Search the Community

Disclaimer--All characters are fictional and meant to be over age 18. Be warned: this is a non-consensual story, but he comes around in the end. Among the stories I've written, this one has the happiest ending. Chapter 1 Julie was waiting for him in the hall when he opened the bathroom door, so he immediately felt guilty. He wasn’t sure if she had been waiting to use it, or if she had an urgent patient question. But either way, she didn’t look happy, and he felt a little self-conscious that she had been waiting on him to finish peeing. Standing right outside the door drew attention to his bathroom habits, and he had always been shy about other people knowing he was “doing his business”. When she urgently signaled to follow her toward the hallway that ran the length of the building to their pod of exam rooms, he walked closely behind. It was always good to keep your nurse happy; he had learned that in medical school. It made your day MUCH easier. She walked into their work room, a small space with a diminutive computer work station for each of them and a set of cabinets, as well as an old exam table, which was no longer used for patients. They usually piled supplies on it these days, though today it happened to be bare. She waited for him to come in, then closed the door behind him. She paused. He waited, a bit mystified. After a moment she met his eyes, lips pressed firmly together. “We need to talk,” she said tensely. He blinked. “Ok, what’s up?” Julie Davis had been his nurse for nearly a year now, having been hired shortly after he was. She was efficient, smart, and personable. The patients loved her, and he appreciated her as a competent and friendly assistant with a sharp wit. In addition, she was pretty as hell. He’d never seen her upset or angry, but she seemed a little of both right now. It caught his attention. She squinted a little. “What should I do if there is a doctor in the practice who is being irresponsible, keeping patients waiting every day, slowing down employees, and keeping them from going home to their family at night? What should I do?” He was curious. He had a handful of partners. They were relatively tight-knit. This would be news. “Probably tell him. Or her, I guess. They’d want to know.” “Yeah?” She paused, considering. “I guess that’s right.” He sat down at his workstation, interested in the gossip. “Who is it?” She looked up at him. “Well, actually…it’s you.” He shifted uncomfortably, taken aback at first. “Are—are you serious? Me? Really? Wha–” He was lost. She sat down, but her eyes never left his face. “You spend half an hour or more in the potty every single day, keeping patients waiting, and keeping me from getting home to my kids. It has to stop.” His eyebrows furrowed. He was distracted by the use of the word, “potty”. She used it often, instead of the more common—and adult—“bathroom” or “restroom”. He knew she was a single mom with small children, so he assumed it was a habit. But it was odd, and a little embarrassing that she used it with him. It made him feel like a little kid. Especially in this context. “You’ve been…timing me? Thaaat seems a little weird. Normally, I wouldn’t mind the extra attention, especially from you.” He raised his eyebrows at her with a smile, pretending to flirt. He would never come on to her. He felt strongly about professional boundaries and was careful about sexual harassment. But it was amusing to fake it sometimes, and humor was useful in defusing awkward situations like this. Was she really talking about how long he spent in the bathroom?! “But…well, it’s the bathroom, right? So…” She didn’t hesitate. “Well, I wasn’t timing you at first. But it has gotten a little ridiculous, and I started wondering just how long your patients and I spend waiting for you.” He looked down, embarrassed. Ok, so humor wasn’t working. Yet. She seemed to be waiting for him to answer, however, and he wasn’t sure what to say. “Well, everybody needs to go to the bathroom. I can’t just turn that function off, you know?” “But no one spends so much time peeing. Or pooping.” She smiled a little to herself, and he was sure she said, under her breath, “Or…whatever.” He reddened but said nothing. Was she implying what he thought she was? What could you say to this? In truth, he had spent a lot of time in the bathroom. It was the only place the staff couldn’t bother him. He spent the time playing on his phone, and, though he would certainly never admit it to anyone, had in fact pleasured himself–rarely–in the past. He couldn’t believe she had been paying attention. He didn’t know whether he had a right to be offended, or just to be embarrassed. When he didn’t immediately speak, lost in thought about how he could possibly respond, she pressed on. “Of course, it’s none of my business what my doctor does in his spare time. But this isn’t spare time. This is work time, and you are being rude to your patients and to me.” Her cheeks were flushed. If anything, it made her look prettier than usual. At any other time, he would be attracted to her. He swallowed. He thought he could see where she was going. “Well, I’m sorry, of course. I can hurry in the future.” He nodded to himself. “I wasn’t really thinking about your time. I will hurry.” Julie sighed. “I doubt it.” She stood up, and he subconsciously backed his chair up, surprised. She confidently continued, “I came up with my own plan,” looking down at him sternly. He thought for a moment that this was probably how her children felt. It was intimidating. “I thought I would put a diaper on you, and I’d change you when you needed it during the day. It would be a more efficient system, because I can do that quickly, and you wouldn’t have to stop in the middle of seeing patients to go hide in the potty.” He laughed out loud. This humor definitely helped defuse the tension in the room, and he appreciated it. But he stopped when he saw that she wasn’t smiling. Why not? This was a ridiculous idea. She had to be kidding. “I can’t—wait, you’re not seriously suggesting that, are you?” “Of course I am. You said before that everyone has to go to the potty. That’s not quite true,” she said, sitting down again across from him. “Everybody needs to pee, and everybody needs to poop, but not everyone needs to go to the potty to do it. It would save loads of time and make you a more efficient doctor. Agreeing to let me diaper you would show that you care about your patients. And about your staff, or at least about their time.” He stared at her, trying to decide if she was pulling his leg. Finally, he shook his head. “Yeah, wellll, don’t be silly. That’s never gonna happen. I’m an adult, and I plan to go on using the bathroom like other adults. But I’m sorry about inconveniencing you. I’ll be faster when I have to go.” She pursed her lips and smiled at him. “Adults wear diapers, you know. Cool adults, even. Like astronauts and race car drivers. You could be like an astronaut!” Again, it was hard to tell if she was joking. She seemed earnest about this. “Maybe they do, Julie, but that ain’t gonna happen. Let’s drop it. I could never agree to that.” He couldn’t shake the idea that she was putting him on. But she wasn’t smiling at all. She had an intense kind of look in her eye. “You could,” she insisted. “You would show that your patients’ and staffs’ time is important to you. That would be admirable. You’d have nothing to be embarrassed about.” She nodded at him seriously. “It’ll work. You’ll see. Let’s try it!” But he refused to accept the suggestion. He thought he was being generous enough to take her seriously. But this was bizarre. He’d have to reconsider what he thought of Julie’s common sense. If she thought this was a reasonable plan, what else did she think? What a wacko. “I’m sorry, but that’s just too weird. I promise you I’ll be more mindful of your time. But I can’t do…that.” Julie stared at him for a moment. Then she slowly nodded solemnly. “Well, we can try it your way. But if you can’t go faster, I won’t take no for an answer.” She sat back down but held his eyes with her own. “Let’s be clear about my expectations, since I’m not sure you even know what’s normal. “If you are peeing, I want you in and out of the potty in 60 seconds. At your age, there is no reason it should take longer. If you have to poop, it is okay to spend as long as 5 minutes, but no more.” He blushed as she talked to him so graphically, and again felt like a child. What was she going to do now, tell him how to wipe? This was ridiculous, and he found it impossible to engage in this…negotiation, or whatever it was. Instead, anxious to get out of this conversation as quickly as possible, he shook his head. This was humiliating. “Julie, I’ll be quicker. Can we just leave it at that? Now, do we have patients?” Her hand shot out and grabbed his. “Not so fast. I’m serious. I need an agreement from you before we move on. If you take longer than that, we’re going with my plan. Agreed?” He hesitated. He knew he could never accept that. “Julie, seriously. Please!” he said in exasperation. If there was one thing that embarrassed him, it was talking about his bodily functions. Here they were talking about timing his bowel movements. But Julie shook her head. “Nope. I want a commitment from you. We’ll go with diapers if you need it, okay?” Frustrated, he protested, “I don’t think I can agree to that. It’s crazy!” “Fine. Then agree to the deal, and then don’t be slow. It is entirely under your control.” “Argh,” he groaned, blushing furiously. “Okay, just drop it.” Julie nodded, still looked at him closely. “I will drop it, for now. But be careful. We have a deal, and I will collect on that deal if I need to. I’ll be watching.” And he was convinced that she would be. He noticed her interested glance when he walked the long hallway back to the bathroom during the next few days. He even found her outside the bathroom door occasionally, which kind of freaked him out. But he found that as long as he was attentive and mindful, he wasn’t in danger of incurring her wrath. It turned out she was right about the time frames in the bathroom. It was his growing confidence that turned out to be his downfall. More than 2 weeks later, he was harried and stressed, and ducked into the bathroom, unable to keep from glancing at Twitter while he relieved himself. There was an article on his football team’s plans for the upcoming draft, suggesting that the backup quarterback might be trade bait. He appreciated the momentary escape from his day, and didn’t even realize he was 4.5 minutes over his agreed limit until he opened the bathroom door and literally walked into her tapping her foot in the hallway outside. He glanced down at her, surprised to find someone there. When he saw her determined expression, he was so preoccupied that he was genuinely surprised. It finally dawned on him why she might be there, and what the upset look on her face might mean. His stress level returned to pre-Twitter levels. She was going to need to be mollified somehow. She pointed at his chest, and then toward their work space. She turned on her heels and strode away without looking back. He hung his head, embarrassed to have this talk again. Seriously—why wouldn’t she let this drop? He was trying, right? On his way back to the workspace, he started thinking that perhaps he’d need a new nurse. As nice and efficient as Julie was, her preoccupation with the bathroom–and diapers?!–was a bit alarming. It was midmorning, and there was a lull in his schedule, but still. Was it fair to him to keep him from his inbox to talk about the “potty”? She entered the work room first, then stood aside to let him past her. He dutifully went, trying to think about what to say to deflect her anger, and how to set this weird relationship straight. He was the boss in this relationship. She needed to understand that. When he passed her, he was startled to see her shut and lock the door behind them. She stood in front of the door. He paused awkwardly, not sure how to address her actions. But she didn’t wait for him. “I’ll give you this: you held it together longer than I thought you would,” Julie said, shaking her head. “But, of course, here we are. Were you peeing or pooping?” He reddened. She was so blunt and direct about these things. He couldn’t think fast enough to lie. “Peeing,” he said quietly. He was glad he hadn’t been moving his bowels. He wasn’t even sure he could say the other word in front of someone. “Wow. 5 and a half minutes for peeing. Did you get lost? Maybe you had trouble finding it?” she asked sarcastically. He realized that he should feel offended, but she was talking again. “You really think I couldn’t have changed a diaper and had you back to work in 5 and a half minutes?” He stood silently, shocked that she was again discussing the diaper thing. What else could he say to bring her back to reality? Is suggesting that he wear diapers enough cause for firing someone? He struggled to find the right words to say to her. But she plowed right on. “Well, I guess we’re going to find out now, aren’t we? Pull your pants down while I get a diaper out.” She turned to the cabinet and pulled open a door, where an unopened pack of adult diapers had apparently been waiting. He frowned. He knew the office didn’t stock those. He was freshly embarrassed by the idea that she had gone shopping and purchased them specifically for him, expecting him to need them. Had they been here ever since their previous conversation?! Julie pulled out the package, ripped open the bag, and pulled out a diaper, setting it on the counter while she put the pack away again. She reached up into a nearby cabinet and found a bottle of baby powder and a blue pad, then turned back to him. “Pick up the pace. We’ve got someone scheduled in a few minutes.” He stared at her, unable to believe that she really expected to go through with this. “You can’t be—“ “Of course I’m serious,” she interrupted him sternly. “We had a deal. So get your pants down around your ankles and hop up on the table.” His mouth dropped open. “NOW.” He suddenly found it hard to swallow. She was a nut job. “Look, Julie, I appreciate your concern, and I’m sorry, but—“ She walked back over to the door and stood in front of it as he trailed off, intimidated a bit by her confidence. “But what?” “But I told you before that I wouldn’t go through with this…this plan. I just can’t do that.” “You can and you will,” she snapped. “You specifically promised me you’d do it. I told you that it was entirely under your control. You could have avoided wearing diapers, but you didn’t. Today, it wasn’t even a close call.” She paused, seeming to consider. “One might even wonder if you were asking for this.” She tilted her head and looked curiously at him. “Were you?” “No!” he exclaimed. “Of course not. And I wasn’t seriously agreeing to this. I—I can’t do this. I can’t—“ he lowered his voice. “I can’t pull down my pants in my own office. I can’t wear a diaper. I can’t let you see me naked, or talk about my…time…in the bathroom. You’re my employee. I’m your boss. I just can’t. You need to drop it. Let’s get back to work.” He started for the door, but she resolutely stood in his way. “Pants down, hop up.” She stared at him. He froze, completely undone by her attitude. “Look, we’re not getting back to work until you are wearing that diaper. The door is locked. No one will know you’re wearing a diaper unless you tell them, and I can’t imagine you will. It will be under your pants, and no one will be able to tell. No one cares what you wear for underpants. “I care about you as a doctor and a person, and I firmly believe this is in your best interest, not to mention the interest of your patients and of me. Now get those pants down so we can move forward.” He looked at her helplessly. “I…I…can’t…” She suddenly took a step forward. She had a steely look in her eye. “Young man, you’ve got until I count to 3. One…” She raised her eyebrows at him. He stood frozen, afraid. “Two…” He folded. He had no idea why, but he didn’t want her to get to 3. What did he think would happen, here, in his office? But she’d assumed the “mom look” that did not invite argument. He had made that mistake as a child, and it hadn’t ended well. So it was more instinct than anything else that led to his obeying her. His hands, trembling, went to his belt, and he hurriedly unbuckled it and then unbuttoned his slacks. He started easing them down his legs, and tried to look up at her. He couldn’t quite meet her gaze. But Julie smiled, and said contentedly, “That’s better. I knew you’d be a good boy. Now, walk—or shuffle, I guess—over to the table behind you.” His face burned. He glanced around and saw he was a few feet away from the exam table she indicated. He felt ridiculous as he tried to walk and found, as she said, that he needed to shuffle his feet, moving over to the table. She walked around to the end of the table and patted it gently. “Up you go.” He couldn’t believe this was happening. He tried not to think, doing as she asked now without questioning. He backed up to the table and edged onto it, feeling the cold vinyl against his bare thighs. She had guided him to a point a few feet from the end, and, once seated, she gently indicated that he was to swing his legs up to the end of the table and lie down. He took a deep breath and lay back. She cooed, “Good boy. Now let’s get those undies down…” Feeling her hands tugging on his boxers sent him into a bit of a panic. “Wait!” he said, sitting up again. “Um—uh—why don’t we—I mean, why can’t I just put it on myself? I’m not a baby, you know.” He was breathing heavily from the fear that she would see him naked. He wasn’t a virgin, but the number of women who had seen him naked was a very small number. She stared down at him for just a moment before shaking her head. “No, I’m sorry, that wouldn’t be a good idea. How many diapers have you changed?” He stared at her. “Well, none. But I’m a doctor. How hard can it be? Can you just show me—generally—what to do?” He nodded to himself, and spoke more quickly and confidently. “I mean, then you don’t have to be directly involved, and your time won’t be wasted. That would let you get home earlier to see your family,” he added, thinking that might sound appealing. She seemed to like his eagerness, and smiled at him, almost fondly. This made him think that maybe he could sway her, and could make his fate a little less humiliating. ”That’s sweet of you to think of me that way.” But then she said, “But it is a tricky job getting the diaper to lie flat so that no one will see it or hear it, and so that it won’t leak. Keeping it all secret from your patients is the most important thing, don’t you think? I don’t think we want to leave your secret in the hands of an amateur. What if you left a little space for wetness to leak out and walked around with wet pants for the afternoon?” She waited for that image to form in his mind, and was rewarded with his brow furrowing slightly. “And then there is my suspicion that if you can’t just pee in a reasonable amount of time, how likely is it that you could pee and then change your own diaper in a reasonable amount of time? No, if this is to be helpful to you, and to your patients, and to me, I’ll have to be the one to do it.” She smiled at his sinking expression. “I can tell you are embarrassed. Is it because I’m going to see your pee-pee?” If it was possible, he reddened still further. “But really–it will be okay. Remember, I’m a professional nurse, not to mention a mom of boys, and you don’t have anything I haven’t seen before. If it could be done without seeing you naked, we would do it that way. But it can’t be helped, so let’s just act professionally and get through it. Afterward, I think you’ll be relieved that it wasn’t nearly as big a deal as you thought. Now, let’s get to it.” She glanced at the clock on the wall. “We’ll have patients very soon.” Defeated, he let her push him gently back into a lying position. She put her hands on his hands and moved them to his sides, away from his boxers. “Let’s get these big-boy undies down.” Her hands gripped the lower outside corners of his boxers. “Lift your bottom,” she coaxed. He took a breath, looked away, and did as she asked. Once his rear end had cleared the table, shoes firmly on the end of the table, she efficiently pulled down his boxers and slid a blue pad under him. “Okay, back down again.” He could feel the cool soft flat surface under his backside. “Just some basics here. Your cooperation will go a long way toward making this efficient and fast. And I’m sure you want this to be quick. First, your knees should always be as wide apart as you can get them. Ok?” she asked, “Knees apart.” She waited for him to nod. “Second, you’ll always start with your feet down on the table, with your knees apart, of course. That is the ‘down’ position, obviously.” Again he acknowledged her, dimly aware that she had waited for him to be naked to be having this detailed instructional talk. “Third, I’ll need you to lift up your legs so I can remove the old diaper and/or place the new one in place. When you do that, you’ll want to grab your knees (still wide open, right?) and pull them as far as you can toward your shoulders. We’ll call that position, ‘up.’ Okay?” He nodded numbly. He just wanted this to be over. “Finally, we’ll want you in the ‘down’ position again. And your knees?” she prompted him, an expectant smile on her face. “What?” he asked. He was trying to pretend this wasn’t happening. It didn’t help to be asked a question that reminded him he was a person and was helping this process. “Where will your knees be when your legs and bottom come back down onto the new diaper?” she asked patiently. “Oh, uh, open?” he mumbled distractedly. Could this really be happening? “Right! Great job,” she praised him, holding her hand up to be high-fived like he was a little child. “Now, let’s just practice that once or twice to make sure you’ve got it in your head. We want it to be fast in the future.” He sighed silently. “First down.” He kept his feet on the table, knees bent, and opened his legs slightly. He was secretly focused on hoping she wasn’t going to look at or comment on his penis, and was desperately hoping it wasn’t going to become erect. That was the main reason he wanted this over with. “Ah, ah,” she clucked, staring at his groin, her hands moving to his inner thighs. “THAT is not ‘wide open.’” She pushed his knees gently until they were nearly flat against the table, completely exposing his privates. He blushed with humiliation. “That’s better. THAT’S how wide apart your legs need to be. And now, ‘up’.” He was partially in his own whirling world of embarrassment, and was slow to realize she wanted him to move again. “Come on now, up you go,” she prompted again, tapping his bottom to get his attention. He quickly pulled his knees up toward his shoulders, rotating his bottom up toward her. He realized suddenly that now she had an excellent view of his wide open backside, something that no woman other than his own mother had ever seen, as far as he knew. He flushed further as he noticed her eyes drop to his bottom and look appraisingly. She made a little sound he couldn’t interpret, but seemed to want to move past it. She again urged his legs further apart, stretching him as wide as possible, and tapped his bottom up a bit more. Then she smiled and said, “Excellent. That will work nicely.” He heard a rustling sound and felt her touch his lower back. “After you are cleaned up and a new diaper is in place, you’ll hear me say, ‘down,’ again, and that will be your cue to lower your legs into the original position.” He did, relieved, and felt a bulky soft sensation under his upper buttocks as he set down. He knew what that was without having to look, and thought maybe he might be sweating. He started to close his legs instinctively, but felt her hands again on his thighs. “Not yet. Still wide apart. Pretty much always wide apart for me, please, until you sit up.” He felt a cool sensation over his bottom and genitals, and started to glance down before he caught the scent of baby powder. He glanced down in alarm, and saw her shaking a baby powder bottle over him. A quick shake here and there, and she was done. He was too stressed to admit it had always been a smell he enjoyed. He certainly couldn’t admit that here, now. Next he felt her pull the diaper up through his legs and tape it firmly in place on his lower belly. It felt snug and comfortable, but substantial, between his legs. He was very grateful not to be naked, and even happier that he hadn’t developed an erection during the procedure. That seemed like a miracle, given the fact that a pretty young woman was inches away from his naked body. But his stress and worry seemed to have protected him for the time being. “Okay, sit up now,” she directed him. And he did so, pulling his knees together and swinging around to hang them over the table. It was a little awkward to feel the bulk between his legs, and he heard a rustle as he moved. “You did wonderfully! Quite the big boy. Wasn’t that easy and painless?” she asked, smiling. He grunted a little. It had actually hurt, but only his pride. He had to admit that, even with the instructions, she had done that very fast. But what could he possibly say out loud? “Well, I know you can’t admit it, but you did fine. I think this will work very well. Now, you should be careful standing up, because your pants are still down. You can pull them up now, and see how that feels.” He quickly moved to follow her directions, happy to cover up the diaper, which must look ridiculous on him. He pulled up his boxers, which slid slickly over the plastic of the diaper, and then pulled his pants up while she folded up the blue pad and put the baby powder away. He was able to button them fairly easily, and the zipper was a little tight, but he got that up as well. He finished and looked down to make sure it looked acceptable. She turned and looked as well. “Well, that’s not too bad at all, is it? I wouldn’t be able to tell you are wearing a diaper!” she remarked cheerfully. He wasn’t sure. The front of his khakis definitely puffed out, and though he turned his head, he couldn’t really tell about the back. “I don’t know,” he said hesitantly. “Won’t people be able to tell right away?” “Nonsense,” she said, unlocking but not opening the door. “If you didn’t know, you wouldn’t know to look. People aren’t nearly that smart, and people are too polite to stare at your crotch. You’re just overly sensitive.” She turned around again to look him in the eye. “No one will know. It is our secret.” He thought of something else and tensed up. “You put baby powder on me,” he said accusingly. “I’m sure people will smell it.” Julie smiled. “Well, maybe,” she admitted. “But they’ll just think you smell nice. I personally LOVE that smell. And it is way better than smelling like a used diaper, isn’t it?” She was gratified to see his eyebrows twitch with concern. She came nearer and took his hands in hers. “You’ll be just fine. There are really only two things to remember: first, no potty breaks. Second, when you think you need to be changed, come see me.” She saw him swallow self-consciously. “You’ll do fine. Pretend it’s not there. You’ll be used to it in no time.” “Wait—“ he stammered. That made him consider something for the first time. “How long do I have to wear this?” She wrinkled her brow and cocked her head slightly, as if she had misheard him. “What do you mean?” He cleared his throat. “I mean, I didn’t ask before. But this is just for this morning, right? Or today? To prove a point? When can I be done?” He chanced a brief look at her face, but found it hard to meet her eyes. She was 5-6 inches shorter than he, but seemed very intimidating right now. He stared at the floor. She, however, reached out for his chin and brought it up, forcing him gently to look at her. “Sweetie, this isn’t just for the morning or today. But let’s just get through today and tomorrow and then…we can talk about it, okay?” She smiled at him. He nodded thoughtfully, as he thought this sounded like it was up for discussion. He would have to think about what he would say tomorrow to convince her to give it up. Why hadn’t he negotiated how long this would last before he agreed to it? He wandered away, and she watched the diaper through his pants shift back and forth, rustling gently. He wasn’t quite waddling, but the diaper was definitely changing the way he walked. She adored that look in her boys, but was starting to think she might like it even better in her doctor. That could NOT have gone better, from her perspective. She’d planned this for a long, long time, working out options for every possible contingency. She’d expected reluctance, of course. Julie had hoped she wouldn’t need to threaten him, and was very happy she didn’t need to. A lot of what she had planned depended on trust. This doctor was naïve, well-intentioned, attractive, and single. From the moment she had started working for him, she had fantasized about being with him. He hadn’t asked her out yet, so she’d needed to jump-start their relationship. Nothing like having a man naked on a table in front of you to force some intimacy! She had guessed correctly that he could be motivated by his desire to be a better doctor and employer. She knew he was shy, and that was why she took the leap today. She had a little experience bossing around men, and had generally found she liked it. It was part of why she liked being a nurse. Patients responded well to her. But this was a little different. Yes, she truly had a good excuse to diaper him. But this could also turn into a serious, long-term project, and she had high hopes for where it could eventually lead. For now, she had to nurture him through the next few hours carefully and gently. Then she could worry about the next few days and weeks. One step at a time. Chapter 2 He was extremely self-conscious of every step. In his mind, the diaper was clearly visible and audible to everyone, though oddly no one seemed to be commenting about it. His cheeks burned as he made his way through the hallways from exam room to exam room. He could feel it, warm and bulky between his legs, hear it rustling quietly with every step, see it bulging gently under his khakis, and when he sat down, he could smell the faint scent of baby powder. But even in the quiet exam rooms, patients didn’t seem to want to say anything about it. Were they too embarrassed for him to mention it? Was it really possible that they weren’t noticing? As the morning wore on, it became clear that a fair number of them, anyway, couldn’t tell. If he just pretended nothing was wrong, they seemed to carry on that way, too, and with every visit that passed, he did relax a little bit. He tried to keep up conversation during quiet times when he had to move around, just in case he needed to mask the sound. The growing pressure in his bladder was tolerable. He had already had his bathroom break, after all, so it wasn’t difficult to ignore the issue until lunchtime. This was when he usually got a second break to hit the restroom. When he finished seeing patients for the morning, he felt like it was a little silly not to go. After all, there weren’t patients waiting. Would Julie really mind? On his way over to the lunch room he turned down the hall to the bathroom. As luck would have it, he met Julie coming out of the bathroom, the smell of soap fresh on her hands. She stopped and looked him up and down as he stood, surprised and unprepared to meet her. There was nothing else along this part of the hall that he could say he was going to do. “So…what’s up?” she asked, smiling pleasantly, as if they were pals meeting on the street. “I, just, well, needed to…” he faded out, not willing to discuss it with her. Suddenly he realized she might be serious about not wanting him to go to the bathroom. “Were you heading to the potty?” He nodded, at first not saying anything. “Well, I finished seeing patients, so, um, I—well, I—thought it might be okay to, um…” he stammered, looking at his feet. “Hmmm,” she said, nodding. “Well, I don’t remember telling you that you could go to the potty. In fact, I distinctly remember telling you that you were NOT to use the potty at all today.” She touched his elbow gently, making him look up briefly at her. “Remember?” “Yes, but—“ “Yes, ma’am, please,” she corrected quietly, as if it were a common error she had corrected before. He stopped and looked at her briefly, and decided he didn’t want to make a big deal about that right now. “Yes, ma’am, but there aren’t any patients waiting. I thought that was the point.” She glanced around to make sure they were alone. Everyone else had gone off to lunch. “Well, it was part of the point. We’re also trying to make sure that I and your other employees get home as soon as they can. And if you are fiddling around in the potty, you aren’t working or eating, and that will lengthen our day. “I don’t want you in the potty at all today. If you have to pee, I want you to pee in your diaper. Is it too wet to pee in?” He looked confused for a moment. She saw he didn’t understand. She clarified, “Did you already wet your diaper? If you pee again, will your diaper leak?” “Of course not!