obviously, but his job was invariably performed by the junior female, usually someone working her way up to being a fully-fledged checkout girl. So Bob handed in his red top and was given a new top, still red, but with his name embroidered in an attractive cursive script on the left breast. Some sort of communication error meant that his name appeared as 'Bobbi'. There were new pants too, snug-fitting red cotton pants with a side zip. Some of the chubbier girls complained that the pants made their tummies too noticeable, but in Bob's case the smooth front, stretching over his pull-up under which his downward-pointing penis was barely noticeable anyway, gave him a crotch indistinguishable from any of the girls who wore the same uniform. Bob was carrying a little extra weight anyway, and his soft features and beautiful hair in its rubber-banded ponytail did nothing to dispel the impression that he was a girl like his co-workers. He began to dislike using the men's bathroom and on the occasions he did use it, he would always sit in a cubicle to pee. He had no choice, really. His new pants didn't allow peeing standing at a urinal. By the end of the week, the supervisors who had been addressing the girls as 'girls and Bob' began to just say 'girls'. Bob was too embarrassed to correct them, and as was his way, he simply accepted it. The following week, Bob had become quite confused with a change in his normal routine, and had left a box of till rolls recording the afternoon's trade at several of the checkouts on a cabinet after Mary had stopped him to ask if he needed his usual afternoon change. The result was a recount of all the tills, and the manager was furious with Bob. Mary found him sobbing in the lunch room. He was so wet that his pull-up had leaked badly, and he had soiled himself. Mary took the afternoon off and took him home, sitting on a towel in her car. Bob calmed down during the trip, when Mary asked him why hadn't admitted that he needed a change when she had asked him, he explained that it was Kate's birthday, and that for once he wanted to be grown up enough not to need Mary to change him at work, and to arrive home without needing anyone's help all day. He showed Mary the bracelet he had bought for Kate with money he had saved from his quite meagre wage. Mary felt close to tears when she read the words on the little plate on the simple bracelet: 'I love you'. The band on Bob's ponytail had slipped down, so ?Mary took it off entirely. She was a little shocked at the result. With his blonde hair now falling over his shoulders and framing his pale, round face, Bob looked almost beautiful, certainly very pretty, even for a girl. Mary wondered how much different, how much better his life would have been if he really were the pretty young girl he now appeared to be. And if she weren't in pull-ups, Mary added to herself. 'Mary, I need to pee again,' said Bob quietly. Mary looked across at him. He really did look unhappy. 'Just hold on until we get you home, hon,' she said. 'It's only a few minutes away now.' Bob nodded, and ?Mary sensed the battle he was having. 'Hon, it's ok if you go in your pull-ups. And you're on a towel. It'll be ok,' she said. Bob nodded again, and brushed the hair from his face. There was a roadblock on the way to Kate's house due to what appeared to be a burst water main. Mary slowed and a burly utility worker approached the car. Mary wound down the passenger side window, and the man leant down, placing his big gloved hand on the roof above the window. 'Sorry, lady, this street's blocked, as you can see. So is Saratoga Avenue a bit further down,' he said. 'Hiya, miss,' he added as Bob glanced up at him. 'Where are you headed?' he asked Mary. 'Pine Boulevard,' said Mary. She heard Bob catch his breath, stifling a sob. 'Is she ok?' asked the man with some concern, looking at the pretty young girl in the passenger seat and noticing her soaked crotch. 'She, she's not very well,' Mary said. 'I'm taking her home to her mum.' 'Sorry to hear that,' the big man said. 'Lady, the quickest way to Pine for you is to go back to Arlington, up onto the freeway, then off at the next exit and come back onto Pine. Hey Bobbi,' he said, reading Bob's embroidered name. 'I'm sure you'll be OK. First job is it? My girl works at the supermarket too. Ellie. You probably know her. Part-time on the checkout, Friday nights and weekends. I'll tell her I saw you. You take care, eh, sweet pea?' 'I will, thanks,' Bob managed. Mary was proud of him. Bob knew Ellie. She came to their training sessions, and at the last end of course party, she had been one of the girls who had made Bob up for the beauty parade, in which he had come second. The judge, the area manager for the stores who had attended the 'graduation', hadn't seemed to realise even as he awarded Bob his ribbon, that the pretty young second place getter was actually a boy, not to mention a man of 25. Bob was quiet for the rest of the way, and only collapsed crying into Kate's arms after Mary had gone. 'Katie, what's happening to me?' he managed between heavy sobs. Kate had no answer, and just hugged him closer. It was the first time Bob had messed his pull-up, and after Kate had cleaned him up and changed him, just in case, into one of his new night time diapers and plastic pants and pulled his track pants over their bulk, she settled Bob in front of one of his favourite cartoon shows on TV and rang her psychologist friend Julie from the privacy of the bedroom. 'The poor thing,' said Julie when Kate had told her what had happened. 'I've got a couple of urology referrals on Wednesday afternoon. You could bring him in after them, at about 3,' Julie said. 'Will he be working?' 'I don't know, Julie,' Kate said. 'One of the staff brought him home, bless her, and she's going to call me tomorrow about Bob's future there. It's not just what happened today. He's been having a hard time there for a while. The other, I mean his workmates have been really good looking out for him, but it really has been a tough time for him.' 'Poor thing,' Julie said. 'It'll work out, I suppose. So I'll see you on Wednesday, then.' 'Yup, see you then,' said Kate and hung up. To be continued.