“ he said, startled that she thought he might have peed in this thing. “Then feel free to tinkle away. You don’t need the potty right now.” He looked unhappy. She knew she had to sound reasonable. “Look, you’re free to use the potty after the patients are gone and your staff is home, or if there aren’t patients waiting and your task list is caught up. But you know as well as I do that you pretty much always have a task list. If today isn’t that rare day—and it isn’t because I just saw your task list—I don’t want you wasting time in the potty. You’ve got something else you can use now. “So…off you go to lunch. Don’t dilly-dally. See you afterward!” She turned him gently and patted him on his padded bottom. To his credit, she thought, he didn’t talk back or seem angry. Just quiet, like he needed time to readjust. He was thinking that he wasn’t truly desperate yet. His bladder wasn’t comfortable, but he could wait to pee. He certainly wasn’t going to do it in his diaper. That would be ridiculous, just what she wanted, and presumably would put him right back up on that changing table for more embarrassment. It was one thing to be forced to wear the diaper, but another thing to use it willingly. He was thinking about how little he could get away with drinking at lunch. He was just wondering if he could last until his patients were done that afternoon! He was sitting down to lunch with the other doctors and a drug rep—without a drink—when Julie walked past with her food and set a tall glass of water down in front of him. She winked at him and said to the others, “Wouldn’t want my doctor to get dehydrated! It’s a long day.” He was really starting to resent her, but–he didn’t need her to be upset with him. That could make their working relationship very difficult, and could cause his task list to grow dramatically. Keeping his nurse happy had truly become instinctual. So he said out loud, “Well, thanks!” She said, “You’re welcome,” and kept walking, but paused at the door and looked at him pointedly, raising her eyebrows. He raised the glass to his lips and took a token sip, setting it down again quickly. She didn’t budge. She kept staring at him, until others turned to see what was going on. Uncomfortable, he sheepishly took a longer draught of the water, until she nodded and left, smiling. Now he had a foreboding feeling. She was going to force him to pee. Not explicitly, but it was not going to be easy to hold off if he had to drink to make her happy. He’d have to talk to her about that. He finished his lunch and went to his desk, working for another 15 minutes on his task list. He worked hard, returning calls and forwarding messages to patients, hoping that the faster he got done, the sooner he could go home and escape this crazy day. And if he hurried, maybe he wouldn’t have to pee before finishing. But the longer he worked, the more the pressure in his bladder grew. Crap. He got up momentarily about 5 minutes before the first afternoon patient was scheduled to put some therapy forms in the “out” bin. While he was up, Julie walked into the work room. She walked right up to him and shocked him by cupping his crotch with her hand. “How’s it going?” she asked pleasantly. He yelped and jumped back reflexively. “Whoops! Sorry, force of habit,” she said, smiling a little. “Just checking to see if you needed to be changed.” “Well you could have just asked me!” he exclaimed, his cheeks burning at the reminder that he had been reduced to the level of one of her little boys. “Okay,” she replied. “Although I guess I already know the answer. ‘Do you need to be changed?’ I’ll point out that I do have about 2-3 minutes before the first patient comes to change your diaper if you do.” “Oh! No,” he replied quickly. “No need.” He tried to sound offhanded, but it came out seeming tense. Her eyes narrowed slightly. “Really? That seems kind of strange. You always use the potty before the afternoon. You must really need to go. Are you holding back just so you won’t have to be changed? Are you scared of me?” She smiled to make it seem like a silly idea. “I doubt you can make it through the whole afternoon. You’ll be so uncomfortable.” He shifted positions a little, quite aware of the discomfort already. She was right, of course. But he hated to think about it. He couldn’t even really talk about it with her. So he didn’t say anything. “We won’t have time during the afternoon, I don’t think. Now is your only chance for a change. If you don’t pee now, once you do wet your diaper, you might have to be wet for the rest of the day.” He definitely didn’t want that. But he couldn’t stand the idea of “using” his diaper like a baby. And now she would know that he had done it, and even when he had done it. Having her so intimately aware of his private habits was almost as bad as using a diaper for them. This was excruciating. “Can we please just stop talking about it?” he pleaded, his exasperation with her bluntness showing. She grinned, clearly unconcerned with his shyness. “You are embarrassed about normal body processes, aren’t you? That is probably because you aren’t a parent yet, and not a nurse. We’re all about body fluids.” She became more serious. “I’m not really that interested in whether you are embarrassed, you might have noticed. I am entirely focused on keeping us efficient and on schedule. And I know that, if you look at the big picture, of course you do, too. “So swallow your pride. Do what’s best for the patients and staff. Now, do you need a change?” He swallowed and looked down. He said quietly, “I have to go, but I haven’t yet.” She folded her arms. “Well, we haven’t got much time. If you’re going to pee, go ahead.” He glanced up, alarmed. “I don’t think I can do it with you here.” He looked around. “Can you…give me some privacy?” Julie shook her head grimly. “I don’t think so, champ. We don’t have time. If you want a dry diaper for the afternoon, you have to go right now.” He shook his head. This was too much. He couldn’t pee right now, in front of her. “Oh, come on,” she said. “I can’t even see you peeing. That is ridiculous.” He stood in front of her, staring at a spot on the floor. The silence stretched on. “Are you peeing? Are you done?” she prompted, eyeing the clock. He shook his head, miserably. His bladder hurt by now, but she was staring at him. He pretended he was somewhere else, that she wasn’t there. It felt so strange to try to pee while wearing clothes. Every instinct told him to hold it in, but he knew he had to overcome it. He shut his eyes completely, and tried to pretend he was in front of a toilet with his fly open. He pretended he was alone in the bathroom. Eventually he felt a little wetness come out, and fought the considerable urge to stop it. More came and more came. He felt warmth spread between his legs, and felt the diaper get noticeably heavier. He kept going, eventually feeling spent and comfortable. Except for the heavy wet diaper between his legs. That, at last, was enough to make him willing to have it changed. Time to act. He opened his eyes. “Okay, I—“ He was alone in the workroom. He was relieved and touched that Julie gave him some space. It seemed a little unlike her, but he wasn’t going to be picky. But where was she? He waddled–and was aware that he waddled now that his diaper was wet–over to the door of the workroom and peeked outside, not willing to show himself in public. He had to wait a moment, but then he spotted her—bringing a patient to the nearby exam room! He pulled himself back into the room. He hated to have to wait for her, but he knew she would be angry if he tried to take care of himself on his own. He’d just need to wait for her. He played on his phone for a few minutes. Eventually she hurried in, but instead of catering to him, she went straight to her computer and started the notes for the patient’s appointment. She barely seemed to acknowledge him. He waited for a moment for her to attend to him, but it seemed like he had completely forgotten about him. He was confused, but also quite uncomfortable. “Um, Julie, I hate to bother you, but would you have time now to, um, well…” he trailed off, unwilling to say the actual words if he didn’t have to. She turned in her chair to face him standing across the room, his legs held slightly apart for comfort sake. “Time to do what?” He reddened. “You know, to, um, change the, um…” “Your what?” she asked, staring pleasantly up at him. He stared dumbly at her. Finally he realized she wanted him to say it. “The, um…diaper.” “Change your diaper? No, sorry. We ran out of time. You took too long. We’ll have to take care of it later if we have a break.” She turned her back to him again. He couldn’t quite believe she had said that. She couldn’t be serious. He started to panic a little. “I really need some help here. Did I do something to upset you?” She turned back and frowned slightly, wrinkling her brow. “Why, of course not. But this is not an emergency. It is not even really an “urgency”. You are not in wet pants. You are wearing a diaper, which by definition is optionally changeable. We’ll change it when we have a minute and patients are not waiting. You prefer being dry? Of course you do. Well, keep up with patients and we’ll get to you, okay?” She smiled at him encouragingly. He didn’t like being patronized. “But—but—what if it…leaks? It is REALLY wet!” His eyes pleaded with her. She dragged him backward and closed the door briefly. “Oh, for Pete’s sake. Let’s see.” She cupped her hand in front of her and reached toward him. Before he knew what was happening, she had her hand against his crotch. It was strange not being able to feel it. But he felt the weight of the wet diaper lift and fall once, twice, three times. She pulled her hand away, then reached for his face. She spoke more quietly, sounding reassuring. “Your diaper is wet, but you won’t leak. It could even take some more, if you’ve got it.” She turned around and opened the door. “Stop worrying. You’ll be fine. Remember, keep up!” He was not happy. He felt humiliated and betrayed by her, not to mention uncomfortable. She had told him to pee, and then he did, and she refused to change him! He almost felt like crying. He couldn’t believe she expected him to work like this. This was far worse than spending some extra time in the bathroom, and he would never be able to get used to this feeling, of that he was sure. It sagged to a ridiculous depth between his legs, rubbing against his mid-thighs. It was warm near his body, but cooler down there, which was very distracting, and any air that snuck inside the diaper made him aware of the wetness. He shuffled into his first appointment of the afternoon shyly, sure his patient was as aware of his soggy diaper as he was. He sat down on his stool, and felt the wetness anew, cool against him. He smelled a wave of powdery urine waft up, and was ready to be embarrassed as the patient asked what was going on. He worried about wetness leaking onto his pants as he stood again. But the visit passed without any apparent observations by the patient that anything was wrong. It was–except for his preoccupation–a normal visit. He was a little less concerned after that, and started to learn to ignore the strangeness of the situation, focusing instead on his work. His diaper never really got warm, as it pressed against him only when he sat, and sagged down and cooled when standing. But he became less paranoid and stressed. After an hour, Julie caught him coming out of a room, and whispered, “Ok, quick—we have a minute now.” He almost didn’t realize what she was saying, but then he nodded and followed at as close to a trot as he could manage with a soggy diaper between his legs. He entered the work room, and Julie closed the door behind him. She was all business. “Ok, pants down, hop up,” she said briskly, patting the exam table, where a blue pad was already laid out. This time, he didn’t hesitate. He hurried to unbuckle his belt and unbutton his slacks, dropping them to the floor. He yanked down his boxers to reveal a drooping diaper. He saw that the yellow line down the front was now blue. He turned and eased himself up onto the table. “Okay, swing around and lie down,” she instructed. She held a dry diaper in her hand, placing it next to a box of baby wipes and the bottle of baby powder she had laid out on the nearby shelf. He did so quickly. He didn’t want to slow her down and miss his chance for a dry diaper. Once he was lying down, he felt her hands at the tapes on the front of the diaper and felt a rush of cool air on his privates. He suddenly felt a cold wet pressure and looked down to see her vigorously wiping him down. She pressed the wipe across his pubic hair, then used the wipe to grab his penis, quickly stroking it down to the tip and releasing it efficiently. He felt her touch his testicles, stretching the skin as she wiped these as well. She turned the wipe over and fed it along his inner thighs and the creases there, then said, “Up.” He only had to think for a second before realizing what she wanted him to do. He reached down to grab his knees and help pull his legs and hips up, spreading his knees as widely as he could. Again he felt silly exposing himself to her like this, but she wasn’t snickering or laughing. Instead, he felt the wet diaper being pulled from under him. He felt another wipe move quickly across his buttocks, and then into his crack, moving up toward his anus. She brushed over it firmly, and he thought she paused slightly here, giving it a little extra pressure before moving up to the back of his scrotum. Suddenly a nice soft dry cushion pushed against his bottom, and a cool sensation as she sprinkled some new powder on it. She directed him, “Down.” He lowered himself obediently, and felt the new diaper under him. She sprinkled a little more powder in the front, then grasped the diaper and pulled it up through his legs, having to reach around his pants, which tethered his legs together. She stretched it tightly over his penis, taping it down. “All done! Go ahead and swing around and get up. You can pull your pants up. We’ll have another patient ready for you in just a moment.” She popped open the door and strode out, brushing a little baby powder off her hands as she went. He glanced down and realized the whole thing had barely taken a single minute. And he felt…good. Dry, cozy, comfortable. He smiled for the first time that day, grateful to Julie for her kindness. “Thanks!” he called after her and was rewarded with a little smile as she turned toward the waiting room to call a patient back. The rest of the afternoon passed pleasantly. He kept up easily, and was rewarded with a very happy nurse. She smiled at him frequently, and seemed to anticipate his every nursing need. They were quite efficient, and finished seeing patients on time for the first time he could remember. All that remained was the rest of the shared task list, which he liked to clean up as much as possible by the end of the day. He worked at his computer, finishing up tasks and calling patients with results. Near the end, Julie came and stood next to him. He turned and looked up at her. She raised her eyebrows. “Anything else for me?” “No, I think we’re good. You can get out of here if you want.” “Great! Then let’s get you cleaned up, shall we?” She locked the door and walked to the cabinet with the blue pads. He had actually forgotten for a moment that he was still wearing a diaper. He looked down self-consciously. “Well, I’m sure I can take care of it myself at this point.” He saw her purse her lips slightly. “I mean, it’s just taking off the diaper, right? Not much chance I can screw that up.” “Oh, I think it is part of my responsibility to return you to your off-work state. I’ll feel better knowing you are yourself again, you know? Pants down, hop up!” She smiled expectantly. He felt himself redden again. This seemed unnecessary, but she had been nice before, and he liked the camaraderie they had developed. He didn’t want to disappoint her, and at the end of the day his fatigue made it easier not to argue. He slowly rose and walked over to her. He lowered his pants and boxers and laid back on the table. She tapped the insides of his knees and he let them fall apart self-consciously. She untaped him and pulled back the diaper. “You’re dry,” she commented, sounding a little surprised. “Well, I didn’t have to go,” he lied, feeling the pressure in his bladder. The truth was that he still didn’t want to appear as though he liked the idea, no matter the “convenience,” and thought he could hold out. “Hmm,” she said doubtfully. “I saw how much you drank at lunch, so I’m not sure I believe you. And we’re not going to save the diaper for reuse anyway, so there’s no point in your bladder being uncomfortable.” She was wiping his penis and testicles, a little more slowly than earlier, but he was grateful to observe that she didn’t seem to be lingering. She was all business, thank goodness. And so far, he’d been able to avoid an erection. He wasn’t sure he could handle that embarrassment. “Up,” she directed, and he obeyed. He felt the cool wetness spread across his buttocks, then invade the cleft between them. As before, he felt it hesitate and poke a little at his anus. He flinched slightly, but then realized she had moved on. But then he felt a sharp pulling from somewhere back behind his testicles. “You know, this has to go,” she mused, staring between his legs. “What?” he asked, somewhat alarmed and confused. “All of this messy hair. It is making it harder to clean. I’d like you to shave it tonight. Everything from here,” and here she indicated his testicles, “on back, should be completely nice and smooth.” He felt the diaper pulled out, and was instructed, “Down.” There was no dry diaper underneath this time when he set his feet back down, knees spread wide, and no powdery smell. She gestured at his pubic hair. “I won’t insist on shaving all of that,” she said, wrapping up the wipes inside the used diaper, “although my personal preference is to keep it much shorter and more neatly trimmed, if you keep it at all. But the front hair is less important for keeping you clean. The hair behind your penis, though, shouldn’t be there tomorrow.” She helped him sit up and looked him directly in the eye, as he had not yet acknowledged her remarks. “Okay? Can I get a ‘Yes, ma’am’ please?” He felt confused. This was her only criticism of his genital area. He hadn’t ever thought about it. It hurt to hear any criticism, of course, and he felt himself wanting to please her. She was so nice when she was happy. But it was weird and embarrassing to talk about. He wasn’t sure she should care, but he obviously wasn’t experienced at changing diapers. “Um, yes, ma’am,” he said distractedly. “Have you ever shaved down there? Do you have a real razor?” “No,” he said. “I have an electric razor.” She threw away the diaper and blue pad. “Well, go out and buy a nice manual razor. They’re not expensive, and I’ll want you to keep yourself nice and smooth down there. It’s your choice, but I think you’ll find the ones marketed to women to be better for this area. “You could use soap, or shaving cream, but you’ll probably want to do your shaving in the shower or the bathtub. You’ll need to stretch the skin, and until you have practiced, go slowly.” She was packing up her laptop and locking it in the cabinet. “Did you hear what I said before? Shall I repeat it? I’d like you to shave the back of your penis, your entire scrotum, and all the hair around your bottom. If you want to keep the hair in front, I guess that’s okay, but cut it nice and short, okay?” He was staring at the diaper cabinet, unable to believe he was having this conversation and not really wanting to engage. She stood watching him, apparently aware of his discomfort, smiling slightly. She turned up the heat. “What do you think? Crop the front short? Or just shave it completely off and be smooth all over?” He was shaken out of his stupor by the realization that she actually expected an answer. “Can…we just not talk about this now? It’s…I’m…I just want to finish my work. May I get dressed?” She smiled. “Of course. I didn’t mean to slow you down. But take care of that hair problem somehow tonight, okay? Say, ‘Yes, ma’am.’” “Yes, ma’am,” he mumbled, standing up and pulling up his boxers and khakis. She picked up her purse and came over and touched him on his arm. “You were a good boy today. Thanks for helping me to get our work done on time so I can see my family. Your cooperation means a lot to me. I hope it wasn’t too embarrassing for you.” It was, but he liked her smile. He didn’t want to argue with her. It was nice to think of today’s weirdness as something he was doing as a favor to her. “No, no, of course. Happy to help out.” “I’ll see you bright and early tomorrow morning, maybe a moment earlier than usual to get you ready, okay?” she asked. “And remember, nice and smooth. Good night!” “Good night,” he said, happy to be done with the conversation. She was exasperatingly direct about things! The embarrassment had taken a toll on him today. He started packing up his things. She walked away, jingling her car keys, very satisfied with her progress today. She had wanted to go further, faster, of course. She had so many ideas and plans, but she had to pace herself, allow him to fall deeper, deeply enough that he wouldn’t be able to get out. But she didn’t want him to be an unwilling victim. Instead, for now, she enjoyed the game of getting him to agree to do more and more embarrassing things, all because she said to do it. It was a little fun seeing his ambivalence and confusion about wanting to please her and yet feeling such obvious and intense humiliation. Being in charge always satisfied her, and she was not surprised to feel just how much sexual pleasure she felt today bossing her doctor around. It would make what she was planning a lot more fun. She had a long list of activities in her imagination, and after today, she was optimistic that she might get to try many of them. Yes, it had been a great day, and she couldn’t wait for tomorrow. She smiled. Chapter 3 He climbed into the hot shower with some apprehension. While he welcomed the relaxing warmth, he did not feel up to the task at hand. He let the water wash over him, thinking about the day he had just put behind him. He had let Julie have her way, rather than confront her at any point along the way. He knew that was stupid. Was he crazy to play along with her? She seemed so capable and smart, and funny, and nice, but the things she was asking him to do were just insane. He had sacrificed a lot to be a doctor, but she was asking him to give up his dignity, and he was finding it very hard to do. While her rationale seemed noble–he would do almost anything for his patients–at no time during his training had anyone ever suggested he avoid the bathroom in favor of a diaper. He hadn’t really ever heard of that before, but she seemed to make it sound relatively normal. Maybe he really had simply been sheltered. Astronauts? Race car drivers? Maybe he should google it to see. He had stopped at a pharmacy on the way home and found a women’s razor and some shaving cream. Thank goodness, no one looked at him strangely. Maybe they assumed he had a wife? He actually didn’t have a problem with shaving himself down there. He knew from his exams of young people that it was common these days, and even expected. But he had never felt comfortable about how exactly to do it. How much hair should he leave? He’d worried that shaving make him seem like he was trying too hard. He hadn’t known up until now. He was happy to have a little guidance from someone, anyone, though it would have been more natural coming from a lover. Instead, it was coming from his employee. And he was fairly sure that very few men shaved themselves for “ease in cleaning” the way he was instructed to. But if she was going to be looking at him there, he didn’t want her to be judging him every time she pulled down his diaper. And if it could make her smile—he loved her smile. He imagined her smiling at him tomorrow when she saw that he had obeyed her, and it made him feel warm inside. As he washed himself, he wondered just how many times she would be actually be seeing him down there. While she hadn’t been specific, she did agree to discuss it tomorrow. What could he say to get her to drop this whole diaper thing? Certainly she had to agree that he had played along, and that they made a good team. His willingness to share her goals could not be doubted, right? They tried it her way, it would be only fair to give him the benefit of the doubt. But nothing that had happened over the last 24 hours had seemed logical or predictable to him. He pointed the water away from his body and sprayed out a tiny bit of shaving lotion. He had trimmed his pubic hair before his shower, so he just needed to shave the hard to reach places. He had never tried this before, and just wanted to be very careful. He remembered what Julie had said, and stretched out his scrotum to make it easier. How did she know about that? He wondered. He supposed that some couples were intimate in different ways, but he had never shaved (or been shaved by) a partner. Well, he hadn’t really had more than a brief partner or two. Medical school and residency weren’t really conducive to a busy social life. He was book smart, but didn’t know much about relationships. Julie had a child, so her past sexual history might be much different. And maybe much more interesting. He slowly worked his way back, spreading his legs awkwardly and craning his neck to see. This might be easier in a bathtub, but he didn’t have one. Still, he was careful, as Julie advised, and managed to finish without cutting himself. He rinsed off and turned off the water. He dried himself and checked himself out in his bathroom mirror. Interesting. He didn’t mind the new look. He ran his fingers over the newly-hairless parts of his body. That felt so foreign, but nice. He could get ready for bed in a few minutes, but he decided to explore the new feel in a little more depth first. It was kind of erotic, wasn’t it, to have shaved himself because a woman asked him to? It felt so nice. He couldn’t help thinking about Julie as he made himself feel very, very good. Chapter 4 The next morning, he made it to work early. This was part of the plan he had come up with overnight to make his day easier. If he was on top of his task list, he might be more likely to persuade Julie to use the bathroom. He had made a point to pick out underwear that didn’t have holes in them: it was weird to have to consider Julie seeing his underpants, but he wanted to make as good an impression as possible. He didn’t have anything to drink for breakfast, and he wasn’t planning to drink anything all morning. The less he needed to pee, the less he needed to be changed. However, he was considering the likelihood that he would need to pee early during lunch so that he could start the afternoon with an empty bladder and a dry diaper. Most of all, he was going to make sure he spent some time discussing alternative arrangements with Julie for the future. Being shy was no excuse not to be assertive about his preferences. He was polishing off the few accumulated tasks from the overnight when Julie walked in. “Good morning!” she chirped happily. “Ready for the day?” “Yep, I guess so,” he replied, trying to sound as cheerful as she was. But his stress at having to play her game was probably showing through his façade. “I’m assuming you mean, ‘yes, ma’am,’” she noted quietly, putting down her purse, her smile fading a little. “Isn’t that right?” He swallowed. If he wanted something from her, it was a bad idea to get off on the wrong foot from the beginning. Why this little bit of protocol was important to her nagged at him a little bit, but he couldn’t dwell on it without potentially annoying her further. “Yes, ma’am. Sorry about that.” She looked back at him, the smile retaking her face. “I thought so. No harm done.” She looked at the clock. “I think we just have time to get you changed before seeing patients. Okay?” He was polite this time. “Yes, ma’am.” She smiled at him as she shut and locked the door. “Ooh, I love it when I can hear your manners! Okay, pants down. Hop up.” As he stood and began fumbling with his pants, she strode over to the cabinet and retrieved a diaper and blue pad. “You had some homework last night. How’d you do?” He waited, pants around his ankles, for her to put the blue pad down. “Okay, I guess.” He sat on the pad and when she raised her eyebrows expectantly, swung around and lay down. He had been satisfied with the job he’d done and thought she would be pleased, but, when it came right down to it now, found himself just as hesitant to expose himself to her as he had been yesterday. She tapped the inside of his knees. “Come on, now. You know better than that,” she chided, apparently not thinking his legs were spread widely enough. He leaned them out, but they wouldn’t go further. “But—I—“ he stammered, unable to move them. She appraised the situation, then nodded. “Ah,” she said, grasping his pants and yanking them down further to his ankles. “You didn’t have your pants down far enough.” With his pants bunched up down at his shoes, he was able to let his legs fall apart completely, giving her the access she wanted to his diaper area. She moved up so that she stood next to him to get a closer look. “Oh,” she said with an impressed look. “You did well. Doesn’t that look nice?” Her hand reached out to his closely trimmed pubic hair, touching it and even caressing it gently. She traced the outline of it. He was initially shocked at the contact. She hadn’t actually touched him before this, except with a baby wipe in her hand. Lying back, he could see her standing above him, arm outstretched, but couldn’t see her hand, which just seemed to be dancing across his pubic area. Suddenly he felt her fingers on his penis, gently stroking that! They moved slowly from the base down to—but not onto—the tip. He gasped, and saw her smile appreciatively. He felt her lift his penis up and run her finger down the underside from the sensitive area down to the base again. He knew it would happen even before he felt it. His penis started to stiffen. She seemed not to notice at first, holding it up with one hand and now moving her other hand to caress his smooth testicles. Wow, he thought. That feels incredible. The lack of any other contact on his body and the gentle minimalist touch on his genitalia made this feel even more exquisite. Her fingers continued their exploration down and back behind his scrotum, and he stopped being aware of anything around him. He missed it when she said, “Up, please,” to him. He did notice when she took her hands away and gave him a light smack on the buttocks. “Excuse me, did we forget since yesterday? Do you remember what ‘up’ means?” His eyes snapped open at the gentle smack to his bottom. He quickly lifted his hips and grabbed his knees, pulling them towards his head and as far apart as possible. He was rewarded with a “That’s it, ooh, smooth.” She cooed as her hand found him again, touching his scrotum, and making its way toward his anus. He stopped breathing as she traced a little circle around it slowly, then continued up his cleft toward his back. Suddenly he felt both hands across his buttocks, again caressing and circling the area. “Now, that is MUCH better than yesterday. There are a few little hairs you might have missed, but you did great for a first try.” He noticed her speaking to him in a tone that would have been more appropriate for a child than an adult, but didn’t mind. He just wanted her touching him again. But then he felt the familiar soft thick presence of the diaper under him. “Down,” she said. Oh, crap. He thought. He was hard as a rock, and his folded legs were concealing it. He hesitated obeying her, wondering how he could avoid showing himself to her in this state. Maybe he could delay for a moment? If he put his legs down now, there would be no way she could miss— “Ow!” he yelled, as he felt a sharp smack–much harder this time–on his bottom. He involuntarily released his knees in defense, and his legs straightened to protect himself. “When I ask you to do something, I expect you to listen. That is the second time you…” She trailed off when she saw his stiff penis bobbing up and down. He tried to cover himself with his hands, pulling his knees together as well. To his horror, he saw her break into a wide smile. “Now that makes my day. I was starting to think you didn’t like me. It’s quite a compliment, you know?” He remained huddled, covering himself as best he could. She walked over to the refrigerator that held the vaccines, momentarily turning her back to him. “I know it has a mind of its own. I’m familiar with the bodies of boys. There’s no reason to be embarrassed.” She pulled something out and turned back to him. “However, it does present a little bit of a problem for your diaper, of course. We need a good seal, and your peepee can’t be pointed up like that, or we’ll get some awkward leakage later. So we need some way to get rid of that little stiffy.” She held out one hand and touched his knees, still clenched together desperately. “These knees are really going to get you in trouble with me, I can tell. I don’t want to have to tell you again to spread them wide open,” she told him, the smile gone. “NOW.” Slowly, he opened his knees but kept his hands inefficiently cupped around his engorged penis. “That’s better,” she said. “Now, your hands need to find a better place to be. How about behind your head?” He hesitated. This was humiliating. She slapped his hands sharply. “We don’t have time for this,” she said. “If you want to have time for me to change you AT ALL today, let’s get going.” He reluctantly released his penis and put his hands behind his head. There was a trace of a smirk on her face which she apparently was trying to hide. He closed his eyes in shame. But they flew open wide again when he felt something shockingly cold over his groin. Gasping, he looked down, seeing her holding an ice pack to his penis. It was large, and she had wrapped it around it, allowing it to cover his testicles and inner thighs as well. “Holy shit!” he sputtered. “That’s too much!” His hands became unclasped from behind his head, but he stopped them from interfering, sensing that was too much. He glanced at her face, and caught a very stern look he had only seen on his mother’s face. “Hands,” was all she said, her voice as cold as the ice pack. Slowly, he put them back. Her face relaxed a little, but she kept eye contact, forcing him to drop his eyes and finally close them in defeat. His groin was starting to feel numb now. He pretended he was somewhere else. “I don’t like cursing,” she told him sternly. Then, more to herself, “If it becomes a problem, maybe we’ll have to see how you like a little mouth-soaping.” His eyes widened as her words brought him back to reality. He felt like she had to be kidding, but her expression was totally serious. And he was learning to take her seriously. How had he gotten himself into this nightmare? He closed his eyes again. After another minute, he heard the ice rattle and looked down to see that the pack was gone. She was turning back to the refrigerator. He was numb enough that he couldn’t have felt it. He lifted his head and noticed that his penis was limp again, pale white, and shrunken as if he were a little boy. “That will make things easier,” she commented. She turned back, grabbed a towel, and brusquely patted him dry, the condensation having dampened the skin. She sprinkled some baby powder over him and pulled the diaper up tightly, taping him securely, then patted him over his penis, through the diaper. “Ok, mission accomplished, despite the detour. You can get dressed.” He stood and rapidly pulled his pants up. She cleared her throat. “Did you have something you wanted to say to me?” She was suddenly a stickler for manners, apparently. “Thank you.” She raised her eyebrows. “…Ma’am,” he added quickly. This seemed to satisfy her, and she turned to unlock the door. “Oh!” she exclaimed. “I almost forgot.” She went to her purse, pulling out a tall cup with a lid and a hard straw. He saw that it was colored baby blue and had teddy bears on it. “I saw that you were a little dehydrated yesterday.” His confusion must have registered on his face. She explained, “The pee in your diaper was too dark yellow. As you know, it ought to be nearly clear. It is easy to fall behind on your hydration during a busy day, and I don’t want our…arrangement,” and here she looked at his padded diaper area, “to discourage hydration. That could influence your health negatively, after all.” She smiled. He thought it seemed a little mischievous. “So I vow to help you remember to drink throughout the day.” He stared at the cup, which appeared to be full. “It’s water. Sorry if the cup looks a little young for your age, but it’s all I had at home. How about if we say that you should have this drunk by 10am? We can do another by the time you start in the afternoon, and a third by 3pm. That should keep your kidneys working. We’re a team! And I’ll keep you healthy.” His heart sank. He didn’t want to refuse her. She seemed to have a temper today. But she was going to force him to wet his diaper frequently today. “Of course, if your urine is still too dark, we can adjust how often you have to empty it.” The door was open now, and she patted his puffy behind on her way out to get the first patient. “Time for work!” Chapter 5 It was hard for him to focus on anything other than the memory of her touch on his newly shaven body. He couldn’t stop thinking about her smile at his erection, and her gentle, sensitive fingers. Of course, that made him hard all over again, which was extremely awkward. Every time he passed Julie or talked to her in the workroom, she flashed a little smile that seemed designed to set him off again. It was like she knew just what she was doing to him. It was not overtly flirtatious, on the surface being completely professional, but it was fairly close to the line. He could barely feel pressure through his diaper, but that didn’t keep him from trying to put some surreptitious pressure on himself when he could. Ordinarily, in this situation, he might excuse himself and head to the bathroom for just a few minutes to “take care of” the situation, but that was now apparently off the table. He felt frustrated, and comforted himself thinking about how he would be able to make himself more comfortable after work. But that seemed like a long way off. At 9:30, Julie caught him in between rooms, teddy bear cup in hand. She didn’t say anything, but held it out to him expectantly. It was still full. He reluctantly accepted it and sipped a little, handing it back with a very small smile. “Thanks,” he said halfheartedly. She didn’t accept it back. “Nice try,” she said, smirking. “Drink up!” He set his laptop down, and tried not to glare at her. He stood in the hall, sucking water through the straw, until he sucked air. At this point, she beamed, whispering, “Good boy! I’ll see you later,” looking at his diaper meaningfully. He shook his head and went in with his next patient. Within an hour, his bladder was begging for relief. He was able to hold off until 11, but decided to pee a little into his diaper to make himself comfortable enough to finish the morning. He walked nonchalantly into the work room, pretending to look at a chart. He had just about relaxed enough to start peeing when Julie entered. Seeing him there, she strode over and cupped his crotch. “Nothing yet, huh? Is that why you’re back here? Did you duck in here to pee in your diaper?” He reddened. He had hoped for some privacy. “I do have to go, but…I can wait if you need something.” She smiled a little. “Oh, no, I don’t need anything.” She stood silently, a little knowing smile playing across her face. He glanced around, nervously. “Is there a reason you like to be here for this? It’s a little weird. Not to mention that it makes it harder to go…” She folded her arms. “I’m not sure why it should bother you. It is a natural bodily process, we’re both medical professionals. Also, one of the principal benefits of your diaper is that you can go right in public. Seems like most people would LOVE that feature. So why not take advantage of that?” He still looked dubious, but she seemed like a lawyer who had wrapped up a case. He had always been shy about the bathroom; he even hesitated using urinals in a crowded men’s room. Wouldn’t most people feel awkward in this situation? Didn’t he have a right to pee in private? “I really like to be alone sometimes. Would you mind waiting for me outside?” She studied him. “Yes, I mind. You gave up the right to privacy. You proved you can’t be trusted in the potty by yourself. You’ve lost your potty privileges. So, I don’t feel any need to honor your dignity by having to inconvenience myself so you can be alone.” She paused. “And…I have to admit that I enjoy your embarrassment a little bit. It seems so silly to be hung up about peeing in front of me, so I feel like we should get you past that. Why not today?” Her seemingly rational and unsympathetic approach exasperated him, as did her willingness to talk about things that should be private. If there was anything that might be worse than peeing in front of her, it would be talking about his bathroom functions. She seemed to recognize this, and even enjoy it. But the joy she was taking seemed friendly rather than malicious. She really did seem interested in helping him, even as she forced him to do things that were embarrassing. So he closed his eyes as he had done before and concentrated on relieving himself, pretending he was alone. He was able, after a moment, to relax enough to pee, and he drained some of his bladder. He stopped himself before he was done, however, because he didn’t want to be so wet that he might leak. He opened his eyes, expecting that she might have left again. But this time she was still standing in front of him, arms folded, eyebrows raised, with eyes that shifted between his face and his diaper. When she saw his eyes open, she again stepped forward and felt the full warm diaper. She lifted and squeezed gently, apparently gauging the product of his performance. Then she smiled, and patted him on the bottom. “Good work! That wasn’t so hard, was it? We’ll take care of that in a little while. You’re fine for a bit. Better get back to work for now.” And she turned on her heel and left before he had the chance to argue. He stared after her blankly. She didn’t seem upset, just unmotivated to change his diaper. There was a patient waiting. Maybe she wanted to be caught up first. He tried to ignore the full warm bulk between his legs, and focus on his work. He moved slowly, sat carefully, and felt the memorable squishing sensation. He was still sure he couldn’t possibly get used to that. But he had a little more confidence that he could work with it. He made sure he was efficient, and after 2 more appointments, he found Julie waiting in the hall for him. She didn’t say anything, just turned and walked down the short hall toward the workroom. He waddled after her quickly, aware of his rustling, feeling the wet diaper shift with each step. She locked the door after him, and he heard the familiar, “Pants down, hop up!” He didn’t hesitate. She was quick this time, which was good. This time, even without her fingers actively touching him directly, except with the wipe, he felt himself start to stiffen. The last encounter had sexualized the whole thing for him, and his waning embarrassment unfortunately left him more able to focus on the sensations and situation. She seemed to realize the possibility, and efficiently got a dry diaper taped on him quickly. He gratefully pulled his pants up, noting that less than a minute had elapsed. She again patted his bottom as she sent him back to work. He did notice that his teddy bear cup appeared to be full again, but she wasn’t insisting on draining it yet, so he didn’t ask. But by the time his morning was over, she greeted him with it, sending him on the way to lunch with a full cup of water. He actually didn’t mind, because he was planning on trying to wet his diaper early enough that she would change it before the afternoon started. If he had to play this game, he was going to play it smart. He drained the cup at the beginning of the meal, then managed to wet himself surreptitiously while standing in the lunchroom listening to others talk. Wetting himself right in front of other people made him nervous—could they tell? It felt so visible, but no one around him seemed to notice or care. The doctors ate together, often pestered by pharmaceutical representatives, while the nurses ate with the rest of the staff in another, larger room. But everyone retrieved their lunch together and threw their trash out in the same place, and he wasn’t surprised, as he squeezed the last few drops into his diaper, to see Julie watching him out of the corner of his eye. How did she always know? “New cup today?” One of his colleagues pointed at the teddy bear design as they sat down to eat. “Cute.” He blushed. “It’s Julie’s, but she’s letting me borrow it.” His colleague nodded. “Whatever works, I guess. You guys finished a little early today. Light schedule?” He shook his head. “Well, not really. Maybe easier patients?” But he suspected that they had just been particularly efficient that morning. Teamwork could really help the day fly by. Chapter 6 He sloshed back to the workroom to work on his task list on the computer, knowing that he’d be more likely to be changed promptly if there was not a backlog of work. He whittled it down nicely over the next 15 minutes, so that when Julie walked through the door, he only had a call to return to someone who wasn’t home. She walked up behind him and patted him on the shoulder. “Look who’s been busy!” she said, impressed. “Amazing what you can do when you put your mind to it.” He turned his head to meet her gaze. She winked knowingly. “Looks like you have a minute to get more comfortable. Interested?” He nodded. “Yes, please. I’m—“ He stopped self-consciously. “Damp? Uncomfortable? Soaked?” she prodded, nodding. “Why don’t we take care of that?” She went to lock the door. He stood up and undid his belt. She smiled at how far he’d come. Had it really only been yesterday that she had had to threaten him to pull his pants down? She retrieved a dry diaper. She’d left a blue pad, the wipes, and the baby powder at what had become their changing table. It wasn’t that she wanted others to know about the situation, but she also wasn’t opposed to the idea. Sooner or later, the staff would figure out that he was wearing diapers. She hadn’t yet figured out how they would explain that, but assumed it would be a urological explanation, like maybe he had bladder or prostate issues. Eventually, having him outed would make things easier. But he wasn’t sure his ego could take it yet. Slow and steady wins the race. This race was definitely on, and it looked like she was winning. He had his pants down and was up on the table, lying back, legs stretched widely apart. She untaped his diaper and pulled it down, breathing in the familiar mix of urine and powder that she liked so much. The diaper was indeed soaked, and this also made her happy. He had settled in nicely to following her rules, which certainly boded well for the future. It had been nothing more than pure luck, really, that they had been paired upon her hiring, but there was nothing coincidental about where they were today. She had immediately recognized his submissive nature in the way he dropped his eyes when they talked. He was socially a little shy in an appealing way. She had gently extended some work-appropriate flirtation, and his reaction to these very bland comments had confirmed both his social inexperience and receptiveness to her leadership. He might be smart and educated, but that didn’t mean he knew his way around dating or sex. It hadn’t taken long for her to start daydreaming about him. Julie was in her late twenties, old enough to have a failed marriage but young enough to retain a healthy interest in having another. Her two young children took a lot of energy, and she could see the advantage of having a man in her life. But this time, it would have to be on her terms. And she had decided firmly on her terms at about the same time she had kicked her ex-husband out of her house and life. She had taken two other jobs since her kids were born, one at a different doctor’s office. There were several young doctors, and she realized she shared plenty in common with these men, who were generally smart and professional. Wouldn’t it be nice if she could find someone she could build a relationship with, the way she wanted it? When she couldn’t get the hours she needed to pay her rent, she first worked at a nursing home, and still had friends there. She generally didn’t like the hours, so she had switched back to an outpatient clinic. She would sometimes cover her friends’ shifts for extra money, however. This job was definitely the best she had found. She had lucked into finding a gentle, smart, and apparently submissive young doctor–who might turn out to be a good partner. It seemed too good to be true, and she knew she might never get another opportunity like this one. So she had planned her ambush, thought through what might motivate him, and had a very careful blueprint for drawing him into her life. The plan made good use of her willingness to embarrass him into cooperating. She would motivate him by appealing to his desire to help her, and to help his patients. She wasn’t afraid to shame or bully him if needed, but so far she hadn’t needed to resort to that. She felt on solid footing now. He’d accepted her as being in charge, and seemed to respond well to her mommy’s-the-boss repertoire. He was unaccustomed to being subservient, but by nature seemed to be a natural. He just needed a crash course in what she expected. She felt strongly that if she handled it right, she could indoctrinate him any way she chose. She just needed the right balance of being stern and kind, and she needed to keep him focused on the benefits of obeying her. She pulled out a baby wipe. Chapter 7 He lay obediently with his feet down and knees far apart, exposing himself to Julie as she shocked his pubic skin with her cold wipe. She brought it over his shortened hair, then grasped his penis and efficiently wrapped her fingers and thumb around it, pulling down toward the tip quickly. She cupped and wiped his scrotum, then quietly commanded, “Up.” He raised his legs as he thought about how absurd this situation was. When he came to work yesterday, he would never have believed any of this. But, odd as it sounded, he was starting to trust Julie. Even though she had been–what was the word? stern?–with him yesterday, everything she had done since then had been reassuring. She kept emphasizing efficiency and service to patients. He believed strongly in these things, and had now seen that the two of them, working together, were a very good team. She had always seemed bright, witty, and compassionate, but the last 24 hours had seen her up her game with their patients. It was almost worth it. But wait. Surely it wasn’t completely worth it. Lying naked in front of her was absolutely humiliating, he thought, as she threw away the first wipe and retrieved another fresh one, which—whew!—was cold again, and drew it across his bottom. He had never been outgoing, and she was the kind of person who befuddled him. She was fearless and direct. She did not seem to care about his embarrassment. But Julie also seemed to be so focused on working together for a cause he could understand, and she wasn’t making fun of his nakedness or of his acquiescence. He had certainly met women who had been unimpressed with his shyness and trouble making small talk. Some early disasters with girls had left him tentative and quiet. He counted himself lucky to have had a serious girlfriend in college and another in medical school. They had been even less outgoing than he, and he’d at least had some sexual experience. But women like Julie, while intriguing to him, scared him and left him uncertain. Now, as she brought the wipe down his crack toward his anus, he wouldn’t know how to confront her about the bizarreness of how she was treating him. He felt her poke his anus, twisting the wipe. This didn’t hurt, but he didn’t understand why she did it. Maybe if he asked nicely, she would tell him, or (preferably) stop. After this came the cool sprinkle of the baby powder, with the scent eventually wafting up. Then the new diaper slipped under his bottom, and the direction, “Down.” The new crinkly bulk pulled up over him, and taped down tightly. “Okay, I’ll go check to see if there is a patient waiting.” He sat up, legs hanging off the side of the table, gathered his courage, and asked his question. “Do you mind if I ask you something?” Her face became guarded for an instant, then cleared. “No, of course not. What is it, sweetie?” “Sweetie” was nice, he thought at first blush. He’d have to consider that, but not now. “Why do you do that poking thing every time?” He couldn’t meet her gaze, embarrassed at having to ask the question at all. While he hated talking about anything diaper- or bathroom-related, he disliked the anal probing (that’s what it was, right?) even more. “What poking?” She seemed genuinely confused, then said, “Oh, you mean when I’m cleaning your bottom?” He nodded, staring at the floor. He heard her say, “I can’t hear your manners.” He looked up, then realized what she meant. “Yes. Yes, ma’am.” She smiled brightly. “That’s much better. I love it when you’re polite.” She came back over and sat next to him. He became aware of the fact that he had failed to pull up his pants. He was sitting next to her with his pants and boxers down around his ankles, a puffy diaper showing under his shirttail. But this didn’t seem like the right time to remedy that. It would have to wait. At the same time, it made their conversation a little awkward, since it seemed to make her the adult. It was hard to plead for his dignity when he was happy sitting in just a diaper. “Well,” she said, knitting her brow, apparently deciding how to address his question. “That is a good question. I wasn’t going to bring up the topic with you so soon, but since you’ve asked, we should discuss it.” She scooted a little away on the table and then turned to face him, best she could. “The first time, yesterday, it was just habit. As you know, I have two little boys, both of whom are still in diapers. The older one is just getting interested in the potty. “I change them the same way I change you, of course, and cleaning their bottoms is just a part of that. An important part of that, wouldn’t you agree? Nobody likes a dirty bottom,” she said, as if it was a religious tenet of some common faith they shared. “So yesterday, I just did to you what I usually do for them, just to make sure their bottoms are clean. “I always wipe them, then check the wipe to see if it is clean. You know, to see if they need more attention down there. You can imagine my surprise yesterday, when I checked the wipe after cleaning your bottom, the wipe came away a little dirty. Apparently you don’t wipe enough after you poop.” He sat, shocked, and didn’t know how to respond. “I didn’t want to hurt your feelings, because I imagine it’s something most people would be sensitive about, so I wasn’t going to bring it up. But…you asked…” Julie was watching his face, monitoring his reaction. “It’s not that big a deal to me, you understand. I’ve generally noticed that men, male patients, tend not to pay as much attention to wiping, so I wasn’t surprised. But you’re welcome to work on that a little bit if you want.” She hopped up. “If you look clean for a few days in a row, maybe I’ll just do spot checks,” she said, smiling, trying unsuccessfully to meet his eyes, which were firmly staring at the floor. “I’m sure you want to be clean, and I want that, too. I’ll quit poking your bottom once you show me you can clean yourself up to my standards. Deal?” His cheeks burned, unable to believe they were talking about this most basic of bathroom habits. His stunned silence was interrupted by her hand on his chin, lifting his face until he couldn’t help but look in her eyes. He expected them to be critical, disgusted, accusatory. But they weren’t. Julie’s eyes were warm and happy. Now that he was looking into them, he couldn’t remember what she had asked. “Deal?” she said again, amused at his distraction. “Yes, ma’am,” he said automatically, unsure at first what he had just agreed to. But she seemed to want him to agree. His answer appeared to make her happy, so that was good. “That’s my good boy,” she said, releasing his chin and his gaze, and looking down at him. He was still sitting in his diaper with his pants around his ankles. “Now you’d better get your pants pulled up so I can open the door. We’ll have a patient waiting, I expect.” He hadn’t realized he was still half undressed. He jumped off the exam table and pulled up his pants, hurriedly trying to zip and buckle himself. She smiled fondly at his hurried efforts, then disappeared to start the afternoon. He didn’t really have time to ponder her comments, as they were a little behind due to his question. By 2:30, however, he really needed to pee, and found a full teddy bear cup at his work station in between patients. He wet himself nearly without thinking as he downed the cup under her approving eyes. When she turned away immediately to busy herself with a different task, he understood that it wasn’t time to be changed yet. But he worked quickly, and was rewarded with Julie waiting outside a patient room 30 minutes later. She gave him a “follow me” look he had learned to recognize, and obediently did so. The familiar, “Pants down, hop up!” led to a quick dry diaper, and he was able to finish the afternoon quickly. Chapter 8 At the end of the day, he had only a few tasks to complete on his computer and a single phone call to make. He was amazed, until he realized that not only had he been more efficient, but Julie had, too. She had handled more of his work than he was used to, and as a result, they didn’t have much to do after the patients had gone. That was a nice change. “Would you like to get out of that wet diaper?” she asked, as she watched him finish a final note