MIL Chapter 1 ''Because I asked her to and because I'm not happy about leaving you here by yourself,' Judy told her husband. 'Now tidy up your toys unless you want her to think you're untidy as well as irresponsible.' 'I'm not irresponsible,' replied Tim, sitting on the big rug on the floor of the living room and grudgingly putting Lego pieces into the cardboard box next to him. 'Tim, I haven't got time for this,' said Judy. 'Just do as you're told, please.' Judy brushed her slender, manicured hands over the grey satin of her tight skirt. 'And I want you to behave for Mum,' said Judy. 'OK?' 'I still don't know why I can't go,' said Tim unhappily. 'The other husbands are going.' 'Yes, they are,' said Judy, thinking of the handsome bevy of men who would be at her work function. 'But they're not you. I'm not going through this again. Just do as you're told, and try to behave tonight. I don't want any bad reports. Got it?' 'OK, OK,' said Tim. There was no point arguing with Judy. She held all the cards. Tim tried to ignore the rising feeling of helplessness he experienced whenever he thought about what their marriage had become. 'And if you need the bathroom, make sure you get up and go, OK?' said Judy, now ready to leave. 'You insisted on wearing grownup underwear, so show me you are at least mature enough to stay dry till bedtime. Here's Mum now,' she added as the doorbell rang. Judy approached Tim and squatted to kiss him on the cheek. 'Be good,' Judy said, patting the bottom of Tim's track pants as she stood. 'I'll be back to put you to bed,' she added. Tim was glad of that. At least the secret of their marriage would stay their secret. It was bad enough Mrs Evans thinking he was not a good enough husband for her daughter without her knowing that for the last three months he'd needed to wear a diaper at night. Tim got the last of the Legos into the box and put it out of sight next to the sofa as he heard Judy opening the door and talking to her mother. 'Thanks again, Mum,' he heard Judy say as the front door closed. Tim stood up and took a deep breath, preparing for the inevitable. He quickly put his fingers to his crotch, just in case. All dry, he thought, not that he expected to have had an accident. He'd been to the bathroom while Judy was dressing. That was responsible, he thought resentfully. 'Hello, Tim,' said Sarah Evans, looking at Tom without much of a smile. She was tall and well built, like her daughter, and like Judy, a couple of inches taller than Tim. She was wearing tight jeans and a cream knitted top over her generous bust. As usual, Tim felt intimidated by her. Not only was she taller than him, but she was probably stronger and probably a few sizes bigger than Tim in pants and tops. She wasn't chubby, either, despite her wide hips and thick thighs. She still worked out and her body was firm and trim. 'Have you got a kiss for me?' Sarah asked, walking towards Tim and bending slightly to his level. 'Hi Mrs Evans,' said Tim. He'd never called her Sarah. Tim kissed the proffered cheek, tasting the makeup and inhaling Sarah's strong perfume. 'Good boy,' said Sarah. She put down her handbag and sat on the sofa. 'Now, I think we can begin by you telling me about your day,' she said, patting the sofa beside her. Tim sat next to her. She was just as controlling as Judy, he thought angrily. 'Do this, do that.' It wasn't worth resisting. She just got worse. 'Well,' began Tim. 'This morning I did some stuff in the garden with Judy, then I helped her, you know, in the kitchen, then we had lunch, then...' Tim paused. He'd spent most of the afternoon on the floor with the box of Legos. Judy had been sitting at the table in the sun near the window, doing bookwork. Tim had been watching TV, but it was distracting Judy and she'd told him to turn it off. She'd suggested the Legos because she didn't want Tim 'wandering around making a mess'. That was her term for him being out of her sight. They'd always been close, and Tim liked being in her company, but sometimes it felt as though she wanted to keep an eye on him. Fortunately, he'd soon become absorbed in building a house with the Legos, and the afternoon had gone by without him being aware of it. 'Then?' prompted Sarah. Tim resented having to give an account of himself like this, and saying he was playing in the floor with Legos made him sound like a child. 'I was, well, I was doing some construction stuff with, you know, building models,' said Tim, wondering how he could change the topic. When Tim was working, he'd been in the construction industry, and he hoped that his description would satisfy Sarah and they could talk about something else. 'Building models?' asked Sarah. 'What do you mean?' Tim felt embarrassed, but couldn't think of a ready alternative to the truth. 'You know,' he said, 'Legos. They're building models.' Sarah laughed. 'Oh, your Legos,' she said. 'Judy said she'd got you some of those. Did you play with them all afternoon?' Tim felt doubly annoyed, first at Judy for telling Sarah that she'd bought him Legos - why was she even discussing them with her mother, and secondly at Sarah saying he was 'playing'. He was an adult, not a child, and he used the Legos because they were constructive and interesting, not to 'play' with. 