documenting a phone call. He was confused. “What?” “Your diaper is wet. It’s okay to get you cleaned up and ready for home.” She had that amused look again. He hadn’t realized that he was sitting in a wet diaper. If he thought back, of course, he could remember wetting it, but maybe he had apparently gotten a little used to the sensation. That didn’t seem like a good sign. It reminded him of something. “Yes, please,” he said, getting up and unbuckling his pants. She had the door locked. “Ooh, I like your manners.” She came over and helped him lie down. He decided that if she was happy, he should ask his question now. “Umm…may I ask another question?” She was untaping his diaper and pulling it down. Her cold wipe came out. “Of course, sweetheart,” she cooed. He felt the cool sensation across his pubic area, then down, down, encircling his penis. And gently wiping, and wiping…was she lingering a little? He felt himself stiffen quickly. Uh-oh. His hands instinctively flew down to cover himself. “Ah—no hands,” she said, lightly smacking his hands. Embarrassed, but mindful of staying on her good side—he’d need that in a moment, he reluctantly moved his arms back up above his head. She could see what was happening, and apparently either didn’t mind, or—more likely, given her reaction—had intended it. What did that mean?! he wondered, growing anxious. It was wrong to let her touch him, at least like this. But he had let her do it before, so correcting her would be awkward, and he surely didn’t want to argue right before negotiating. He gulped and tried to think about anything else other than his growing excitement. That was turning out to be impossible. Her touch felt amazing! “What is it?” she asked, her brow furrowed in mock concern. Her fingers were not leaving his penis. He felt them tickle him a little, running up and down the shaft, touching under the head. No one had ever gently teased him this way, and it felt so nice. He was lost in the sensation. What was she asking him? “Umm…” “Your question. What can I answer for you?” She had him at full erection now, and gently touched him to keep his attention, but not so much as to stimulate him any closer to orgasm. Her touch was tender but almost teasing, not taking him so far that he felt he might lose control. He wondered idly if she might have done this before. He shook his head and tried to focus. “Oh, um, right. Well, yesterday, I asked when we could be done. You know, with the, um,” he looked at the cabinet and down toward her hands. “What?” she said casually, still lightly caressing him. She was obviously acutely aware of the effect she was having on him. She might have been enjoying it, but she kept a poker face. He was both having trouble focusing, but was also embarrassed to say the word. “You know, if I could be done wearing the, um…” “You can say the word diaper, you know,” she said, smiling at him. “That’s what it’s called.” “Ok,” he said, blushing. She stopped touching him for a moment. “Well, go ahead. Say the word.” He didn’t like to admit that he’d let her diaper him. But she was going to force him to say it. “Well, yesterday, you said I had to wear the…diapers…through today.” He again felt her warm hands stroke him softly. “And then we could talk about…ooh!” he gasped, as she applied the wipe to his testicles, gently stroking them now in turn. “About stopping. So…can we?” “Stop?” she asked, drawing her hands away from him abruptly. He almost instinctively raised his hips to find her again. “Do you…want to? Stop?” She looked down at him with a knowing smile. He sighed, aware that she seemed to be referring to her hands on his body. He wasn’t really sure how he felt about that. It definitely crossed a professional boundary, but her attitude seemed more flirtatious than hungry and sexual. In this position, with her hands lightly touching him there, he couldn’t really think rationally. He really wanted her touch to continue. It was so soft and nice. He closed his eyes to concentrate, but this kept him from being able to see her eyes. Her eyes were pretty; he’d never really noticed before. “I couldn’t hear you.” She spoke softly. He cleared his throat. His penis throbbed, bobbing in the air. He could imagine how ridiculous it looked, but it was begging for her touch. “I’d really like to stop wearing a diaper. You know, go back to using the bathroom.” “Mmm…because you don’t like it?” She laughed, not unkindly. “I can see that you really don’t enjoy it.” He opened his eyes briefly to see that she was smiling playfully at him. “You…seem to have become more comfortable with the situation.” She reached out and touched him again gently, making him gasp. “It’s just that I don’t think it’s professional for a doctor to wear a diaper, and—“ She grasped his penis firmly, and interrupted him. “We’ve been through this. No one can tell you are wearing a diaper, and we both decided that it is far more professional to be on-time and efficient than to be spending endless time in the bathroom, inconveniencing patients, staff, and me. This is truly a perfect solution. You’ve kept your patients waiting much less, and they are appreciative. They’ve told me so.” He couldn’t really look into her eyes and concentrate at the same time. She relaxed her grip on his penis, allowing her hand to slip gently up and down its shaft. He started breathing harder, and could hear her cooing, “You are thriving, much more efficient than you were before. And we are an awesome team. Working together, you’ve finished earlier and had more free time, AND kept patients and staff happier.” She stopped stroking, again holding his penis firmly, drawing his gaze to her face. “This arrangement WORKS, and you know it. The way we are working, you could even see an additional 2 or 3 patients per day, which would be pure profit, if I understand how it works. It seems like this”—and here she tugged on the wet diaper still tucked under his bottom—“is a small price to pay to work so well.” He swallowed. She could see his will wavering. Almost there… She moved in for the kill. She started stroking his lower belly, just above his neatly shaved pubic hair. “Do you think we are working well together?” He nodded, staring up at the ceiling. “I can’t hear your manners,” she corrected gently. “Yes, ma’am,” he murmured grudgingly. “Have we finished earlier these two days?” He paused just a moment before admitting, “Yes, ma’am.” She looked down briefly at his stiff penis, bobbing in the air near her hand. “Do you think I have handled this…potentially embarrassing…situation professionally?” He knew that she had had plenty of opportunities to embarrass him, but had not. “Yes, ma’am.” Except for this…wonderful…touching… “So at this point, do you think I have earned your trust?” Here she stopped touching him, and waited for him to look at her. “Yes, ma’am.” He certainly couldn’t argue with that. He didn’t understand her very well, but he had started to trust her. She smiled at him kindly as she took him in her hand again, stroking slowly. “Then my opinion is that we shouldn’t try to fix something that isn’t broken. I know it was jarring to try something new, but it is clearly working really well for us. So this time let’s commit to continuing for another week. It will give us more time to decide that these two days have not been a fluke. But I don’t think it IS a fluke. I’m so confident that I’ll promise to quit this business if you don’t also think our teamwork is flourishing after another week. That sounds reasonable, right?” Numbly, he nodded and saw her eyebrows rise briefly before quickly saying, “Yes, ma’am.” Her voice was mesmerizing, her touch transformative. Truthfully, of course, he might have said anything to make her happy when her hands were so close to him. But there was also a deeper part of him, which he was only vaguely aware of, that felt more content and cared-for over the last few days than he had in a long time. He sighed, embarrassed by this strange arrangement, but not completely unhappy with it. She was nodding and smiling. She patted his penis gently, and said, “Then let’s put that away for now.” She wrinkled her eyebrows, noting that it might be difficult to tuck him in. She wiped his bottom, shook a little more powder on him, then pressed his penis up to his belly and pulled his boxers up over it. “That will have to do for now, I suppose. Those things can be so troublesome,” she murmured to herself, though she was also thinking how easy “those things” made getting what she wanted. “Ok, sit up!” His face flushed, breathing a little heavily, he paused a second, then nodded and sat up. That was an abrupt and unwelcome end to what he had presumed would be a bit more climactic. But Julie was all business again, so while he briefly considered protesting, he suspected it wouldn’t make a difference, and could wind up making him seem pathetic. Instead, he should be professional. He took a deep breath and stood up. He stared down and noticed that his boxers tented out in front of him. She glanced over at him, smiling a bit at his predicament, then went to the sink to wash her hands. He leaned over quickly and pulled up his khakis, working at getting them fastened over his erection. Once he had, he looked more presentable. “Ok, well, thanks for all your work today…as usual. It was…a good day,” he said awkwardly, trying to regain his dignity. He started gathering up his things, putting away his laptop and mouse. She went to her purse. She nodded thoughtfully. “Yes, it was,” she said, glancing up at him. “It certainly was. Thank you for being so considerate to me. I can’t tell you how much it means to be done so early and able to see my little ones.” He walked her out, grateful that he was finally dressed normally and talking to her like he might any other staff member. This felt like a more appropriate work situation, surely, than being diapered or naked in her presence. It was a relief. As they walked the short distance to their cars, which were parked at the far end of the practice’s parking lot, Julie said, “My mother takes care of the kids during the day. But she must also see to my dad as well, so I like to relieve her as soon as I can. After a day with the kids, she’ll be happy to see me so early!” She reached her car and paused for a moment. She suddenly leaned over and pecked him on the cheek. “You’re our hero, you know!” He nodded, surprised. “Well, I’m glad it worked out so well.” He realized he was blushing as he unlocked his car. He was flattered and touched, but didn’t know what else to say. “See you tomorrow?” She smiled. “You bet. Thanks again for being so thoughtful. I think we make a great team! Have a nice evening.” She got into her car, and thought more about how this relationship was going. He seemed more and more receptive to her being in charge. That opened up all sorts of possibilities. Julie liked being in charge. She had been drawn to dominance in her relationships from a young age. Controlling the supposedly stronger gender had always held appeal, and she had enjoyed this challenge while dating during nursing school. She grew used to exercising her bossy skills to get what she wanted–and needed. Oddly to her, one boy even seemed attracted to being humiliated, and she learned she didn’t mind giving him what he wanted. She learned that she had a talent for sensing tentativeness, and her comfort with confrontation seemed to put her in the driver’s seat more often than she would have expected. Her only lapse, ironically, had been her marriage, and it had only reinforced her need to control her relationships. Confused by societal expectations, she had married a man who had projected strength and confidence. She had assumed he was the kind of meat-and-potatoes man that women should marry, and had assumed she could change what she didn’t like. But he was emotionally distant. She was used to being able to lead her partners, either overtly or through more subtle manipulation. But he seemed immune for some reason. He just didn’t care. She had two children in rapid succession, and held out hope that this would draw him into their relationship, or that he would grow up. But he actually became more distant after their second son, and she decided she would rather raise her kids alone than remain married in name only. He was surprised, but later seemed relieved, when she kicked him out of their 2-bedroom apartment without asking for more than the lease in return. She hadn’t seen him since. And while it was jarring to find she had so misjudged that relationship, it taught her a lot about what was right for her. She wouldn’t make that mistake again. If she ever married again, she’d need to be in charge from the beginning. She pulled out her phone. As he got into his own car, he could distantly hear her conversation. “Yes, Mom. I’m on my way. I know! It was a good day! See you soon…” As he drove, he thought about the day. And about Julie. She was lovely and nice. Her hands were strong and confident, but felt very gentle and loving. That was going to be hard to forget. He could feel himself getting hard all over again, and he reached down to adjust himself. She was such an alluring mix of sexy and smart, but her insistence on his wearing a diaper was just weird. Wasn’t it? He thought so, but she could make it sound almost normal. The way she talked to him, it would have felt rude if to have refused. And there was a part of him that wanted to make her happy. Her smile was so pretty, and she seemed to be so happy over the last day or two. It was a little weird, but he was almost willing to do anything to see her smile. He squirmed, ready to be home and attend to himself. He thought he knew whose face he was going to be imagining tonight. Chapter 9 Despite how silly he inevitably felt allowing her to diaper him over the next week, he couldn’t deny that work was more fun. He had never felt more in sync with a nurse. She seemed to anticipate every need he had, both professionally and personally. She knew when a patient would need a test, and often had the details settled by the time he came out of a room. He was amazed at how in tune she had quickly become with his bladder habits. He tried to relieve himself out of her sight during his little “down” moments, but he often would glance around afterward, his diaper feeling newly warm, and would see her watching him pleasantly. Then she would busy herself with her work, making no move to change him until they had a break together. He started to relax and trust her judgment about that. His diaper had not leaked into his pants even once. She seemed to have a knack for timing his diaper changes. It was true that she was also the one setting out his water for him. Some days, he noticed, he was offered water more often than others. As he was zipping up his pants after a change one day, he asked her why. “Are you…still, um, keeping some sort of eye on my…hydration?” She smiled a little as she rolled up and taped the warm wet diaper he had been wearing. “Your wet diapers actually tell me a lot. I still keep a close eye on the color, judging just how wet they are and how yellow they look.” She tossed the diaper into the diaper disposal bin she had recently brought into the office for this purpose, she commented, “I want to keep my doctor healthy, you know.” She fondly patted him on his padded behind. He blushed, thinking about how she knew personal things about him that he had not even been aware of. Should he be creeped out by this invasion of privacy? He didn’t feel that way. He realized he felt a little touched, and even reassured by this gentle supervision. She was looking out for him. It had been quite a while since someone had been on his side, helping him. It felt warm and nice, he thought. As he thought about it, he realized that it felt maternal. Julie had assumed that type of role quite naturally. The nice thing was that she didn’t make him feel inferior or less like a man about surrendering that control. She didn’t make fun of him for wearing a diaper, or letting her clean him. She was just very direct and honest. Once he had adjusted to it, he could almost imagine it was normal. It was kind of nice sharing his day so intimately with someone, and not having to worry about mundane things like keeping hydrated or clean. She was a blessing. Like a mother, however, she did occasionally nag him. Nothing he didn’t deserve, though, he admitted to himself. There had been days he hadn’t shaved himself, and of course she noticed. She spent more time looking at his private area than he did, after all. “What is this?” she might ask as she brushed his stubble with a cocked eyebrow. “This isn’t the clean-shaven boy I know,” or “I like you so much better when you’re smooth,” or “Somebody hasn’t been doing his homework.” She was gentle, but firm. She was nice, but insistent. He knew where he stood, and accepted that shaving was important to her. He found himself wanting to feel nice under her hands. He liked the brief smile she had when she touched his smooth, shaven skin. And wouldn’t she usually spend just a few extra seconds touching him? It seemed so, and that was worth the effort. He wasn’t exactly getting used to that one finger she used when she cleaned him, though. It always found its way into his bottom. She did it every single time she changed him. It no longer surprised him, of course, but still didn’t feel natural or comfortable. He had started being more careful wiping himself in the bathroom, but her actions seemed to indicate that she wasn’t quite satisfied with him. Well, he wasn’t really sure what to do about that. He even googled, “how to wipe properly” to make sure he wasn’t supposed to stick the toilet paper inside, but nobody seemed to recommend that. So there didn’t seem to be anything else he could do to convince her he was doing an adequate job. And he decided that at this point, he didn’t want to have another conversation about it. Talks with her were so embarrassing! So even if he didn’t like it, he didn’t complain again. When she asked him to lift his legs, he would start to tense up, squeezing his anus closed in protest. But it didn’t matter. Her finger, wrapped with a cold wet wipe, still found its way inside him. It didn’t linger, just in and out. But he felt embarrassed to be invaded there. He never really wanted to look her in the eyes for a few minutes afterward. Julie seemed to sense this, however, and often tried to engage him either during the process or immediately afterward, calling him on his reticence if he didn’t answer right away. She seemed to be trying to get him past his embarrassment, though he wasn’t sure why she cared. He wished she would just leave his bottom alone. He’d mostly gotten past peeing in his diaper in front of her, but…there were some things that were just too private. But usually, her hands felt great. During the day, she was generally all business. She changed and cleaned him faster than he could pee and wash his hands on his own in the old days. At the end of the day, though, often amid conversation, her hands would slow down, gently caressing him with a wipe. These cleanings would last long enough that the wipe would warm up and feel so, so good. Her hands would linger everywhere, from his shaved pubic area, to his testicles, to the cleft between his cheek, and to the area right around his bottom. And once he realized that this last change was more of a leisurely and pleasurable event, he began to look forward to it. When she untaped him as he lay back on the table, his erection would spring forth, usually drawing a knowing smile from her. And she didn’t neglect his penis, either. She made sure to clean it carefully and thoroughly, deliberately stroking him. He stopped trying to hide his excitement—how could he? And she seemed to enjoy pleasuring him almost as much as he did. But she never brought him all the way to orgasm. He was not sure why, but she clearly had no interest in going that far. She would start stroking him faster and faster, gripping more firmly, until his breathing began to get more ragged and fast. But whenever he thought that today might be the day, she would stop or pause, leaving him waiting and hoping. After a moment, she might turn and dispose of the wet diaper she had removed, or she might return to stroking him. She kept him guessing. He never voiced any discontent, though. He didn’t want her to feel like he was ungrateful for what she did, or to change their intimate relationship. He thought he understood that she was trying to make this situation more enjoyable to him. He had never had any prior experience with tease and denial in a relationship. But he sensed that Julie was in control, and that it wasn’t up to him what happened. He had learned to relax and enjoy it. He puzzled over the rules that seemed to guide her behavior, though. Why did she think it was okay to caress him, but not bring him fully to orgasm? He guessed it was more professional not to cross that line. This is how he rationalized this end-of-day activity, and defended her denial of him in his mind. He would go home every single day denied and hungry, but didn’t stay that way for long. He found himself thinking about it all day in anticipation. During the day, his diaper and lack of private time kept him from touching himself. But he had no such limitations at night. He rushed home daily to relieve himself, and sometimes would pleasure himself multiple times each evening. He would see her face and imagine her hands on him whenever he masturbated, and fantasized about the two of them together. Oddly, it wasn’t only regular sex he imagined. Though he had never been turned on by leather and whips, he started imagining Julie telling him what to do in the bedroom. She seemed like she would know just what she liked, and how he could pleasure her. She took care of him during the day. He would like to take care of her in return. Despite the direction their work and personal relationship had taken, he wasn’t certain he wanted to push it further down that road. He knew all about sexual harassment, and respected her far too much to chance making her uncomfortable. He’d love to ask her out. But what if he broke what they had? It would be risky. Maybe it was better to be satisfied with their wonderful, strange intimacy just the way it was. And anyway, she seemed to have no problem asking for something if she wanted it. Surely she would tell him? When the next week had ended, he didn’t even consider asking to stop using diapers. She surely noticed, but also didn’t bring it up. They had settled into a very workable—and very enjoyable—relationship. The price for their flirty teamwork—wearing diapers—was high, but it worked! Julie continued to be amazed at how smoothly things were going. He hadn’t even brought up the subject of the diapers at the end of the next week. He seemed to be growing more comfortable in his submissive and infantile role. He accepted her rules and supervision, kept himself closely shaved, and didn’t even complain when she popped her finger in his anus, which she was careful to do every single time she could. That would come in handy sometime soon. Sure, her teasing sessions were undoubtedly helping the process along, but what was new? She had learned that men could be influenced via their genitalia. It was too easy not to do it. Men were just built to be manipulated. It wasn’t their fault. Her job was to use her powers for good. She had always tried to help them do what was needed, and she had a responsibility not to take advantage of their simplicity and hurt them. This particular man was a good man. He was so vulnerable and naïve that she had to take care. So far, she thought she was doing well. Sure, she was taking advantage of male weakness and his need for intimacy. She was inducing dependence and submission, but it was for a good cause. Of course she wasn’t going to let him come. It reinforced her dominance, loving though it was. It let him know that his pleasure was not the main goal. It kept him on the edge, stoking his sexual appetite. It introduced the idea that sometimes he might not get to come, and that she was in control of that. But mostly, it let him know that she wasn’t “easy” or there for his satisfaction. If he wanted more, he’d have to ask (or beg, she thought hungrily). He had been uncertain about their “arrangement” at the beginning, but he wasn’t complaining now. She’d been delighted the very first day she teased him and left him hanging. He had sighed, and she thought he might whine. But instead, he seemed to accept her gift to him for what it was. She knew then that she could develop his submissive nature, even if he wasn’t aware of it yet. He could be perfect for her. Time to raise the stakes. Chapter 10 Two and a half weeks after having Julie first ask him to pull down his pants, his eyes were closed and he was enjoying her end-of-day ministrations. He was really starting to like this, and, maybe, like her, as something more than a coworker. Suddenly, she stopped stroking him and held his penis tightly. His eyes opened, as he sensed she wanted his attention. “I had a patient today who recently had a colonoscopy, and she said the GI doctor mentioned how important it is to take fiber every day. She said everyone should take extra fiber. It can cut down on heart disease and diverticulitis, and maybe even prevent colon cancer. Is that true?” Hoping that a quick easy answer would encourage her to get back to their usual late-afternoon activity, he nodded. “Uh, sure. Important for everyone.” She seemed concerned. “Hmm, I don’t take any extra fiber. Do you?” She started slowly stroking him, and he closed his eyes again. “Hmm, no.” …And then she stopped. His eyes popped open. He found that she was looking at him, as if considering something. “Sounds like both of us could use some fiber. It comes in supplements, right? I’m up for it if you are.” She smiled at him and started stroking again, just lightly, with her fingertips. He knew she was teasing him, maybe even manipulating him in some unimportant way, but he decidedly did not care at this moment. His eyelids closed again. “Sure, sure. Good idea.” Though he couldn’t see it, her smile broadened. “Great, great. I’ll feel much better if we’re taking care of ourselves. I’ll bring in some supplements tomorrow.” She gave him a few more slow, gentle strokes, then off-handedly asked, “Somehow I’m guessing that you tend more toward being constipated?” She saw his eyebrows furrow a little, but he kept his eyes closed. “Um, well…”, he started, but didn’t elaborate. She realized she’d need to help him focus. When her hand stopped again, he realized she’d asked him a question. But he wasn’t really paying attention to her words, so he wasn’t sure how to answer. “Oh, um…What was the question again?” He was very aware that her hand was still on him, now with a tight grasp, but not moving. “Well, you’ve been in a diaper for more than two weeks, and you’ve never asked me about what would happen if you need to poop. So I’m guessing you don’t poop very often?” Whoa. If there was anything he didn’t want to talk about with Julie, it was his bowel habits! He had started to fantasize about her all the time, and she was touching him right now. How could he steer her away from the topic? If he had learned anything about Julie, it was that she wasn’t easily deterred. He’d have to say something if he wanted to move on. “Well, it varies, but I don’t think it’s, like, abnormal.” He was relieved when he felt her hand start to move again. But his heart sank a little when he realized she wasn’t moving on. “Well, that’s good…So when was the last time you pooped?” He sighed in exasperation. “Do we really have to talk about that? It’s kind of personal.” She snorted, though her hand still moved. “I’ve been changing your diaper for two weeks, and I’m touching you in an extremely intimate way right now. Are there really things that are off limits?” She smiled expectantly, raising her eyebrows. His face reddened a little. He didn’t want this to stop, awkward as it was. So he nodded slightly, saying, “Good point. I just don’t really like talking about…that.” She smiled fondly at him, exquisitely enjoying his embarrassment. “Why are you embarrassed about how often you poop?” He shook his head. Nothing he could do would shake this woman. “I just don’t like talking about that stuff.” “Stuff like your pooping habits?” He groaned. “Yes. Like that.” She giggled and gripped him a little tighter, but slowed her stroke down. Part of her goal here was to embarrass him, which, it pleased her to discover, turned her on, but part was to get him to associate being embarrassed with being excited, and to associate her with that embarrassment, and with control. And it was even better to be talking about bathroom habits, over which she was soon to be in complete control. The more confusion he felt about whether he was embarrassed or excited, the easier it would be to manipulate him, both toward her intermediate and her ultimate goals. “Well, I’m not sure why you are embarrassed. You are a health professional, and you talk to patients all the time about their own pooping and peeing.” She looked innocently at him. “It looks like you don’t like it when the tables are turned?” She kept stroking him steadily but very slowly, shaking her head. “Well, too bad. You know it is important. Someone needs to keep you honest.” She suddenly stopped stroking him. “So? When was the last time you pooped?” He sighed, realizing that she wouldn’t stop until he gave her an answer. Blushing, he said, “I guess it was probably on Monday.” She frowned, but started lightly touching—almost tickling—his testicles. “That’s been three days. Is that about average for you?” He nodded slightly. “Yeah, probably.” “But I’ve heard you tell patients that they should take enough fiber so that they poop every day. Are you ignoring your own advice?” He squirmed a little on the table. In response, her grip tightened, seemingly intending to pin him down on this point. “I guess, maybe,” he admitted. “A little.” Her grip relaxed slightly, and he felt her hand move up and down his shaft again. That was nice. He must have said something she liked. He resolved to do more of that if he could. “Well, I can help with that, if you’d like. Would you like that?” she purred softly. All he could think about was her soft, soft hand. “Sure, whatev—I mean, Yes, ma’am. You bet.” She nodded. “I’ve got to keep my doctor happy and healthy, don’t I?” His eyes closing, he murmured, “Happy. So happy….” She smiled down at him. She sure loved compliant men. “So tomorrow we’ll start some fiber supplements, won’t we? And we’ll just keep track of your poops so we know how we’re doing, okay?” He nodded, then, realizing she liked to be answered out loud, said, “Yes, ma’am.” Unknown to him, her smile broadened, and she shook her head. She knew she could get his bowel habits under her thumb, but hadn’t really thought it would be quite that easy. Men really were simple creatures. Her job done today, she efficiently brought him just to the edge of an orgasm, and then cleaned him up. His eyes slowly came open, then focused. He seemed a little disappointed, but—like before—didn’t complain. She left him naked on the table for a moment. “Did you want…me to put another diaper on you to go home?” His brow furrowed as he propped himself up on his elbows. “Well, no, of course not.” He sat up and swung his legs around. ”Why would I?” As she washed her hands, she shrugged. “No reason. It’s just that, by now, you know they have their practical purpose. I realized I’d never asked if you wanted to wear one home for convenience.” He considered for a moment, then shook his head. “No, I don’t think so. No need for that, of course. That…would be weird.” She smiled at him. “Either way. I’m going out to pick up some fiber supplements. Are there any you specifically recommend or prefer?” He was buckling his pants. “Not really. I think pills are generally easier. Never tried any.” As she grabbed her purse, she said, “Well, then, I guess we’ll experiment a little.” Chapter 11 The next morning when he walked into the work room, he noticed a new whiteboard on the cabinet, completely blank except for lines and dates hand-drawn to make a calendar. On the counter were a little box of magnets, and an industrial size bottle that he realized was full of fiber laxative caps. Next to his water bottle, already filled for him, was a little cup with 2 capsules in it. Oh, boy, she was serious. As he set his bag down, he noticed her watching him. He nodded at the medicine cup. “I’m assuming those are for me?” She smiled. “You bet! The bottle says to take 2-4 daily, or however many are needed. I figured we’d start with two daily, and just increase the amount until you are pooping daily. And…”, and here she jumped up excitedly and walked over to the calendar. “…this is the poop chart I made for you! Do you like it?” He reddened. “Chart?” She nodded. “Poop chart, that’s right. When you make a poop the night before, or before you come in in the morning, you can put a smiley face magnet on the day. Or more than one if you’ve been really busy. If you haven’t made a poop since we saw each other, you should put a frowny face.” She held out the box of stickers to him. “Go ahead, try it out!” He stood there staring at the magnets, and then looked up at her, pained. “Seriously?” She looked a little hurt, then resolute. “Yes, seriously. I bought the magnets, and made the chart, so that you wouldn’t have to talk about your pooping every day. I was being sensitive to your weird shyness about your bathroom habits. I thought this would be easier. Would you rather I asked you each morning?” she inquired, her eyebrows raised. “No, no,” he said hurriedly. “I guess the magnets are better than having to talk about…that. Thanks for being so considerate.” She stood there with the box, patiently. Eventually he got the clue. “Oh! Right,” he mumbled. “Well, um…” He found a red sad face magnet and picked it out. He put it over yesterday’s date. “How’s that?” She put the box down. “Well, it’s a fine job with the magnet, if that’s what you’re asking. Your kindergarten teacher would be proud,” she said, patting him on the head comically. “But not so great for your pooping. We’ll see how you do on 2 of these daily, and increase it until we see a lot more happy faces on that chart! Make sure you keep track of your poops! Be sure you mark them on the calendar, because otherwise you might get too much fiber!” She patted him on the bottom, and turned toward their diaper cabinet. “Speaking of which, let’s get you ready for the day!” Something about that comment made him a little uncomfortable, but she ushered him onto the exam table and had him diapered before he could think about what it was. The day was fairly typical for them, busy and efficient. His wet diapers were changed, and not another word was uttered about fiber or pooping for the rest of the day. Within a few days, and after she increased his fiber once, he was able to add a happy-faced magnet to the chart, and was rewarded with a big smile from Julie. He grimaced, eager to avoid the subject. “I know, I know. You don’t want to talk about it. But if you get a few more of those in a row, we won’t need to increase the dose.” She patted him on his diapered bottom as he headed off to see patients. As they were getting ready to go home that day, after his final diaper change, he finally was able to verbalize what had been bugging him. “Julie, can I ask you a question?” he said as they were gathering up their things after the other staff had gone home. “What if…if the fiber works TOO well? You know, here at work?” She blinked at him. “What do you mean?” He blushed. “Well, you know, I’m all for regular bowel movements in theory, but what if we’re here, and I’m, you know, wearing a diaper…” He looked at her meaningfully, but was met with silence. “And…” she prompted, appearing not to understand. Damn it, he thought. She was going to make him say it out loud. “And I need to…” He realized she would not want him to use a medical term. “…poop, here at work. I just want to make sure we’re both…clear…on the fact that there is NO way I’m going to do…that…in my diaper. I’ll just go to the bathroom in that case. I just don’t want you to be surprised or upset when I do. Maybe we could make it so I could tell you once I’m back that that’s why I went, or something.” His cheeks burned. This was ridiculous to talk about. Julie shook her head. “Sorry, no. Out of the question.” He stared at her. “Um…what is?” She stared. “You, using the potty. That’s not going to happen.” He stared back, unsure he had heard her correctly. Maybe she had misunderstood. “No, I mean, in case I should need to…you know…poop.” She appeared to relent, approaching him and laying her hand on his arm. “Sweetie, I heard what you said. I just meant that you aren’t going to be allowed to use the potty at all, even if you have to poop.” As she saw his face darken, she stroked his forearm to comfort him. “It took you five minutes to pee before diapers. Imagine how long it takes you to poop in there. I have waited on you, so I know. If it makes sense for you to use a diaper for peeing, it makes far more sense to wear it for pooping.” He was clearly not convinced, so she continued, “And then there would be the business of you trying to undo your diaper, then trying to refasten it correctly in the potty. That could be dangerous for leaks later.” Her lips pressed together, she shook her head sadly. “I’m sorry. I know you want to use the potty like a big boy when you poop, but I just cannot let that happen. It would be a disaster.” She picked up her purse, as if the conversation were over. But he couldn’t leave it there. He couldn’t let this stand as an agreement. She didn’t seem to understand what using a diaper that way would entail. “But…but…no, wait. But you don’t really want that, right? I mean, changing a wet diaper is one thing, but this would be…different. Gross, and horrible. I—I mean, right? Why would you want to do that?” He thought of something. “Maybe I could do it?” he asked hopefully. That would at least not be so humiliating. “Don’t be silly,” she said, turning to leave. “I’ve told you: I have nursing training, and mommy training. I know what it is like to change a poopy diaper, and I’m prepared to do it if it needs to be done.” Why was she so casual about all this? It made no sense. “But—but—the smell. People would know. I can’t—“ He was close to tears. Seeing this, she stopped. She saw that he couldn’t meet her gaze. She reached up and gently raised his chin so that their eyes met. She squeezed his hands firmly. “If it happens, we’ll manage. I’ll take care of it without anyone knowing, just like we do with your wet diapers. I won’t let anything bad happen. I promise.” She watched his face, seeing the uncertainty. She spoke again, and reached a hand up to one cheek. “Here’s how it would work. You are a big enough boy to tell when it will happen. If you feel like you need to poop, you just come and get me. You don’t have to wait until after it happens. You can interrupt me, and come back to this room. You can poop in here, and then we can change you immediately.” She released his chin, and he looked down. He swallowed. “Maybe we could also stop the fiber. It seems like—“ She cut him off. “Oh, no. We’re not compromising your health just because of your embarrassment.” She snorted softly and smiled. “That would be a bad precedent to set. And anyway, we’ve been doing that for a few days, and nothing bad has happened. I’m not giving you fiber to make you poop at work. I’m not bothered by messy diapers, but I don’t need more of them. You can keep doing that at home.” He was clearly not happy, but nodded and was quiet. She knew he’d be okay with it, just as he had agreed to wetting his diapers. He just needed time. But she needed to be careful with how she handled the next week or two, as he would be fragile emotionally. He was surprised when she drew him into a tight hug. She held him for a full minute. Initially shocked, he realized it felt really good. He felt her reassurance, realized that he needed it, and hugged her back. In fact, it was hard for him not to cry. She was so nice, wasn’t she? She also smelled good. Nice and familiar. She felt him return her hug, and heard him sigh. Holy cow, that was sweet. That kind of emotional connection was definitely one of the major highs she got from mothering. And so soon! She finally released him. “Look, if you poop at work, we’ll get through it. No big deal. Then we’ll go back to kicking some medical ass.” She smiled, and turned to leave. He picked up his bag, and headed out. He couldn’t remember feeling so close to someone. Could he trust her that much? It was scary. But she felt like someone who really could take care of him. Chapter 12 Two weeks later, his calendar was nearly solid happy faces. He was taking 3 fiber caps daily, and he found it fairly easy to have at least a small bowel movement daily. He had not had any work-place disasters, which is how he still felt about the prospect of moving his bowels at work, despite Julie’s reassurances. But it hadn’t even come up. He was feeling less worried now, and didn’t mind the fiber if it made Julie happy. Julie had also noticed his comfort level. They hadn’t changed his dose for a week, so she felt it was safe to make her move. If he had to poop at work, he wouldn’t specifically blame the fiber. It was a Wednesday, which meant a lighter patient load. They’d have some extra time, and they would need it. After lunch, he climbed onto the changing table for her to change his wet diaper. They chatted about the upcoming afternoon, and she marveled how natural a diaper change was for him now. She treasured this intimacy, learned as a mother and miraculously replicated in her workplace. She was about to deepen that relationship. He lifted his legs for her to clean him, and she cleaned him as usual. However, this afternoon, when she poked her finger inside of his bottom, she also deftly popped in a small suppository. She smiled as he kept talking straight through the procedure, completely unaware of her secret gift. She quickly diapered him again, allowing him to sit up and pull up his pants. She watched him closely, but he clearly had not noticed. From the very beginning, she had prepared him for this day, desensitizing him to anal penetration, and she was elated at how easy it was to deceive him. As she watched him settle to finish a few computer tasks before seeing their first patient, she was tempted to feel a little sorry for him for what lay ahead for him this afternoon. She regretted not being able to be honest, but sometimes men—especially her man—needed a little push. This was necessary to take their relationship to the next level. He was seeing his second patient of the afternoon when he became aware of some pressure in his bowels. He suppressed any concern he felt about this development, thinking it was likely to be gas, or perhaps something that he could wait through. But within ten minutes he was forced to admit that this feeling might be more insistent than he had expected. This was very unusual. His bathroom habits were typically subject to whenever he had time for them, and never urgent. But he felt…full, and was starting to get some cramping. He finished up with his patient, and debated whether he should see his next patient, whom Julie had already brought back and put in a room for him. He didn’t like the distraction that his discomfort was causing, but this was outweighed by the horrible embarrassment that he would suffer if he admitted to Julie that he had to move his bowels. He had no doubts about her desire to make him go in his diaper. Despite her assurances that she didn’t mind changing him, he had to doubt this. No one could enjoy changing a messy diaper. He had admitted to himself that he had a big crush on her. He couldn’t bear to have her see him with a dirty diaper. How did he ever stand a chance of dating her if he let her change a messy diaper? He decided that he would trust his ability to control himself rather than give in to the mounting need to poop. This next visit seemed interminable, however, both because of the increasing intensity of the pressure and also because of the nature of the discussion, which ironically concerned a young woman’s problem with frequent diarrhea. While he had quickly determined her problem to be irritable bowel syndrome, her description of her bathroom habits was not helping to distract him from his own needs. He found himself wondering if Julie would forgive him if he dashed to the bathroom just this once. She might not ever know, after all, if he was quick and managed to tape the diaper back the way it was. He had admittedly never tried, but how hard could it be? He started sweating, trying not to have an accident as he stood up to examine his patient. It took all of his concentration, and he found it difficult to string coherent sentences together as they discussed the plan for this young woman. As he rose to escort her to the exam room door, he knew he wouldn’t be able to hold out any longer. He was going to need to poop in the next few seconds. He decided that he didn’t want to face Julie in this condition—it wasn’t manly or attractive or professional. She would have to wait to change a messy diaper. Feeling desperate and ready to run to the bathroom, he opened the door to the hallway. The patient left the room, and he followed. Almost free! Turning left out of the exam room, toward the bathroom, he literally ran right into Julie, who was standing just outside the door. It almost looked like she had been waiting for him, though she could have just been passing by. But she now stood between him and the bathroom, and he let out a little moan at the sight of her. He quickly stepped to the side, hoping she would pass. He might still get to the bathroom if she kept going and he pretended he needed something in the other direction. But she didn’t pass. She took a step to the side also, blocking his path again. She raised her eyebrows, locked his eyes with hers, and imperceptibly shook her head. She pointed behind him to their work room. When he stood still, panicked, wondering if she could possibly know how much distress he was in, she gently took his elbow and turned him toward her desired destination. No! He couldn’t let her do this. He was about to have a major BM, and it might even be diarrhea. He couldn’t let her witness that. He tried to turn back, but she gave him a firm maternal glance that somehow told him she knew exactly what he was trying to do and that he shouldn’t even think about it. Instead, she nudged him toward the room. He needed to plead with her, but couldn’t do it in the hallway. He quickly strode toward their work room, hoping he could hold for another minute. He reached the room and turned around. Julie was following, but appeared to be taking her time. Suddenly a cramp hit him, and he doubled over. He was able to control himself, but realized it would probably be obvious to Julie what was happening. She reached the room and closed the door behind her as he started to straighten up. He saw her pause to lock the door as well, and again felt the panic rise in him. “Julie, please. PLEASE let me go to the bathroom. Just this once,” he panted, holding his stomach. “Don’t be silly. If you need to poop, then do it. We have a few minutes before the next patient, but not long. It would be best to get this over with now.” He gasped. “But—you don’t understand—this is bad. It—it is bad!” She shook her head in consternation. “Then why are you holding it in? There is no need to be so miserable or dramatic.” He was almost to the point of despair. He had iron intestines, but even he had his limits. “No…” She almost smiled. What he didn’t know, and couldn’t know, since he was unaware of the suppository, was that every moment he delayed meant that the effect of the glycerin would be greater and more volcanic. The only thing that would have defeated her plan was if he had immediately expelled the suppository before it could irritate the intestinal membranes. However, because his most fervent wish was not to let anything out of his anus, he was making it much, much worse. His embarrassment was the key to making this plan so effective. But she didn’t smile. She delivered the next line, long practiced and considered, with what appeared to be the utmost concern for his comfort. “I wonder if a lot of that cramping you’re having is from gas. Maybe you could just try to let some of the gas out and feel more comfortable.” She could have cried at the naïve glimmer of hope she saw spark in his eyes at that moment. God bless him, he believed her. Only a man without much experience with diarrhea could have thought this feat possible. Without saying a word, he moved a little away from her and looked away. What happened next would be burned into both of their memories forever. She saw a passing look of concentration, then the emergence of horror on his face. He choked off a short cry, squatted, and let loose a large amount of soft stool into his diaper. It went on and on, and she just stood quietly near the door, watching. He was, of course, consumed with the process, and had given himself over to the full completion of the task. The room quieted, but slowly became filled with the smell of his act. After a moment, his breathing seemed to become regular again, and she gently crossed the room to him. She touched his shoulder, and asked, “Do you think you’re done? Or is there some more poop in there?” He couldn’t answer, or even look at her. She moved so that she was in his line of sight. “Are you done?” Once his eyes refocused on her, he nodded numbly. She smiled. “Then let’s get you into a nice clean diaper. Come over to your changing table.” She grasped his hand and led him toward the table. He waddled gingerly, slowly, and she could see him trying not to let the contents of the diaper touch his skin. Of course, this was futile, but she understood the need to try. His expression soured as he felt the effects of the suppository coat the skin under his diaper. When he had reached the table, she said, “Ok. Pants down, hop up!” Then she caught herself, and said, “Well, maybe not hop.” He positioned himself to ease himself up onto the table, then stopped. “Would you please let me do this myself? It’s…disgusting.” “Nonsense. Pooping is just a natural part of living. Now get up there so we can get you cleaned up. This is advanced diaper-changing and you would be…outmatched. I can do this far faster than you.” And she really didn’t mind. Babysitting jobs throughout high school–not to mention family members in diapers–had kept her changing diapers much of the time. During and after nursing school, she became comfortable with the medical side of caring for grown men, and she had realized that young or old, men often needed her hands to be gentle at some times and firm at others. Her motherhood of young boys had only seemed to reinforce that. She wasn’t put off by the cleanup, and actually found that changing a diaper was one of the more intimate experiences she could have with a male. It was one her first experiences in being in charge. How could she not enjoy that? He sighed, and discovered that he could not really get up on the table without sitting right in the middle of his mess. As he uneasily settled himself onto the table, his expression mirrored the disgust he felt, and she noticed. “It’s okay,” she soothed. “We’ve done this a hundred times. It’s no different to me. Just lie back.” He couldn’t really respond. His mind was consumed with the horrible sensation of warm squish. He wanted to escape, but he felt caught, like a fly in a web. Not having any better options, he sighed, and gently reclined, feeling movement under him as he shifted weight. Once he was down, Julie let out her breath and put on some vinyl gloves. The hard part was over. Now she had to make it—as promised—easier than changing himself. She smiled as he reflexively let his knees fall apart, showing her the discolored diaper he wore. She untaped him, and pulled open the front of his diaper, immediately instructing him, “Up.” As he pulled his knees up, she took the diaper and efficiently wiped the bulk of his mess off of him, rolling it as she went. A few wipes later, and he was clean. She removed the dirty diaper and placed a clean one under him, powdering and taping him quickly. Within 2 minutes he was sitting up and swinging his legs over the side of the table as if nothing had happened. Julie disposed of the diaper as he dressed himself. She caught him as he was trying to turn away, toward the door. She stood in his way and waited for their eyes to meet. Still ashamed and wanting the experience as far in the past as he could make it, he couldn’t escape her gaze. When he caught sight of her raised eyebrows, he intuited her meaning quickly and now felt bad that he hadn’t said what needed to be said. “Thank you,” he said softly, staring at the floor. He felt her lift his chin again, which made him feel like a little kid. But for some reason he allowed this, and once she held his gaze, heard her say, “That wasn’t so bad, and I don’t think it is gross. If it happens again, please man up and let me change you, okay?” He was silent, his emotions muddled and his mind spinning. How could she not hate what just happened? He wanted her to think of him as a man, not a baby. But she was equating being a man with letting her change his dirty diaper. He was finding it hard to come to terms with what their relationship was. Shouldn’t it be employer/employee? It seemed more like mother/child. She couldn’t really be attracted to him at this point. Not after that. Of course, he felt grateful to her for making him feel better when he had felt terrible, and for not humiliating him about it. It could have been much worse, but she had been so kind. But he was deeply infatuated with her, and wanted to spend time with her. He lusted for her and loved her hands on him. He respected her intelligence and clinical skills. He wanted to be manly around her, to take her and kiss her, but she seemed to want him to be more passive and childlike. And—if he was honest—that did feel like the more natural role for him in this relationship. She was so strong and certain. It felt right to let her be in charge. She saw the thoughts whirling through his brain, and sensed a lot of internal conflict. What could she do to help? What did he need more than anything right now? Probably acceptance. Impulsively, she drew close and put her arms around him, holding him warmly and tightly, as she had first done two weeks ago. She felt his body stiffen for a moment, then relax a bit, then she felt his arms around her, too. She smiled. Chapter 13 He was tense the next few days, unsure how Julie would act toward him, worried that he would have more diaper disasters or that he couldn’t trust his bowels. But everything with her seemed back to normal to him. Julie was nice, and, though he was sensitive to any change in how she talked to him or looked at him, their relationship didn’t seem to have changed. He relaxed a little, breathing easier when each afternoon progressed without those horrible cramps. He was reassured that his system seemed back to normal. It didn’t seem to be the fiber, he realized. He was moving his bowels daily, but mostly at home in the morning, where he could go in private, just as he wanted it. His accident must have been a fluke. These days at work were really great. He’d gotten over the weirdness of wearing a diaper, which was still bizarre, of course. He was wetting his diaper much more instinctively now. Sometimes he wasn’t even aware of it, and was surprised when Julie would surreptitiously cup his crotch and then raise her eyebrows at the heavy dampness. He was enough used to a wet diaper that he didn’t mind it much. That was bizarre too, when he thought about it. But he was kind of enjoying not focusing on when he wet. It seemed like he really ought to take advantage of the perk to wearing diapers, right? And no one but Julie knew about it. It was their secret, as far as he could tell. They worked like a team, and the work burden seemed so much lighter. He got home earlier, and was less tired when he did so. While her methods were unusual, and he could never tell anyone about their agreement, he couldn’t argue with her results. He did have a surprise outside of work that week, however. Before he left each day, when he was on the changing table for the last time, Julie would ask him, “Do you want me to put a clean diaper on you to go home in? Or do you just want to wear your underpants home?” It seemed like a weird question each and every time she asked it. While he had conceded to the infantile garb at work, there was no logic to why he would want to wear a diaper outside of work. He had asked her one evening why she would give him a choice he so obviously wouldn’t take. She shrugged and smiled, as if she were just being accommodating, as if some people might actually answer yes. He shook his head, amused. It was one thing to use a diaper for a specific, noble purpose like he was doing, he thought. It would be another simply to choose to wear one on his off time. But as he stood in line at the grocery store a few nights later, he became aware of a curious warmth in his pants. He thought he was leaning against something warm, but then he felt trickling down his leg. He looked down, startled, and realized he had wet his pants, something he hadn’t done in 30 years. He moved closer to the counter, shielding himself from view, then later held the grocery bags in front of him to preserve his dignity. He made it to the car without anyone seeing, he thought. But it drove home an important point: maybe there actually was a downside to mindlessly wetting his diaper. He had to discipline himself to control his bladder carefully, even at work, when he didn’t technically have to, or this could become a slippery slope that led to his needing to answer Julie’s nightly question differently. During the following week, things were going so well at work that he again started pondering the idea of asking Julie out. He still wasn’t sure about the wisdom of such a move, but he was becoming more infatuated by the day. There was something about the gentle efficiency of their interaction, the confidence of her work with patients and, honestly, with his needs, that made him feel like he wanted to see more of her outside of work. At work, she always had his back. He longed for that feeling outside of work as well. That afternoon, she again spent a few moments longer than needed touching him after the patients had gone. He had gotten used to the idea that it was just a nice reward for a good day’s work, and that she would never take it so far as he’d like. But maybe if they weren’t at work… As they were leaving the office, he couldn’t help himself. “Would you ever have time to grab some dinner?” She stopped suddenly, surprise on her face. He reddened when she didn’t respond right away. “Oh, I’m sorry,” he stammered. “I didn’t mean to make you feel uncomfortable. I—I just meant…” He didn’t really know how to excuse his proposition. He felt her hand on his arm. “No, it’s okay,” she said warmly, smiling brilliantly at him. “I just can’t believe it took you so long. I would LOVE to have dinner with you.” He exhaled. She’d said yes! “…But I’m afraid that it might be hard to go out to a restaurant. My kids need to eat too, and I’d feel bad about asking Mom to sit for them into the evening. Maybe you could come over sometime and we could eat at my house? You could meet the little guys. I know it’s not romantic, but it is about the best I can do right now.” He nodded vigorously. He’d heard a lot about the boys, and was so thrilled to get to see her that he would have done about anything. She would check her calendar about a workable date. He drove home elated. She’d expected him to ask her out! He hadn’t misread their relationship. And somehow, for some reason, changing his diaper every single day hadn’t diminished her romantic interest in him. That seemed too amazing to believe. The next afternoon, he felt a gentle rumbling in his gut that normally meant he needed to visit the bathroom. It wasn’t urgent, like the other day, however. He plowed onward, seeing patients, feeling a fullness, but nothing he couldn’t handle. It was a very busy day, with his schedule packed. He had added some appointments into the evening to accommodate the demand. This was a bottleneck point in the day, as sometimes happened. He had a complicated patient who needed labs, some referrals, and an EKG. Julie had gotten stuck helping the patient in the room, and hadn’t been able to bring any other patients back for him. He looked for another patient to see, and, seeing none, found himself wandering back toward the other end of the building. He hadn’t specifically meant to, but realized he was outside the staff restroom. He hadn’t been here in nearly a month. As he stared at it thoughtfully, his intestines complained again. He glanced back down the hallway toward his empty workstation. Would Julie mind? Would she even