'Yes,' said Tim, still trying to think of something else to talk about. 'Well,' said Sarah, 'It will be a while before dinner, and Judy said you'd watched plenty of TV lately. Why don't you get them out and keep playing. I'll let you know when it's time for dinner.' Tim knew that Sarah's suggestion was really a command. Just as with Judy, he felt he didn't have a choice. The only option would lead to an argument, a bad report to Judy, and nothing good coming from it for Tim. 'OK,' said Tim, looking over at the cardboard box he'd carefully put to one side of the sofa. 'Good boy,' said Sarah again. At least he got a bit of praise out of it, thought Tim, even if it weren't the most sincere sort. Unhappily, he dragged the box across the rug and started removing pieces from it. 'What are you going to make, honey?' asked Sarah, who Tim didn't think could really be interested. 'I dunno,' he said, 'A house.' 'OK,' said Sarah. 'You enjoy doing that and I'll get on with my book.' Sarah settled back to read a book she'd brought with her, and Tim, with no choice, began to build a house from the pieces he took from the box. Tim had been working for ten minutes or so when Sarah looked up from her book. 'Judy said you're back in diapers at night, Tim,' she said conversationally. Tim felt the floor fall away, and he blushed furiously. 'I'm not 'back in diapers',' Tim responded angrily. 'Well, since you were younger,' said Sarah, taking off her reading glasses and looking at him. To be continued.

This is my first story on this site, and it owes a great deal to two of my favourite authors here, Elfy and SallyKat. Apologies to both for what is probably a shadow of the real thing. Another more ambitious project is in the works, and I hope to learn some lessons from this first attempt. Feedback welcome. Some unwelcome news…. “That’s, erm, really great,” Greg said. “Super exciting.” He tried hard to make it sound as though he meant it, and that he shared Anna’s joy at the news that his mother-in-law had put in a successful offer for the house next door. In reality he felt as though he’d been punched in the stomach. Kathryn, or rather Dr Kathryn Schwarz as Greg tended to think of her, was now in her early sixties and retired, with too much time and too much money on her hands. Her highly successful career as a research scientist had culminated in a professorship and a very well paid position as a senior adviser to one of the world’s leading pharmaceutical giants. Her one and only husband had died many years previously, a couple of years after the birth of Anna, their only child. Kathryn Schwarz now spent her time travelling and cultivating her stunning garden at the family home in southern California, and she was bored. To Greg, Kathryn always induced what can best be described as imposter syndrome. She was rich, highly intelligent, sophisticated, always immaculately coiffured and dressed, and he felt that she could somehow see straight through him. He was inadequate and barely to be tolerated in her eyes, he felt. Anna, on the other hand, was Kathryn’s princess, and surprise visits to the couple’s small flat in London had become increasingly frequent since the mother's retirement. “I just thought I would stop over for a couple of weeks on my way back from Bhutan/Sri Lanka/the Maldives (insert the name of any other exotic location where Kathryn had been spending her time),” she would say as Greg hauled his mother-in-law’s heavy and expensive luggage up the stairs to their flat. And now, Anna explained, Kathryn planned to spend up to half a year enjoying the cultural delights of London and the rest of Europe from her base next door. Naturally Kathryn had not just bought a flat in the building next door, but the entire three floors plus garden, and she now intended to convert the three flats it contained back into a single family home, complete with accommodation for a cook/housekeeper. Needless to say, this was going to be a major renovation and design project, and Kathryn had told her daughter that she would have to live her (she forgot to mention Greg) while the work was carried out to her specifications. Greg speculated that this would mean living with his mother-in-law for at least six months, and probably rather longer. The prospect filled him with dread. Kathryn moves in Weeks went by while the lawyers completed the purchase of Number 8, Wellington Gardens until one day Anna announced that her mother would be arriving the following Monday to begin the renovation project by interviewing prospective architects, project managers and builders. That left Greg with one final weekend of freedom for the foreseeable future, and he made plans for a couple of days of footie and heavy drinking. Greg had met Anna at university, and having graduated and embarked on their respective careers, they had married shortly after their 24th birthdays which both fell in May. Anna worked in PR and was clearly headed for a glittering career; Greg worked in IT for a publishing house. After four years of marriage the couple had no plans to start a family, although Anna sometimes toyed with the idea of what it might be like to have a baby. But there was still plenty of time, and she settled down into a routine of work