know? Probably not—she was swamped. Certainly if he took care of his bodily functions on his own, especially this afternoon when they were so busy, it would help them both out. Why not? The clincher was that, looking forward to their “date”, the last thing he wanted was for Julie to have a fresh memory of changing another dirty diaper. He quickly ducked inside the bathroom and locked the door. He lowered his khakis, then fumbled with the tapes on the diaper. He carefully pulled them off, and was pleased to see that while they stretched the plastic, they hadn’t ripped it. This was going well—maybe he could do this from time to time and never have to have Julie change another dirty diaper! He rushed a bit, conscious of the need for efficiency. When he stood up again, he found that re-taping the diaper might be the hardest part. He clenched his legs together, holding the diaper roughly in place, then re-affixed the tapes in what he hoped was similar to their prior locations. He pulled up his pants, washed his hands, and rushed back down the hall. He got back in plenty of time to greet Julie as she was leaving the patient’s room, looking harried. She was focused, as always, on her work duties, and he smiled at his decision. If he was smart, he could make this work, limiting their interactions to wet diapers, and avoiding any messy ones. He was happy with himself and relieved to have avoided further humiliation, but felt hesitant about sharing that good idea with Julie. The fact that he couldn’t talk to Julie about it gnawed a little at him, but he put it out of his mind. They worked hard for the rest of the afternoon, then finished the early evening in rapid fashion. He did need a diaper change later in the afternoon, and though Julie frowned a bit as she confronted his doctored diaper, she didn’t ask any questions. As usual, their teamwork had dispatched a huge workload quickly and efficiently. However, due to the extra appointments, they were still the last two staff in the office. As they finished their tasks on the computer, Julie turned to him, and wearily said, “Okay, time to get changed for home.” She seemed a little less chipper than usual, but it had been a very long day. He obediently unbuckled and hopped up on the table as she locked the door. Despite the fact that no one else was in the office, he gratefully noticed that Julie took no chances. She had his diaper off, and his bottom wiped in a moment. She didn’t really tease him much today, but maybe she was really tired. She tossed the wet diaper and retreated to her workstation. He swung his legs off the table and leaned down to pull up his pants. She interrupted him. “Could you…leave those down for just a moment?” He stood up, a little perplexed. His shirttails covered his nakedness, but his pants and boxers were still around his ankles. Usually at this point, she was washing her hands and gathering her things to leave. Tonight, though, she was sitting at her desk, turned toward him, and wasn’t quite meeting his eyes. “What’s wrong?” he asked. She took a deep breath, then blew it out. “We need to talk.” She met his eyes. “Did you make a poop today?” He could feel his cheeks start to burn. She couldn’t possibly know. He just had to play it cool. “Not at work.” Her face fell. She looked disappointed. “Well, that’s not what two different nurses told me. They saw you go into the potty for about five minutes this afternoon. They said it seemed unusual to them, since it almost never happens these days.” She gave him a wry smile. “They don’t know anything, but they still could tell you shouldn’t have been back there.” He stood still, unaware of how ridiculous he looked with his pants down. He was trying to think how to explain his presence in the bathroom. “Well, that’s true. I did go back to the bathroom, but that was to clean my tie. It was after lunch, and I’d spilled something on it.” She frowned a little. “And there was something in the potty you specifically needed? We have sinks and mirrors in all of the exam rooms.” He paled a little, but decided to stick with this story. It was as good as he was going to get. She shook her head sadly. “I guess I could have predicted it would come to this at some point. Look, I already know you went back there to poop on the potty. I noticed that your diaper had been removed and replaced, and I figured that it happened during that nightmare of a patient we had this afternoon.” Her lips pursed. “So we have a problem.” His gaze had fallen to the floor. He’d been caught. At this point he couldn’t think of anything to say. “There are several issues I have with this…situation. One is that you went back to poop on the potty, wasting time that could have been spent on patients.” He protested, explaining that he thought he was making good use of the time. She cut him off. “No, it was wasting time. You could have asked another nurse to bring a patient back, or been working on phone calls and other tasks. You can’t replace a diaper as fast as I can. You know that.” His mouth hung open a little. He shut it self-consciously. Good points, all. “Two is that you broke your promise. We had a system worked out together, and were working as a team. You decided on your own, without discussion with me, your work partner, that you knew better, even though we had specifically talked about this exact situation.” Now he was really starting to feel guilty. They were a good team. He had learned to value that. Maybe— But she was not done. “Finally, you lied to me. You stood right there a moment ago and lied about having pooped on the potty. This is the hardest for me to take. I…felt like we were…” She broke off, apparently unable to finish. She stared at the floor for a moment. He wondered if he should say something. But then she continued. “But now I don’t know how I can trust you.” She looked up at him. It looked like there were tears in her eyes. His heart melted. He felt terrible. He looked down, searching for something to say, and noticed that his pants were still bunched up around his ankles. This was not a comfortable way to have a talk about their budding relationship. He glanced up at her and gestured to his pants. “Um…may I…?” She shook her head slightly. Her voice had regained some control. “No, not yet, if you don’t mind.” He folded his hands in front of his waist. He suddenly felt awkward in front of her. Why was she keeping him half naked in front of her? Then she cleared her throat and spoke. “What do you have to say for yourself?” He looked up at her blankly. “Um, well…” He thought for a moment. May as well be honest at this point. “You were in a room, and we were clearly backed up. I felt the need to go to the bathroom, and I thought—“ “You mean, you felt like you needed to poop. You don’t have a need to go to a bathroom any more,” she corrected helpfully. He faltered. Why did he need to talk like a child? Whatever. “Okay, yes, I needed to…”go”. And I thought there was no way that you would have time under the circumstances, and that if I took care of it, it would help us get back on track. I was trying to help.” He smiled at her hopefully. Julie didn’t look convinced. “You mean, you don’t like pooping in your diaper, and you found a good excuse to run to the potty instead.” He nodded slowly. “Well, that, too. I…well, it’s embarrassing.” “Did you think it was fair for you to decide that all by yourself?” she asked, her eyebrows raised. He paused. This was the crux of it, wasn’t it? Wasn’t it his business? “Look, Julie, I decide things all day. Important things. It’s part of my job.” She eyed him. “Yes, you do. But not your potty business. When it comes to your pooping and peeing, that’s my job. We decided that together. It’s part of what makes us a good team. You let me handle the things you don’t do well. Is there something about how I’ve treated you that hurt you or that you didn’t think was done well?” He was getting exasperated. “No, of course not. You…are wonderful. I love our time together. But…I don’t think that going to the bathroom in my diaper—especially that way—is masculine.” Now she looked frustrated, too. “’Going to the—oh, you think that pooping in your diaper, and letting me change you, makes you less of a man? I’ve told you that you are hung up with childhood impressions about diapers and bodily functions. It doesn’t matter to me at all. So when you say that this embarrasses you, I think that it ought to embarrass you more to have all those preconceived notions about using diapers for their intended purpose. I think you should grow up. What matters to me is being efficient, being honest, and taking good care of our patients. And you violated those things today, each and every one of them.” He stood silently, trying to absorb her words. Her weird perspective on diapers and changing him still baffled him, but he really liked her and was trying to understand. More than anything, he wanted to be able to work with her in the future, and, beyond that, to go out with her next week. All of this seemed in jeopardy right now. “Now, I will grant you that you were partially motivated to help me, and that is the only reason I am willing to look for some way past this terrible error in judgment. And I can only think of one way you could prove your commitment to me and to our team going forward. It would take great personal sacrifice, and—fittingly—would require you to let go of some childhood stereotypes.” He looked up. He had no idea what she was talking about. But if she was offering a way out of her doghouse, he was willing to take it. He was willing to do just about anything. But he was initially confused about what she proposed next. “If you really want to prove to me that you care for me, and for what we are doing here, I need to see a token of sacrifice from you.” He shook his head, trying to read the inscrutable expression on her face. But as she reached into her purse and brought out a compact but heavy-looking hairbrush, his eyes opened wide. She sat up straight, and smoothed her scrubs, then expectantly brought her eyes up to his. He stopped breathing as he realized what she was proposing. This was why she wanted him to keep his pants down. She wanted to spank him for going to the bathroom. Here, in his office. It was ridiculous. It took things too far. Yet there she sat, brush in hand. Was this real? Would she really do it? Of course she would; she’d changed his diaper a hundred times, for God’s sake. But he couldn’t let her do this—it would change their relationship, wouldn’t it? How would they work together? How could they date each other? He wanted to show his dedication to her, to work, to their patients, but not like this. “We—we—we can’t do this here,” he protested weakly, not able to verbalize anything else. “This is crazy.” Julie shook her head grimly. “No one else is here. The building is locked, and so is this door. We’re completely alone.” He looked around, a little panicked. Oh, crap. “But…I’m a…I’m your boss. It wouldn’t be right. Isn’t this, like, inappropriate?” She dipped her head and looked up at him sardonically. “Seriously? After everything else, you’re going to worry about sexual harassment? I don’t think anyone would blame you for going over my knee, or me for spanking you. What other arguments do you have on your list?” He started to sweat. “Julie, I don’t want to do this! If I let you do this, that changes us—this—our relationship. How could we work with each other again? I—how would we ever go out? How could we date each other? What kind of relationship could we have?” She laughed. “You don’t think some partners spank each other? I’ve got some websites for you, mister.” Then she became serious. “I think I understand. You’re worried that this changes our power dynamic, that I won’t be attracted to you if you give in to being punished by me?” He nodded, hands still clutched in front of himself. “But you’ve got it backward. I realize it will take tremendous strength of will and discipline for you, a fully grown man, and a doctor besides, to bend over my lap and take a spanking. It will symbolize that you trust my judgment. That you acknowledge that what you did was wrong, and that you are willing to sacrifice your dignity, not to mention putting up with a little pain,” she said with a wry smile. “If you agree to this deal, I’ll forgive you completely, because I’ll see your strength and devotion to your practice, your patients, and our agreement. I’ll see you’re sorry for your mistake, and willing to move forward with a clean slate. It takes a real man to choose this route.” He swallowed. He saw how she could offer such a thing. He could erase what he’d done if he could put up with this…deal. He met her eyes, and nodded. She was telling him that she’d forgive him, that they could still be together, go out on a date. She would still respect him. “I want…that,” he told her. She nodded briskly, and patted her lap. “Then let’s go, young man.” He stared at her lap, and considered once again whether he really wanted to take this step. He looked up at her face, which was firm, but which he’d learn to trust. She wouldn’t hurt him too bad, would she? She liked him. And how bad could a spanking hurt? He was a grown man, and she was just a woman. He shuffled forward, struggling to walk with his pants around his ankles. She pointed to the right side of her, and he moved to comply. A part of him felt like this was unreal, like it couldn’t really be happening. But there Julie was, helping him ease over her lap, telling him to hold his upper body off the floor. He felt his legs dangling helplessly in the air, then felt a cool breeze on his bottom. He assumed that was his shirttail being lifted. His suspicion was confirmed, as he felt Julie’s fingers run lightly over his bottom. He felt goosebumps form on his arms and legs. Suddenly, he felt quite vulnerable. And he remembered that it wasn’t just about embarrassment. Julie had said something about pain. He questioned his earlier assumption. Could it really hurt? He hoped it wouldn’t hurt that much. I mean, he reassured himself, it could mostly be a gesture. He was about to clarify when he heard a loud smack. A moment later he felt pain on his bottom. It wasn’t bad, and he was relieved. It hurt, but he could stand it. He heard, then felt another blow, this time to the other side. She was spanking on the lower part of his bottom, he realized and noted in some part of his brain. The spanks kept coming, and he could see how it could eventually become difficult to tolerate. So…how long would it last? The answer was, at least a few minutes, he discovered, though it was hard to tell. And then it stopped. He let out his breath. That could have been worse, he thought. It was more about the gesture. Sure, it was embarrassing, but it was tolerable. And now they could move forward and forget it. But she didn’t let him up. She shifted her weight, then shifted back. He felt something cold against his bottom, something hard and foreign, moving around, like it was soothing him. “I hope you didn’t mind that little warm-up. I have found that boys can take a longer spanking if there is a hand spanking first.” Trepidation seized him at that point. That was the warm-up? “Now let’s get down to business. I want you to count these off. Don’t lose track, or we’ll start again. We’ll stop when I think it’s time. You can be thinking about what led to this spanking, and how you’ll change in the future.” Suddenly, he heard a swat, and felt a searing pain in his backside, right where her hands had hit him before. But that was it, just one. He was sure that couldn’t be it— “I’m waiting for you to count, young man. Let’s start over.” SMACK! “One!” he spat out quickly. But as soon as he’d said it, another came down, now on the other side. SMACK! This took his breath away. He yelled, “Two!” quickly, before he’d even recovered, but then realized that as soon as he’d said it, she struck again. He felt trapped: he dare not wait too long and get her angry, but he didn’t want to count too quickly. It became a game of seeing just how slowly he could count. Before he’d counted to twenty, he was having trouble concentrating on the numbers. He couldn’t control her strokes, even though he desperately wanted this to stop. He feared having to start over again, so he yelled out numbers. In between spanks, he would hear her voice sometimes, asking if he would ever lie to her again. Would he ever poop on the potty at work again? Would he ever break his promises again? He blurted out answers, then tried to say the number, trying to make her happy with him. It didn’t seem to matter what he said, however, as the paddling continued. But he eventually started to hear another noise in between the numbers, which he couldn’t control. He realized that he was crying. He couldn’t really say numbers anymore, but it didn’t seem to matter. Julie was strong, and kept going, long past his tolerance for pain. He ended up wailing and crying loudly, for what seemed like a long time. Eventually, mercifully, the spanking stopped. He heard the brush set down on the counter somewhere behind him. He tried to stop crying, but couldn’t, not right away. She helped him up, and took him in her arms. It was just what he needed. He cried softly for a few moments, murmuring, “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.” She cooed back at him, saying, “I know, I know. You’re a good boy,” quietly into his ear. She stroked his back until he had gotten his breathing under control. He sniffled a little bit, and eventually felt like the hug had gone on long enough. He pulled away a little, and she leaned back from him, reaching a tissue for him. He gratefully took it and wiped his face and his nose. Julie helped him stand up, and sent him to the corner of the room with a nod and her pointer finger. He didn’t mind. He didn’t want to face her in this state. Standing in the corner helped him compose himself privately, which he needed. “Hands on your head, please,” she told him as he shuffled awkwardly to the corner. He heard her clicking on her computer, and then heard her chair scrape the floor. After a few minutes, he heard her voice. “Okay, you can be done. Turn around.” He turned around shyly, letting his arms fall. She was right there, and she was leaning down in front of him. She grasped his pants and pulled them up, helping him tuck his shirt in, and buckling his belt. She handed him his laptop bag, and reached for her purse, which he now saw was certainly large enough to carry her brush. Did she do that every day? Did she always have that brush? Then she extended her hand, and led him silently out of the office. When they got to their cars, she kissed him on the cheek and said, “You did well tonight, you know. Let’s hope that never happens again.” He looked at her, and earnestly told her, “It won’t.” She smiled warmly. “I’m glad to hear you say that. But if it does, you can expect to be over my lap again. See you tomorrow, okay? Be good.” His bottom burned like crazy, and did hurt quite a bit as he tried to get into his car. He was sure he didn’t ever want to endure something like that again. If she wanted to change his dirty diapers, that was fine with him, just as long as she didn’t bring out that brush again. Anything was better than that. And yet, he reflected on the way home, he somehow felt so much closer to her. He felt grateful to her for offering a route back to her after his bad decision. He felt forgiven and cleansed in a way. It had been a surprisingly intimate experience for something that did not involve sex. He marveled over this. But thank goodness it was over. He went to bed early that night, at least in part because it was easier to lie down than to sit up. He realized then why she had focused so intently so low on his bottom: she knew how to make the discomfort last. She’d gone after the place he sat on. And—indeed—he kept thinking of her all evening. He slept easily, feeling exhausted. The next morning, there lingered an extra closeness between the two of them. He had felt that before with a woman, but only after sex with a partner. They had shared something special, and though he never wanted to share it again, he almost understood why she had done it. All anger seemed forgotten, and all animosity had disappeared. When she changed his diaper, he felt her touch his bottom tenderly, then whistle. “Wow, what happened back here?” she said coyly, giving him a sidelong glance. She rubbed in some lotion to the sore, red, bruised skin, and this felt wonderful. Once he was rediapered, as he was pulling up his slacks, she broached the subject of spanking again. “I know it hurt, but there’s an advantage to a spanking, you know?” He stared at her. “I’m sorry?” he said, unsure he’d heard her correctly. “Oh, yes. It is a wonderful way to clear the air, I’ve found. Spanking is my preferred way to settle scores. It is so much better than letting disagreements stew, arguing for days. Can you see how nice it is to move on with no hard feelings?” He stood for a minute, silent. He enjoyed this new closeness, and certainly didn’t want to argue about this if it would complicate things. And…she was right, to some degree. He wasn’t sure it was the only way to move on, but he was glad not to have to revisit his mistake from yesterday. “Yes, I guess so. But…it doesn’t mean I liked it. I…don’t ever want to do that again.” She smiled. “No problem. Just behave yourself, okay?” She patted him on the bottom and sat down to work, satisfied that he had accepted her disciplinary authority, and that he had essentially agreed to accept it in the future. The conversation made him a little nervous, as he considered the possibility of having to face Julie’s hairbrush again. But he didn’t argue with her. It obviously was effective, and had brought them closer together and allowed them to move on. He thought he understood why she liked it. He was still sore. The next few days he was tender, even with the diaper, and every time he sat down, he thought of Julie. Again and again, he swore never to disobey her again. Chapter 14 He made sure he was extra good that week. He didn’t need to move his bowels at work again for another week, and he was hoping it wouldn’t ever happen again. But on a Friday, just after lunch, he felt a lot of pressure, and his hopes sank. He was talking to one of his partners, and he ended the conversation and looked around furtively. He really needed to go to the bathroom, but—Julie wouldn’t like it. He walked tentatively up to their workroom, and, catching her eye, approached her. “Hey, um. I…think I’m going to need…” He trailed off, still embarrassed about the whole thing. He wanted to do this right, but how could he tell her, and have her change him? It was just so awkward. She stared at him for only a moment, but then completed his sentence. “…to poop?” His surprised expression made her smile. “It wasn’t hard to figure out, you know. You haven’t had a poop for a few days,” she said, gesturing at the magnet chart they still used to modify his fiber intake. “And it’s after lunch. My little boys at home usually go after a meal.” His face reddened and he stared at the floor. “Um, well, I wanted to let you know, ‘cause…” She touched his arm. “Because you didn’t want another spanking? That’s a good boy,” she quietly said, pleased. She shrugged. “Well, have at it. We have a few minutes before patients arrive for the afternoon.” She patted his front, which no longer shocked him, and noted that he had already wet, so he was due for a change anyway. He was surprised. He once again hadn’t remembered peeing. He had meant to work on making that more voluntary, something he tried to do, rather than letting it happen. But this time, he wasn’t even aware of it! Right now, however, there were more important things to worry about. Julie went back to work at her computer, apparently leaving him to do his business right there. He hesitated, again reluctant to use his diaper in front of her. Not for this. Not if he could help it, right? He turned to leave. Maybe he could use one of the exam rooms. They were built for privacy. “Where are you going, mister? I thought you had to poop.” If he could have colored any more, he would have. “Uh—well, I just thought I’d duck into one of the exam rooms…” But Julie was already shaking her head. “Oh, no you don’t. You can’t go stinking up one of our patient rooms. We’re going to use those rooms. If you’ve got to go, you can do it right here.” Now he paled. “In front of you? I can’t.” She looked at him. “Really? You did it the other day. You’re wearing pants AND a diaper. I can’t see you do it! What’s the big deal?” He was dumbstruck. Did she really not have the same sense of shame that most people had, or did she like embarrassing him? “I don’t want to…do it…in front of someone else. It’s embarrassing.” Julie shrugged and went back to working. “Poop, or don’t poop. But I’ve got work to do, so if you’re going to poop, it will be right in this room with me here. Get over it.” A cramp struck him. He looked at the clock. “Please, Julie,” he heard himself whining, somewhat childishly. Suddenly she gave him a stern look, and he couldn’t help glancing at her purse. Did she have her brush today? “Never mind…” he murmured. The corner of her mouth twitched, and she went back to her work. He walked away from her, trying to get behind her and as far away within the room as he could. It was hard to imagine himself being alone, hard to go standing up. It was just weird. But if that was what Julie wanted, he would make her happy. He squatted a little, trying not to make any noise. He couldn’t help a little grunt, however, as he successfully accomplished his task. He felt the diaper push out, and then could feel the mess against his skin. He was consumed with how gross that felt, and didn’t notice Julie pushing back her chair and walking over to him. “Let’s get that taken care of right away, okay?” she said lightly, all business. He waddled carefully over to the exam bed and lowered his pants gently. A horrible smell came wafting up, and he noticed that she had thoughtfully already closed and locked the door. He lay back and allowed her to change him. It was a much faster process than the previous messy diaper, which had been all over the place. He watched her carefully for signs of disgust or impatience, but saw none. It was almost like she really didn’t mind! Before long he was in a clean, dry diaper—a feeling he was now growing to like. Julie was washing her hands, and he thanked her. “No problem,” she said, seemingly happily. “You’ve been a very good boy today.” At the end of the day, she changed him out of his diaper, and said, “I think that we might finally have a day we could have you over for dinner, if you’re still interested.” “Yes, please!” he exclaimed happily, in a voice he realized was probably a little too loud. Who cared? This was great. They set a date about two weeks later. She’d make supper, and maybe he’d bring some wine. It sounded good to him. He’d get to meet her young boys. Then they’d put them to bed, and…who knew? Almost whistling on his way home, he again thought back to the bizarre turn his life had taken. It was so, so weird, but Julie somehow made it feel right. He didn’t mind wearing the diaper for her at work anymore. He wasn’t sure it all made sense, but he had a hot, smart nurse making his days easier, and touching him in all the right places. He really needed to move this relationship along. He had waited a long time to be with her. It didn’t even occur to him to ask her about not wearing diapers any more. It was what she wanted. Maybe it was better for their patient care, but somewhere inside, he was starting to recognize that her happiness was becoming more and more of a priority. When she smiled, it made him feel wonderful. He was leaving a friend’s house the next night after watching a basketball game, stopping to check his phone, when it happened again. He felt hot liquid rushing down his leg, and had some difficulty stopping it. He felt his sock dampen! He hurriedly got into his car and headed home, grateful it hadn’t happened in front of someone. He was no longer sure he could fix this while working at the office. He started to doubt whether he could control himself at all. Monday, he casually mentioned to Julie at the end of the day that wearing the diaper at work had had an unintended consequence of making him less aware when he urinated. She broke into a smile. “Great! I told you there would be perks.” His face clouded a little. “Yeah, but it’s not a perk when it also happens outside the office.” Her smile faded. “Oh. You mean…have you had accidents?” She tried to look concerned. He didn’t answer, but she could read his expression. She sat down. “Oh,” she said again, more to herself. “Well, that’s a problem. How many times?” “Two,” he replied honestly. “I don’t think anyone saw, but they weren’t just little leaks. So, I’m wondering if you have any ideas about how to keep that from happening.” He pointed to the magnet chart. “I mean, you’re good at solving problems like this, I’d bet. Is there anything I can do here at the office to keep that from happening at home? Do you think Kegel exercises would work?” Obviously, Julie did not want to seem gleeful about this development, but that was truly how she felt. She’d been wondering–hoping, really–that something like this would happen, and it opened opportunities to evolve their relationship sooner than she could have expected. She had to seem concerned for him, however. “Would it? There is no harm in trying, obviously, but it doesn’t seem like it is a problem of muscle weakness. More like behavioral training? You’ve allowed yourself to relax your bladder, and now you’re not paying much attention to it.” She chanced a smile. “It does sound nice not having to worry about such things. Most people would probably envy you.” She continued, “But. You could certainly try the Kegels. Until we see whether they help when you are away from work, however, I think we should consider another option.” She looked hesitant. “I’m not sure you want to hear this, but there are straightforward ways to handle wetting problems like this.” He looked confused, so she gave him a little more info, hoping he’d figure it out. “You know, there are millions of people with leakage problems. You see some of them as patients. How do you tell them to handle it?” “Well, they ought to wear protection until they can….” He trailed off. He couldn’t meet her eyes, as he said, somewhat dully, “You want me to wear a diaper at home, too?” Time to make the case. “It doesn’t matter what I want. But I think you might need to wear a diaper when you go out. What a disaster if a patient saw an accident! What kind of advertisement would that be for you and your practice? I think from a business perspective, just until you have the accidents under control, you don’t really have a choice.” He looked doubtful but concerned as he sat at his computer. He could use some reassurance. She got up and came over to him, sitting next to him and touching his arm. “Look, your diaper is invisible to everyone else. You know that. You and I are the only ones who know about it. It is a personal solution that no one has to know about. It might be embarrassing to you, but you are certainly accustomed to it at this point, and it works. It only makes sense, for a little while, at least.” He nodded. “I know that, logically. It’s just so humiliating. It seems ridiculous for a grown man.” Julie smiled to herself, but was careful not to let that show. It certainly was absurd! He was an adult who had let himself be convinced by her to wet and mess in a diaper, at his workplace! He had let her spank him, not for some sexy game, but for discipline. He had shaved himself and let her clean him, count his bowel movements, and restrict him from using a toilet. He had let himself be led down this path every step of the way. She decided that she could help him here, too. “Nonsense,” she said, stroking his arm. “Being an adult is taking care of your problems. And it only impresses me more that you’d be willing to take such a responsible step.” She paused, thinking. “Why don’t we just send you home in a diaper each evening, and you can change out of it when you are done being out and about? You certainly don’t need to wear it at home, do you? Have you had an accident at home?” He shook his head. Thank goodness. “Fine, then. And if you did, you’d be in private anyway. That’s where you can practice keeping your pants dry. And things will be better before you know it!” She got a perfunctory smile out of him, which was probably about what she could expect here, so she considered it a done deal. Part of him had to know that increasing the amount of time he spent in diapers wouldn’t help his “problem”, right? But he didn’t say anything. She was sure he really didn’t like the diapers, so she wasn’t sure why he was so agreeable to this “solution”. Maybe he was just too naïve and optimistic for his own good. And maybe he trusted her. That was good for him in the long run, but not if he had any interest in fixing this “problem.” She stood up, finished with her work, and said, “When you’re done we can get you changed.” He finished a note and hopped up on the exam table, still deep in thought about his bladder issue. She changed him, this time putting a fresh diaper on him instead of sending him out in his grown-up attire. He noticed and looked a bit glum. Maybe she could perk him up a bit. “We’re still on for Friday dinner, right?” This broke him out of his funk. “Yes! Of course. Um, did you decide for sure what I can bring?” he asked, knowing that he was not really in much of a position to help. He wasn’t much of a cook. Perhaps sensing this, she said, “How about a nice loaf of bread in addition to the wine? We’ll have spaghetti. It’s the boys’ favorite.” That cheered him up, and she was happy to see him leave on a happy note. As they walked together to their cars, she noted the little diaper waddle he had and thought happily that it was the first time she had seen that outside the office. That was progress! Chapter 15 Friday night, he showed up at Julie’s house wearing slacks and a button-down shirt, more casual than work, but still looking nice, he hoped. He was also wearing the diaper she had changed him into before they left that afternoon. She had made it clear that it might be best if he kept it on for his visit to her house. “Oh, you might as well. I would certainly understand if you had an accident at my house, but it’s just simpler if you wear it home and then to my house. I can change you there if you’re wet. I’ll even bring a few diapers home with me.” He looked uncertain even then, until she had said, suppressing a laugh, “And I’m sure you were hoping to get naked with me on the first date anyway.” She knew how to make him feel better about the situation. He had grinned and agreed, and now he stood on her doorstep with a slightly wet diaper under his clothes. He was nervous as they took their relationship to another level, and felt awkward that he was doing it in a wet diaper. He didn’t feel very romantic. But when Julie answered the door, dressed up in a pretty dress, her face beaming at seeing him there, he forgot all about the diaper. She was pretty in scrubs, but she looked much better in real clothes! As the door opened, delicious smells of spaghetti sauce wafted toward him, and his stomach stirred. He handed her the bread, some artisan loaf he’d found at a bakery—an actual bakery!—and she ushered him inside. Her little boys were waiting just inside the door, obviously carefully placed there for introductions. Thomas, a 3-yr-old, gave him a high-five when offered, but Andrew, 18 months old, hid behind his mother. They ran off to watch TV while Julie invited him into the kitchen of what turned out to be a modest but nicely kept apartment. They talked about the day while the noodles cooked. At one point, Julie’s hand dropped to his pants, patting and slightly squeezing his diaper. She had done this before at work, almost mechanically, so he didn’t find it strange. “Do you need a change before we eat?” she asked as the food neared completion. “I think I can wait,” he replied, and helped carry dinner to the table. During dinner, where Andrew sat in his high chair but Thomas had a booster seat, they talked about the boys, who warmed up quickly to him once they were sharing food. After dinner, the boys went to play in the family room with some action figures, as he helped Julie clear and wash the dishes. When that was done, she said, “I bet you’re soaked now. Let’s get you changed quickly before the boys need to be changed.” Suddenly, Thomas ran into the kitchen. “Mommy, Andrew pooped!” Julie smiled apologetically and said, “Or, maybe I’ll take care of them first. Do you mind?” He smiled. “It’s fine. If you’d rather, I can actually use the bathroom. I’m helpful that way.” She frowned as she left to find Andrew. “Oh, no. No, just give me a minute and I’ll be ready for you.” He wasn’t sure why she didn’t want him using the bathroom here. It seemed like an easy solution to unburden her, and it wasn’t like there were patients waiting. He’d gotten better at handling his diapers, but she still seemed dismissive of his attempts to help. He sat and chatted with Thomas, until Thomas was called to come get changed. Andrew emerged wearing pajamas, and resumed playing without so much as a glance at him, which told him Andrew was growing more comfortable with him. Apparently Thomas was just wet, but he dutifully followed directions and returned a moment later, also wearing pajamas, very like his brother’s. Then he heard his own name called. The boys didn’t look up, and, smiling ruefully, he followed the sound of her voice back to her bedroom. She was tossing a small wrapped up diaper into a sealed container, and had a large fresh one sitting on her bed. “Time for my big boy’s turn,” she said, smiling, and wrapped her arms around his neck. She kissed him on the cheek, and turned him so he was facing away from her bed. Then her hands came down to his chest, and she playfully pushed him gently back toward the bed. He laughed as he fell onto the bed, then, catching the hint, unbuckled his pants as she locked the door. She changed him without any extra touching, even though he hardened as she touched him. But she pulled the front of the diaper up against his erect penis, pointed up toward his belly, and taped him up quickly. She then patted the front of his diaper, and said with a smile, “You put that away for now. Maybe there’ll be time for that later.” She left the room. He took a deep breath. He’d waited a long time for her to touch him outside of work. But—of course—this wasn’t the time, with her kids awake in the next room. So he took a few deep breaths and tried to distract himself enough that his erection would subside. Unfortunately, it wasn’t so easy when she left his penis in the “up” position. In this position, there seemed like there was more friction and movement against that sensitive part. This combination seemed to make it more difficult to go down on its own. And she had taped the diaper so tight that it was hard to adjust himself, or even touch himself at all. He could barely sneak a finger down to push himself into a more comfortable position after he softened, if he sucked in his gut. He’d kind of gotten used to this type of frustration, but it was still annoying. In fact, he was frequently hard inside his diaper, due both to her deliberate ministrations and also from her more practical touching during changing time. It was certainly one reason he didn’t object anymore to the diaperings. As his desire for her grew, every diaper change was a little magical, so that now almost anything diaper-related made him think of sex. He could hardly see a diaper or smell baby powder without getting a little excited. He was a little overdue for an orgasm; that would certainly help. Normally, he’d have just gone home after work and taken care of that tension himself. But she’d left the diaper on him after work, which put a kink in his plans. So he was ready! And it seemed likely that tonight the reward might be worth all he’d allowed to happen to him this past month or two. Finally, he felt he could leave the bedroom without a visible erection under his diaper. He rejoined the little family as the boys had a snack and read a story before bed. For a while after they were asleep, he and Julie sat up and talked. Eventually, Julie winked at him, and said, “It might just be time to take that diaper off.” In her bedroom, she laid him down on her bed. He sprang to attention as soon as she untaped his diaper. He was surprised and a little alarmed to see he was wet, but was distracted enough by impending events that he didn’t care. Julie noticed his surprise, however, and commented on it. “You didn’t know?” Blushing, he shook his head. “Glad you were tucked away in one of these, then!” Then she rolled it up and tossed it away. Julie cleaned him off, as usual, and this time, did not rediaper him. She cooed to him about how happy he made her, and how she wanted to make him happy. Her soft, warm hand moved up and down his member, and he was in a state of bliss. She reached over to her bedside table, pumped out a little hand lotion, and kept going. He was a little too ready for this, from her, right now. He came quickly, spurting over his belly, even up to his chest. He gasped, and eventually opened his eyes to see Julie smiling fondly at him. She cleaned him off and laid down next to him. “That’s been a long time ‘coming’, hasn’t it?” she asked playfully. “I’ve been sort of teasing you for quite a while.” “Yeah,” he panted. “You have.” He smiled. “But I forgive you. Your hands are sooo nice.” His eyes found hers. “But…I’m sure you’ve been waiting a while as well.” His own hand stroked her stomach. Her breath caught. “Well, perhaps I have. What are you prepared to do about that?” She coyly looked back at him. He smiled. “Anything you’d like! What’s your pleasure, Miss Julie?” “Ooh, ‘Miss Julie’? I could get used to that,” she said, then hummed a little with pleasure as his hands played over her clothes. “I do have a rule about no intercourse on the first date, so no use waiting for you to, um, recharge. But perhaps there is some other way you might be able to help?” She smiled as his face disappeared under her dress. She could get used to this, too. Chapter 16 He left not too long after he’d brought her to two separate climaxes. He felt proud to have shown her his willingness—and ability—to pleasure her this way, and hopeful about this relationship. There were many parts of it that were strange beyond belief, if he was honest with himself. But Julie was special. She was smart and funny, and they clearly seemed to be made for each other. He was still quite sure he could fix this bladder issue. No matter what Julie said, it was weird to try to be the man in the relationship if she was changing his diaper. If he could fix that accidental wetting problem, and not wear a diaper outside of work, that would help his male ego a lot. He wanted to be Julie’s man, not her baby. She was patient, but he worried that if things kept going this way, he’d lose her. Of course, he needn’t have worried. Julie was thrilled with their date, happy with their surface relationship, and ecstatic that he had accepted wearing a diaper in her house. She was setting some important precedents, and he hadn’t really objected. She would dictate the times and manner of sex. He wouldn’t assume he could use her bathroom. And he seemed willing—and capable—of servicing her, which was always a good thing in a relationship. Over the next few weeks, they saw each other often. He dined with them frequently, and really enjoyed getting to know the energetic boys better. They came to expect his visits, and requested him to play with them down on the floor. They would tackle him, and he would tickle them, and Julie would watch, smiling. He always wore a diaper at her house. She did not want him leaking on her furniture, she said, and it was hard for him to argue, now that he wet sometimes without realizing it. At his own house, he went without a diaper, but with only intermittent success. He found his underwear, and sometimes his pants, wet every few days. This drove him crazy. He was sure that if he concentrated, he could solve the problem. But as he spent more and more time with Julie outside of work, he spent less time without a diaper on. And so there was less and less time to work on the problem. One night, Julie took him to bed after changing him out of his last wet diaper. They made love, and afterward basked a bit in the afterglow. “I was wondering if you might want to spend more time with us. The boys love you,” she said, adding shyly, “and I might, too.” His heart raced as he took in her words. “You do?” He reached out for her hand. She looked down demurely. “I do.” Her eyes met his. “Is that a problem for work?” He smiled broadly. “Who cares? I love you, too. We’ll make it work.” “If anyone can, I bet we can. We make a pretty good team, don’t we?” She smiled at him. “Let’s get you ready for bed.” After he had a warm, clean diaper taped onto him, they lay in bed happily for a bit, lost in their own thoughts. She eventually spoke up tentatively. “What would you think…about moving in with us?” She rushed on to explain. “It might be easier for my boys. They’ve grown to expect you here, and are confused when you aren’t. It might be a little tight in terms of space around here, but cozy can be nice, too.” He thought about it. “That sounds great,” he said quickly. He wanted to spend every minute with Julie. “Would I give up my apartment?” She shrugged. “If you want. You don’t have to decide right away. We could just try it for a while.” They weren’t talking about anything permanent, so it wasn’t intimidating. He beamed. “I’m in! Let’s try it.” The next night, after supper, they spent some time talking about the logistics of such a move. They decided on the following weekend, and talked about what he might bring. He wouldn’t really need a moving truck, since her apartment was essentially full. But there were a few things he’d like around, and his clothes. As they cleared the dishes, she looked at him sideways. “You know, it would mean that you have to wear diapers 24/7. I’m still not having you leak on my furniture. Are you ready to man up for that?” He grimaced a little. He hadn’t really thought of that. And that was a big question, wasn’t it? She was laying it out there for him. How much did he want her? Enough to put up with round-the-clock diapers? She saw him hesitate and raised her eyebrows. “Oh, come on.” He wasn’t eager to concede this point right now. Maybe he could put off this conversation to consider how to convince her. “We can talk about it.” She turned to face him. “Well, we’re kind of talking about it now. And it’s not negotiable on my end. My boys need a good role model. To them, the answer to your wetting problem is pretty obvious. You have to wear diapers if you wet your big-boy pants. It wouldn’t make sense to them if you didn’t follow the same rules. I can’t confuse them, and I also don’t happen to like stains and odors.” He looked down. It was hard to argue against her logic. “But how am I going to get better at this if I’m always wearing those things?” She came to him and put her arms around him. “We’ll work on it if that is important to you. But safety—and hygiene—first, you know?” She kissed him. “Guess it makes moving in a little easier, right? No need to bring any underwear.” She smiled at him. He loved her smile. Nevertheless, he resisted, feeling trapped. Wearing diapers was still embarrassing to him. He looked away. “But…I want to be a man for you, not a little boy. How can you love me if you’re changing my…” He couldn’t even say it to her. “Taking care of a medical issue IS being a man,” she reminded him firmly, frowning gently. “Being a good role model to my boys, taking responsibility for yourself, being a good doctor, those are all part of being a grown-up. You ARE a man to me. I don’t care where you go pee-pee.” Her hand traveled down his side and to the front of his pants. “Now, I’m not going to hear another word about it. Instead, it feels like you’re wet, and I’d like to change you and let you show me what kind of man you are.” She squeezed his wet diaper suggestively. He hardened instantly, and she smiled. “Mmm, that’s my big boy.” He wondered for a moment if he’d ever won an argument with her. Then her hand pulled at his insistently, and he decided that, for now, it didn’t really matter. Chapter 17 The boxes were unpacked, supper was served and cleared, and he had just finished the dishes. They had spent the better part of the day moving some of his stuff into her apartment. She didn’t have a lot of extra space, so he was just moving in his clothes (sans underpants), pantry supplies, and books. Julie was getting her boys settled with a coloring activity. He walked into the family room, and felt the pressure start to build in his bowels that told him he was going to need to go. And that meant that it was time to confront Julie about this. He needed to say something now, since it would definitely come up again and again. Time to make a stand. There was no reason he couldn’t poop in the potty at her house. He stood in the entrance to the room, and Julie looked up at him. “Um, do you have a minute?” He shifted his weight uncomfortably. She smiled and stood up, coming over to him. He turned and walked back over to the kitchen table, where the kids would not hear them. “I need to go to the bathroom, and I’d like to use the toilet.” She appeared confused. “Why?” He’d seen Julie take this approach before, playing dumb. It annoyed him, if he was honest. But he managed to keep his temper. “Because I LIKE to use the toilet. I’m a grownup and I need to go.” Her face cleared as she understood. “You need to poop?” she asked. When he nodded, Julie’s face grew firm. “We’ve already talked about this. But I’ll explain again. I want you to use your diaper in this house. I don’t want you in my bathroom except to shave, shower, or brush your teeth. Understand?” she said, looking intently into his face. “Say it back to me so I know you heard me.” “But—“ “No, repeat it to me.” He sighed. “You want me to use my diaper.” “And stay out of my bathroom except for what?” “Taking a shower, shaving, and brushing my teeth.” She patted his cheek. “That’s a good boy.” She turned to go. He couldn’t give up that easily. “But why? That seems unreasonable. I don’t like to…you know, poop…in my diaper. I’d really like to use the potty. And…and…it has to be easier for you if I…take care of it…like an adult rather than if you have to change my diaper, especially when it’s…you know…” She shook her head impatiently. “No, it’s not easier for me. Because it means that you have to bother me to come change you out of your diaper, then wait for you to go, then change you back into your diaper. So it is actually taking more of my time if you don’t poop in your diaper like a good boy. I’m sure you aren’t telling me that your stupid modesty is worth wasting that much of my time, are you?” Her face looked stern now. He didn’t want to make her angry, so this was a fine line to walk. He’d learned that upsetting her would not help him win an argument with her. But his need for a toilet was becoming more insistent. “Of course not, it’s just…” he trailed off, considering a different tack. “I don’t understand why you don’t care about my feelings about this.” Her face turned more tender. “I do care. But.” She caressed his cheek. “Your feelings about pooping are silly, and we have talked about them over and over. You get embarrassed about the funniest things, and I view one of my jobs as getting you over that childish hump. Sometimes being a big boy means doing things you don’t like. And this particular thing is very important to me. Do you understand?” He nodded sullenly, despairing that she would not give in on letting him use her potty. “I can’t hear your manners,” she reminded softly. “Yes, ma’am,” he said, as the pressure in his bowels increased. “It’s just that—“ “Ah-ah,” she interrupted sharply. “That’s the end of that conversation. We’re not having another word about my private potty. Understand?” He nodded, and, when he noticed a pause, said, “Yes, ma’am.” She grabbed his hand, and started to pull him back into the family room. “Then come on back in and join the family. Enough of this silly talk.” He pulled back. “Um, can you please just, uh, give me a moment in here,” he asked, looking around a little desperately. “I just need, like, a minute of privacy. Please. At least give me that.” Julie stepped back and looked him up and down slyly. She suppressed a smile. “No, I don’t think so. I want to show you something in the family room.” He started to object, but when her eyebrows went up, he silenced himself and followed her reluctantly. She went to her boys, who were starting to argue about each other stealing crayons. At least she allowed him to stand behind her, pretending to admire the boys’ drawings, instead of in her line of sight, which was a small blessing. He really didn’t want to poop in front of her, despite everything. He felt his bowels moving, and yet still tried to hold off. “Can I get you anything from the kitchen?” he asked as he started to sweat a little. Anything to let him poop in private. Julie paused and looked around at him. She smiled wickedly. “Oh, no, thank you. Being together is why it’s so much fun to live together.” His face drained. She wanted him to fill his diaper here and now. Not that there was much choice. Damn that fiber! So much harder to fight against it. As she turned her head back to her kids, he let it out, aware that he was grunting softly, but unable to quiet himself completely. He partially squatted to finish. The boys were still busy arguing and coloring, and—oddly—Julie did not react to his act of submission. She had to have heard him. At this point, for goodness sake, she had to smell him. But she kept talking to the boys as if he weren’t there. He didn’t know what to do. Obviously, he needed to be changed. And clearly, Julie must have known this. Did she want him to interrupt her? Or, since she knew, did she want him just to wait quietly? In the office she changed him immediately. Were the rules different at home? He hated to draw attention to himself in this state, so he decided to wait quietly. What he really didn’t want to do was move. But two minutes later, when Julie had shown no sign of paying him any attention, he subtly (he hoped) cleared his voice. Julie looked up at him, and said unexpectedly, “Hey, could you do me a favor? Could you sit here with the boys for a second while I grab them a snack? It’ll just take a second but I don’t like to leave them alone with weapons as dangerous as crayons.” Sitting was the last thing in the world he wanted to do right now. But before he could answer, she jumped up and indicated that he was to take her place at the little coffee table that now doubled as a craft table. He looked at her, concerned, trying to talk with his eyes. “But I—“ She interrupted with one hand on his back and one on his shoulder. “I’ll just stop you there. I think the words you were looking for were, yes, ma’am, right?” She smiled knowingly at him. “Your little…situation…will wait a few minutes. We’re all friends here.” He let himself be guided to the floor. She said helpfully, “Kneeling would be okay, if you don’t want to sit, whichever is most comfortable.” He quickly knelt, leaning forward and trying not to disturb the load in his diaper. She stood behind him now, and he suddenly felt her hands on his head, pulling it back, back, back. He looked up to see her smirking and leaning down to kiss him. “I love it when you are good for me,” she said. He agreeably moved to meet her lips, only realizing as they kissed that she had forced him back on his heels. He could feel his messy diaper becoming messier. She met his eyes briefly, noting the flinching expression on his face. “Just give me a minute. Patience is a virtue.” It was more than a minute. The foul smell enveloped him. He tried to distract himself by asking what Andrew was making. He was mostly scribbling, but determinedly using very specific colors. He would have been a lot more amused had he not been almost entirely focused on his diaper. To make it worse, after about five minutes, he found he could not keep kneeling because his foot was falling asleep. He tried to shift his weight, feeling a squishing around his bottom, but it didn’t help. He tried to pull his foot out from under him, but as he could not feel his foot, he lost his balance and landed hard on his cushioned butt. New waves of stink wafted up toward him, and he choked on the smell. Andrew was oblivious, thank goodness. But he couldn’t exactly make himself comfortable sitting in his mess. How long would it be before Julie returned? He was getting annoyed at her absence, and he was unhappy at the cooling mess in his diaper that, the more he thought about, didn’t even need to be there! He struggled to his feet, shook off the tingling in his feet, and headed to the kitchen. He did take care to walk with his legs apart so that he didn’t make things even messier. Julie saw him waddling into the kitchen and stifled a laugh. She was pushing him a bit tonight to see how submissive he really was. But this night was important to setting their hierarchy in this new stage in their relationship. Apparently, while he was certainly malleable, he still had a little fight in him. She didn’t mind that at all. She didn’t want a wimp for a boyfriend (or husband, if all went well). It was good if he could stand up for himself. But he needed to know that in their relationship, she was the boss, and there were consequences to disobeying her. “Where have you BEEN?” he asked her once he got to the kitchen, his tone a little more angry than he intended. He was so uncomfortable and embarrassed. “If I’m going to have to use my diaper, I need you to change me! It’s…” His voice choked a little. He tried to keep himself from crying. He was so frustrated and uncomfortable. “It’s just so…” Julie was in the middle of pouring milk into sippy cups and getting out goldfish. She stopped and stared at him. “What are YOU doing out here?” she replied icily, staring him into silence. After he trailed off unhappily, she continued, “I gave you what I thought was a simple instruction: to sit with the boys until I got back. I didn’t want them left alone. I was making them a snack that would keep them busy long enough that I could change you. Now please go back and wait with them. Please do not make me upset with you.” “Okay,” he grumbled after a moment. “I just don’t understand what is taking so long.” She glared at him. “Well, I’m sorry you’ve had to spend time with my kids. I promise you that within a few minutes, you and I will be spending quite a bit of time alone together, one on one. Now go sit down at the coffee table.” It must have been the continued preoccupation with his diaper that kept him from hearing the danger in her voice. He sullenly turned around and waddled back out to stand near the coffee table. Rather than sitting again, he decided he would stand to wait. The kids were getting restless. Andrew had stood up and was throwing the crayons at his brother. “Andrew, please don’t throw crayons,” he offered tentatively. Andrew ignored him. This would be a good time to redirect him, he thought, sitting him back down, making him pick up the crayons, or giving him a different activity to do. But that would require him to bend over or sit again, and he didn’t want to move. The weighty lump in his diaper immobilized him. So his intervention was not very helpful, and Andrew threw another crayon. Thomas, of course, did not like that, and soon the brothers were enjoying launching different colors at each other. When Julie entered the room, she took in the scene quickly, pausing only a moment before yelling, “What is going on here? Boys! Pick up the crayons and put them in the box. Now.” The boys quickly complied. Maybe it helped that she was carrying snacks, or the mommy’s-mad tone, but they seemed to know that Julie meant business. She turned to him. “Don’t think I didn’t notice that you’re not sitting like I asked, and that you weren’t helping here. Go wait for me in our bedroom.” Like the boys, he finally recognized that tone, and didn’t argue. He was just happy that she would do something. He waddled into the bedroom and stood near the bed, where there was a changing pad lying next to a large unopened diaper, powder, and wipes. He let his eyes wander around this room, which was now his as well as hers. His eyes settled on a chair from the dining room that was sitting near the window. Was that here before? His musings were interrupted by Julie’s businesslike entrance. “Lie down on the bed on the towel, please,” she said brusquely. She turned and locked the door. Sensing her angry mood, he obeyed quickly. Those boys could really make her mad! He decided he would help ease her stress by showing how he could cooperate. Getting out of this diaper more