and visiting art galleries and painting in her spare time. Greg, on the other hand, never seemed to grow up. Ever since his teenage years, his passions had been playing football, or soccer as Anna insisted on calling it, going to watch his team play, and long, boozy sessions with his mates in the pubs and bars of north London. For Greg Wednesday nights were practice nights, followed by a trip to a pub; Thursday nights usually found him out somewhere with his work colleagues; Friday nights were usually spent at home before he headed off to watch his team play on Saturdays, followed by post-match analysis over yet more beers. Sunday mornings saw Greg playing for the second team down at the park, followed once again by beers with his mates. Unsurprisingly, Anna had come to feel neglected by her husband, and although he had tried to persuade her to come and join him and his mates for drinks on a Sunday lunchtime, she never felt comfortable in the company Greg kept, and so she stayed alone or headed off to one of her beloved art galleries. Kathryn had been observing her daughter’s increasingly sterile and boring married life on her trips to London, and now she resolved that it was time to intervene. Anna clearly loved Greg, that much she knew, and as she settled into the small guest bedroom, Kathryn was confident that an extended stay with her daughter and son-in-law would give her scope to carry out more than one project. The ten week project Kathryn had spent her first couple of weeks busying herself with the building project, but that still left her with plenty of spare time during which she set about building up a social network and doing household chores to help her daughter while she was at work. The household chores involved food shopping, a little light cleaning and doing the laundry for Anna and Greg. It was while she stood folding a pile of freshly laundered clothes one day that Kathryn broached the subject of Greg with her daughter. “How are things with Greg?” she asked. “He certainly seems to spend a lot of time kicking a ball around and consuming beers.” Anna felt as though a dam had burst, as she poured out her long pent-up frustration and feelings of neglect. “I love him, I really do,” she sobbed, “but it gets so lonely, and I don’t know what I can do to persuade Greg to spend more time together.” Kathryn hugged her daughter and said, “I’ve been giving this some thought and I think I know what we need to do, but you are going to have to trust me 100% and do exactly as I say for this to work.” “OK,” Anna replied, slightly nervously. “What do you have in mind?” “In essence we need to work on Greg’s motivation so that rather than wanting to spend time with his friends drinking and playing soccer, he comes to understand that he is happier and feels more secure being with you. To the extent that he actually does not want to go out with his friends any more.” Anna listened intently. This seemed to make sense, and she respected her mother’s experience and thoughtful approach. “First things first,” Kathryn said, as she gestured to a pile of Greg’s colourful boxer briefs. “These have to go. Young men these days don’t like wearing plain white briefs, and Greg will probably be embarrassed to be seen wearing them in the locker room. It’s a small beginning, but it will unsettle him slightly. At the same time, you need to reward him for wearing more manly underwear, and that will mean conditioning him to associate your choice of underwear for him with sex.” “OK,” said Kathryn. “I understand. But is there anything else?” “Changing his underwear is just the first step of a ten week plan,” Kathryn explained. “In one of my last projects before retiring I supervised the development of a new drug for use in a specialised branch of urology. Essentially the drug gradually shrinks a patient’s bladder and reduces control. It is still pending approval, but extensive testing has shown very encouraging results, and one of my contacts has provided me with a supply.” Anna looked worried. “I don’t want to hurt him or cause him any long-term damage. I could never do that.” “Don’t worry. Greg will not experience any pain, and his loss of control will be gradual and in time, the evidence suggests that he will return to normal bladder function.” After discussing the implications and details, Anna found herself agreeing to go with her mother’s plan, beginning immediately. Her first task was to head off to the shops while Greg was still away at soccer to buy six pairs of plain white men’s briefs. The boxers would go to recycling.

I’m looking for advice on swim diapers! I live in Florida! Land of pools and beaches! So swim diapers are a nessary part of any hopeful 24/7 diaper wearers wardrobe!!! I know they don’t do anything for pee but I’m more interested in theme for poop! Lol I’ve here’d that adult disposable swim diapers are only good for the amount of time it takes to poop and then get out and change! Is this true? I’d really like some that would allow me to poop and stay in the pool until it’s convenient for me to go change!!! Lol thank you!

I'm looking for other diaper lovers here in north east Oklahoma I'm also looking for a girl who's also a diaper lover too perhaps we can start a community in Oklahoma