quickly suited him very well. He laid back into the by-now very familiar position she had shown him. She moved the box of wipes to within reach, and untaped his diaper. She pulled it forward, and said, “Up.” He raised his legs and grabbed his knees. His skin felt cool to the air as the odor suddenly worsened noticeably in the room. He felt her use the diaper to clean the bulk of his mess off, then fold the diaper under him. “You know,” she said as she drew a cold wipe down and across his hips. “We’re all going to need to work together if this is going to work. Those little guys take a lot of work, and I’m going to need your full cooperation. Down,” she said. This time, as he was focused on her words, it took him a moment to realize she had commanded him to lower his legs. He put his feet on the bed, realizing that she did not expect him to say anything. Julie got a clean wipe and used it to clean his groin. He grew hard as she cleansed his penis and testicles, then pulled them to one side, then the other. He hoped she would notice and touch him a little. The door was locked, wasn’t it? But if she noticed, she apparently wasn’t in the mood. His penis twitched, straight up in the air, untouched. He fought the urge to reach down and at least tuck it somewhere so it wouldn’t look so ridiculous. Instead, she continued what he realized was a lecture. “I was NOT pleased with your behavior tonight.” “Up,” she instructed. She finished the cleaning ritual, as she continued, “After I specifically asked you for patience, you came in and yelled at me. If you’d taken time to notice, you’d have seen that I had set up the bedroom to change you, and was making the boys a snack so we’d have time alone.” He was silent, knowing she needed to vent. He realized she was right. She bundled the messy diaper up and wrapped it in a bag. Then she used a new wipe to clean her hands, then tossed all of them into the sealed trash can. “Worse than that, you left the boys alone when I’d directly asked you to watch them. They were getting restless, and I needed you there. You left them alone, and they started making a mess.” He waited for her to grab a fresh diaper, but instead she stood for a moment with her arms crossed. He propped himself up on his elbows. “Yeah, I’m really sorry, honey,” he offered. “It’s just that in the past, you’ve always been so quick about helping me when…that…happens.” She nodded. “Because we’ve been at the office, and we’ve needed to be very discrete. But I’m juggling a lot more balls here at home. I was very disappointed with you tonight.” His cheeks burned. He resented being made to poop in his diaper and then not being changed. Didn’t it seem like too much to ask of anyone? “Look, I said I’m sorry. It’s…just…so gross. You don’t understand. If you want me to use a diaper like that, you kind of need to help me out when it happens. I’m not sure what you want me to do.” She coolly regarded him. “I want you to listen to me and cooperate. Apparently you don’t understand how important that is to me.” She turned around and sat in the chair by the dresser. “So now I’m going to make sure you understand how important it is to me.” He paled as he saw her reach over to the dresser and pick up her hairbrush. His eyes darted around. She had implied this could happen again, but he didn’t think… “Um, I totally understand, Julie. So…but, um…isn’t there some other way? I—I get it now. I understand how important it is to you. I’ll listen from now on. There’s no need for…” But she sat there stonily, staring at him. “If you want to show me that you know how to listen to me and follow my directions, I suggest you come stand next to me right now.” He was sweating a little. He’d been across her lap before and didn’t want to do it again. “But…your boys are…” “They’ll be fine. They’ve got a snack and a little video they love. COME. HERE.” He slowly stood, not sure how else to delay the inevitable. He took a step forward, then another. Her sober face did not promise mercy. When he’d gotten near enough, considering what else he could say to change her mind, she reached up suddenly and grabbed his ear, pulling firmly. Searing pain erupted from his ear. He bent down to relieve it and suddenly found himself over his girlfriend’s lap. She shifted and he found that one of her legs was over both of his. He couldn’t move. He stared at the floor, his stomach in knots. He felt something cool on his bottom. She rubbed him with her brush. “When I tell you to do something, like sit with my kids, or to come stand near me, there is a REASON. I. WANT. YOU. TO. DO. IT.” Each word was suddenly punctuated with a sharp stinging smack to his rear end. It stopped for a moment, and the pain seeped in. He gasped. That wasn’t her hand. She was using the brush right away. This was much worse than last time. “If I can stop to explain, I will. If I don’t explain, you need to understand that I. WILL. EXPLAIN. WHEN. I CAN. JUST. FOLLOW. MY. DIRECTIONS.” He gasped again. It was hard to breathe when she was spanking him this hard and fast. The lecture and spanking went on until he was crying. Crying because of the pain, and crying because he had disappointed Julie. At some point along the line, she stopped talking, but he didn’t notice. Finally, he noticed she had stopped spanking. She let him stop crying, then helped him stand. He stood before her, hands holding his bottom, sniffling. “Look at me, sweetie.” He had trouble meeting her eyes. “Look at me.” She guided his chin upward until their eyes met. “I – I’m sorry,” he sniffled. She smiled. “I know you are. And I’m not mad at you anymore. Give me a hug.” She stood and they hugged for a long time. Eventually she looked at the clock. “We have a few minutes before the end of the video. There are certainly lots of things we could have done during that time if you hadn’t needed a spanking… but for tonight, let’s get you in a nice clean diaper. How does that sound?” He nodded, and laid down on the bed. His bottom still stung, and felt so hot. She retrieved another diaper, and before taping it on him, rubbed some lotion, then some powder, onto his skin. When he was diapered, he stood up. “Can I help you with anything?” Noticing the improved attitude, Julie beamed. “Sure. Why don’t you clean up the boys’ snacks and sippy cups, and I’ll get them ready for bed?” After he dressed himself, they worked to get the boys into bed and the house cleaned up. They snuggled on the sofa watching a movie before Julie yawned and said it was time for bed. Julie let him brush his teeth in her bathroom, then shooed him out so she could pee before bed. She came out and grabbed a new diaper, tossing it onto the bed. “Okay, time for a bedtime diaper.” He had indeed wet himself while she was in the bathroom, so he took his pants off and laid down. Julie cleaned him up, and then, as he hoped, let her hand linger on him until he became hard. She turned down the lights, seductively removed her clothes, and took advantage of his nakedness. As had become their habit, he pleasured her first “to get her in the mood,” then entered her. They came together. Afterward, they lay together for a few minutes, and he felt her hands touch his bottom, still hot from the spanking. “Sorry about the punishment. But I still think it’s better than letting any anger fester unspoken. Don’t you?” At this, her hand drifted around to the front of him. He had to smile. The sex had certainly salvaged the night very nicely for him. “I guess so,” he said thoughtfully. “I still think we could talk about…” He paused when he saw Julie’s eyebrows lift in surprise. “Maybe we can talk about that later. I’m tired now.” She nodded in approval at his discretion. “I bet you are. I’d better get your diaper on you so you don’t wet my bed.” She couldn’t see him roll his eyes, which was good. She cleaned him again, taped him up, then exclaimed, “Oh! I just remembered something I made for you!” Confused, he sat partway up on the bed as he watched her dart to the closet and search for something. “Here it is! Just finished it last night. It’s sort of a welcome-to-our-apartment gift. Hope you like it.” She held out what looked to him like a t-shirt. Wait, no, it was too long—what was that? A nightshirt? She waited for him to say something, good or bad, about her creation—would he accept this next step? Then she saw his wrinkled brow and realized why he was silent. He didn’t know what this garment was. Julie was happy to explain. “It’s a onesie! It can be your jammies now that you live here. You wear it to bed! The boys have always worn one, and I thought it looked so cute on them, I decided to make one for you. The nice thing for you is that it completely covers your diaper. I know you’re still a little self-conscious about that. Do you like it?” He had no idea. He hadn’t been around kids before, and wasn’t familiar with it. But she was so happy, and he was touched by the idea that she would make clothing for him. So he said, “Of course! It’s wonderful.” Her response, a broad smile, made him feel happy. He reached out for it, and she shook her head. She wrinkled it up in her hands, intending to help him into it. He sat waiting, and she stretched it over his head. It fell around him like a shirt, but was quite long. He looked down, frowning. Julie pushed him back. “Lie down, silly. There are snaps.” He let her push him back, and felt her hands pulling at the shirt. It seemed to be connected by something underneath. She was busy for a moment, then patted his diaper. “Ok. Sit up and let’s see how it fits.” He dutifully sat up, feeling the shirt pull downward as he did so. He looked down and saw that the shirt covered the diaper. He didn’t mind that. “Good so far. Can you stand up in front of the mirror?” As he did, he saw that it was just a long t-shirt that snapped at his crotch. He liked not having to see the diaper, though it wasn’t perfect. The bulge from it was still obvious. He looked more closely at the fabric. The shirt was light blue, and had yellow rocket ships on it, interspersed with stars. She saw him looking. “Sorry, this was the only fabric I had around.” He smiled and kissed her. “It’s fine. I like it. I used to love rockets. They remind me of my youth. It was so nice of you to think of me.” She stood back and looked at him. She reached forward and pulled at the crotch, then smiled, apparently pleased. “I believe that is going to work well!” Then she frowned slightly. “But those snaps are kind of tough to handle if you can’t see them well. If it’s all the same to you, why don’t you let me be the one to snap and unsnap them. You don’t really have any need to bother with them.” “Yes, ma’am,” he responded instinctually. But he was still thinking about the childish fabric. He didn’t really love it, but it wasn’t nearly as bad as some of the other stuff he put up with, for God’s sake. And tonight, he certainly wanted to stay on Julie’s good side. His bottom still radiated heat, trapped by the diaper. But lying close to Julie overnight, the heat faded, and he felt safe, falling asleep with her arm around him. Julie was awake for a while, musing over how perfectly this evening had played out. She’d made it clear firmly but lovingly that she was in charge, and he had eventually accepted it, as she knew he would. He’d be careful about listening to her, at least for a while, until he’d need another reminder. He understood that the potty was off-limits. She could keep him out of the bathroom except for supervised visits. He’d help with the boys, which was wonderful. And she’d really only gotten started. Now that he was here, his training could really ramp up. Never out of diapers. Never unsupervised in a bathroom. And now in a onesie, which would help keep his hands from mischief. She smiled and closed her eyes. Chapter 18 The next day was Sunday, and he slept in. When he woke up, he found Julie had already awakened. As he heard the boys chattering happily in the kitchen, he understood why. Small children didn’t allow parents to sleep in very late. He was immediately aware of how hot he was. Well, not all of him, but his crotch. He was confused for a second until his hands found his diaper. He had not slept in his diaper before, and he found he was a little sweaty. But then he wondered if it was really sweat. He pushed at his diaper and was relieved that it didn’t seem wet. But he couldn’t see that little indicator strip now that he wore his onesie. He could unsnap the onesie and look, but—oh, crap, Julie had told him not to do that himself, hadn’t she? Well, he probably didn’t really need to look. He could tell he needed to pee, pretty badly. He got out of bed and turned toward her bathroom. He sighed. That’s right. It was her bathroom, not his. Since he was wearing a diaper, he didn’t have a reason to go in there, did he? She seemed very territorial about it, for some reason. Maybe issues from a past relationship? Otherwise it seemed weird. Should he find her and talk about that? It needed to happen. But—he could hear her, busy with the kids. This wasn’t a good time to get into it. And…he really needed to go. For now, he decided he might as well use this diaper. I mean, he was wearing it, wasn’t he? It would certainly make Julie happy, and that might make for a nice day! He relaxed and emptied his bladder into his diaper, and was somewhat surprised to notice that he was enjoying the sensation. Peeing was nice, and he had gotten used to the spreading warmth in his diaper. It didn’t really feel wet until later. Holy cow! There was a lot of pee this morning! That made sense—he was sure that was true most mornings, but this was the first time he’d peed into his diaper in the morning, so it was just more immediate to him. The diaper held it, but became extremely heavy and swollen. It pulled downward, which in turn pulled the onesie down. He could actually feel the fabric put some pressure on his shoulders. When he was done, he looked around for something to put on over his diaper/onesie combination, and found some loose fitting shorts. It was awkward to dress over such a full saggy diaper. He headed out to the kitchen, aware that he couldn’t even really walk normally with his diaper this wet. When Julie saw him waddling out into the kitchen, she stifled a laugh, enjoying his toddler-like appearance. She got up and went over to kiss him warmly, hoping her mirth did not show. After the kiss, she looked down and tugged on his shorts. “You can lose these, sweetie. You don’t need shorts with a onesie.” He was a little self-conscious, though. “I don’t mind. It feels funny not to wear pants.” “No, no,” she said. “That makes it harder to see when you need to be changed. Please take them off. You can leave them in the bedroom.” She pointed to her sons, obliviously wearing only their diapers and onesies. He sighed. “But—“ “Ah, ah,” she interrupted. “I don’t like that word. It makes me think you want to argue.” She was sort of smiling, and her eyes sparkled. She didn’t seem mad. She reached down and pulled down his shorts, letting them fall to the floor. Then she stood back up and looked him in the eye. “Do you want to argue?” Now there was a flash of a challenge in her face, though she still had a hint of of a smile on her face, as if she already knew the answer. He swallowed and shook his head. He did not like challenging her. “No, ma’am.” She smiled her radiant smile at him. How could she look so pretty first thing in the morning? It was simple–but not always easy–to make her happy. “What would you like for breakfast?” After returning his shorts to the bedroom, he joined the boys for some eggs, toast, and coffee. Julie noted his lack of pants with a nod of approval. He was very self-conscious of this, but the boys certainly did not notice, so he shrugged and sat down for breakfast. He did not enjoy the squishy feeling of sitting in such a wet diaper, but Julie was busy and he assumed she would attend to him when able. After last night, he wasn’t going to complain about not being changed immediately. Sure enough, after breakfast, Julie changed the boys. He cleaned up the dishes from breakfast and felt like he needed to move his bowels. That was more typical for him than the accident last night. But suddenly Julie was there, waving to him to join her in the bedroom. He knew he should probably mention something about moving his bowels, but didn’t want to bring it up. So he was changed quickly and was very happy to get into a dry diaper. She then tended to herself, closing and locking the bathroom door for a few minutes. He found himself alone in the bedroom, with an urgent need to poop. He knew it was useless to ask about the potty, so he filled his diaper, happy at least to have some privacy. His task finished, he realized he was sort of stuck. He didn’t want to interrupt Julie, but also didn’t want to sit down. He awkwardly stood outside the bathroom door, waiting for her. After a few moments, the door unlocked and opened, and he smiled at her bashfully. She looked at him, obviously wondering why he was waiting at the door, then gave a quick sniff. “Seems like you could use another change, my friend,” she observed while she readied her toothbrush. “Why don’t you brush your teeth and shave, and then we can take care of that?” Later, wiping his bottom for the second time in ten minutes, she asked, “So do you usually poop right away after breakfast?” He nodded. “Well, since I started taking those fiber pills every day, I do, anyway,” he said, somewhat annoyed. He gasped a little as she poked her wipe into his bottom. He still couldn’t get used to that. He had to remember to ask her if it was still necessary. But Julie was nodding. “It will make it easier, though, if your messy diapers are predictable,” she said. “It helps me plan. And I’m sure you don’t want surprises, right?” He had to agree with her there. Even worse than pooping in his diaper would be doing it at work. “We can work with that. But maybe we’ll wait to change your wet diaper tomorrow morning until after you’ve pooped. Diapers aren’t cheap.” She helped him off with his onesie, then went to wash her hands. “Why don’t you shower, then we’ll get you into a nice clean diaper and some grown-up clothes for the day?” He liked the sound of a shower. He did notice that Julie didn’t really leave the bathroom during his shower. Women take so much time getting ready! he thought, though he certainly did not express this. He enjoyed his shower and the feeling of being undiapered for a few minutes. He had finished washing his hair when he heard a knock on the translucent shower door and saw Julie nearby. He opened it a crack. “I noticed some stubble down there this morning. I left a razor in the shower if you want to take care of that.” “Sure,” he said, agreeably. At home he didn’t shave his diaper area every day, but he certainly could. If it kept Julie happy, he was all for it. The happier she was, the more likely he could find a time to make her listen to his concerns about not being allowed in her bathroom, or to change himself. When he was done, he found a fresh diaper waiting for him on the bed. He dried off, combed his hair, and applied some deodorant, but Julie still wasn’t around. Still naked, he poked his head out of the bedroom, aware that—in this house, anyway—he couldn’t really get dressed without his diaper. But she wasn’t in the hall. He could hear her talking to the boys in the family room. Again he was stuck with a dilemma. He didn’t want to bother or annoy her, but he felt foolish just hanging out naked. He decided to get dressed without the diaper, and just let her put it on him when she was ready. As it happened, Julie walked in as he was pulling on his pants. “Whoa, cowboy! Forgetting something?” she laughed. He let the pants drop and reddened. “No, of course not,” he said. “I just thought…” She pushed him gently to his back on the bed. “You thought what? That you’d put on your grown-up pants without a diaper? That is not a good idea in your condition.” His condition? he thought. “I can hold it for a while,” he protested. She powdered him and pulled the diaper between his legs. “Maybe, but we don’t know how long. If I’m not here when you come out, I’d like you to come find me before getting dressed.” “Naked?!” he asked. “Well, or with your shirt on. Or you could text me. How about that?” He nodded, then caught himself. “Yes, ma’am. I just don’t like to be dependent on you for everything.” She ducked into her bathroom to wash off her hands. He stood and resumed putting his pants on. She returned to the bedroom and patted his cheek. “Oh, sweetie, you aren’t. It’s no great shame that you aren’t an expert at changing diapers. Men traditionally aren’t,” she smiled, patting the front of his diaper. He was going to comment on that when Julie said, “And now I think we’ll be ready to hit the mall after lunch. Still up for it?” They had agreed to go shopping together today. They needed a few new things for the apartment, and the boys were growing out of their shoes. Together they got the little ones in their car seats, and headed to the mall, listening to a Sesame Street playlist Julie had prepared for the car. She was such a good mom, he thought. On the way, she said, “Maybe this trip would be a good time to work on staying dry. It won’t be as easy for me to change you when we’re out, you know. Can you focus on that, and we’ll see how you do?” He thought that made sense, and was eager for the challenge. He also secretly wanted to show Julie he could stay dry. They had fun at the mall. The boys were very good; Julie had a double stroller for them, though sometimes they liked to get out and walk. They stopped and had a drink in the food court. Not long afterward, they passed a family restroom, and Julie took the opportunity to check the boys’ diapers. Thomas was wet, but only a little. Andrew, however, needed a change. While they were in the restroom, he played with Thomas outside. Julie opened the door and beckoned him over. “How are you doing?” she asked in a low voice. “Still dry?” He considered. Honestly, he had forgotten. His brow wrinkled as he tried to remember if he had wet. Julie sighed a little and pulled him into the little bathroom. They got the stroller inside as well. “Let me just check.” Julie patted his diaper, and a look of concern crossed her face. She quickly undid his belt, unsnapped and unzipped him, and looked at the diaper. He looked down, too, trying to see. She did up his pants again, then stood, a grim look on her face. His hopes fell. “You don’t remember going, do you?” she asked, fixing his belt. Crestfallen, he shook his head, then remembered to say, “No, ma’am. Maybe after we stopped for drinks?” He was silent for a moment, considering. “That’s not good, is it?” While Julie was secretly quite pleased, she did not let her joy show on her face. She shook her head solemnly as they all tumbled out of the little bathroom. “No, it is certainly not good. Looks like you’re going to be in those diapers full-time for the foreseeable future, mister.” Chapter 19 That night Julie’s mother came over for dinner, as she apparently did every Sunday night. He was nervous, as this was the first time he was to meet her. Julie ordered take-out, which was the tradition. She didn’t like to cook on Sunday nights, and he went to pick it up. When he arrived home, Mrs. Davis was already there. She was on the sofa, playing with her grandsons, who were thrilled to see her. Julie had poured some wine for the adults and was setting the table. “So this is the famous doctor I have heard so much about,” her mother said warmly, standing. He walked over, carried dinner in one hand, and said, “It is so nice to finally meet you.” He extended his other to shake hers, but Mrs. Davis held open her arms. “Give me a hug.” She pulled him close for a moment, and he had an uncomfortable thought that maybe she’d be able to feel his diaper. Or hear it. Or even smell it—had he wet this one yet? But she gave no indication that anything was amiss, and her smile was truly warm and welcoming. He could see where Julie had inherited her charms. They got to know one another at the kitchen table over a few glasses of wine. Mrs. Davis had been a nurse, and had inspired Julie to do the same. She was sharp and funny, and he felt comfortable around her immediately. But he did have a little bit of unease as he wondered how much she had heard about him. He heard about Julie’s upbringing. Like all mothers, she had a few practiced stories about her daughter, which seemed designed to embarrass her, but Julie took it in stride. Mrs. Davis helped feed the boys, but attentively listened as he described his family in turn. Afterward, he cleared the table and did the dishes as Julie and her mother played with the boys in the family room. Mrs. Davis noticed and clearly approved of his cooperative spirit, and Julie beamed with pride. They shared a meaningful look as he disappeared into the kitchen. When he had finished that chore, he joined them on the sofa. But Thomas chose that moment to fill his diaper, grunted determinedly in front of the coffee table. “Uh-oh, looks like someone is going to need a change,” Mrs. Davis commented, smiling. When Thomas had finished, she took him by the hand. “I’ll take care of this one,” she said. “Thanks, Mom,” Julie said. When her mother had left the room, Julie said to him, “She loves you. Nice job with the dishes! You passed the test!” He smiled. “Whew! Hope it wasn’t that close.” Julie shook her head. “Of course not. I’ve told her all about you. She was thrilled with you almost before she met you.” That reminded him to ask how many details Julie had shared. But at that moment Mrs. Davis came back into the room, carrying her grandson. “And here we are again, smelling much nicer than before. Nothing like a clean diaper, right?” she asked the room. Julie nodded. “Everybody loves that. Thanks again, Mom.” Her mother brushed aside the comment. “Of course. You work so hard being a mom for this family. I’m happy to take a turn.” Julie stood and looked at him. “Actually, maybe it’s time for us to take a moment as well,” she said. He looked up at her, confused. She cocked an eyebrow expectantly. He blushed. She wanted to change his diaper. “Oh, sure, right,” he said, not having any idea how to cover their obviously intentional exit. “No problem,” Mrs. Davis said, smiling at them. “We’ll be okay for a few minutes. Take all the time you need.” In the bedroom, he lowered his pants and laid down obediently on the bed, but hissed, “Does she know?” Julie unconcernedly pulled off the diaper tapes. “Know what?” She pulled down the diaper, which he saw was quite wet, and ran a wipe over his front. He sighed with exasperation. “About this! About my diapers. Did you tell her?” Julie couldn’t help but notice that now he said “my” diapers. Cute. A good sign. “No, of course not. How would she know?” He breathed a sigh of relief. “I don’t know. It just seemed like it would have been obvious to her when you excused us out there. I mean, what else could we be doing?” Julie laughed as she wiped his bottom and found a dry diaper. “I don’t know. What do couples usually do in the bedroom?” she asked with a sparkle in her eye. He said, “Oh, sure, we just ducked into your bedroom to have sex for a minute.” Julie pulled the diaper between his legs and tightly taped it. “What we do behind closed doors is none of my mother’s business.” He stood and she patted him on his padded bottom. “You worry too much.” He pulled up his pants and refastened his belt. He felt better that Mrs. Davis didn’t know she changed his diaper. When they returned to the family room the boys were deeply engaged in playing a superhero story, with Mrs. Davis enjoying the show. She turned to them. “Everybody all set now?” she asked. “Now tell me: where did you go to medical school?” He wondered what she meant by that first question, but didn’t have time to dwell on that, as he was called on to answer the second. They had a good conversation. Mrs. Davis was genuinely interested in him, and seemed pleased with his answers. When the boys were put down to sleep, she excused herself as well. After Mrs. Davis had left, he cleaned up the kitchen. Drying his hands, he returned to the family room and saw Julie sewing. “You really are talented,” he said, hoping to keep the evening positive. He had hopes that tonight would end up happier than last night. Julie smiled, then leaned over and accepted a quick peck on the cheek. “Why, thank you, my love. Since you liked the first onesie, I’m making you a second one, for laundry days. What do you think?” The fabric was mixed blue and pink blocks. In truth, he had mixed feelings about these clothes. They had turned out to be quite comfortable to sleep in, and he liked that she was thinking of him enough to give him things. But he had come to the conclusion that they were more childish than he’d originally realized. There was a strong pattern in their relationship of Julie treating him like one of her young children. Individually these things—the diapers, the spankings, the onesies—seemed to make a little sense at the time, but collectively they were sort of hard to explain away. He realized he hadn’t answered. “Oh, really nice,” he said, thinking there would be time to talk about the child vs. man issue another time, once he’d gathered his thoughts. But he still felt like pushing back a little. “Hey, if you like the way these things look, why don’t you make yourself one? We could be like a whole onesie household?” He was curious how she would answer. She smiled. “Well, I like having a little easier access to what’s underneath, you know?” She raised her eyebrows at him. “And I bet you like having that access, too!” He caught her meaning and felt himself getting a little hard. How did she do that? She was so sexy, and that made it easier putting up with some of this stuff. She continued, “And of course, the snaps would make it harder for me to use the potty. That’s not an issue for you boys, so it just makes sense that if anyone gets to wear a onesie, it’s you. Boys have all the fun,” she said, shrugging. This seemed like the opportunity he was looking for to discuss the potty situation. He didn’t like how things were settling into a habit of him never using the potty—the bathroom, he corrected himself (Julie’s language was infectious!). He sat down next to her. Julie smiled a bit as she heard his diaper crinkle. “Can I ask you something?” he said. Still smiling, Julie laughed, “As long as it’s not about diapers. That’s settled, right?” Caught off guard, he stammered forward, “Well, I understand that I’ve been leaking sometimes, but…” “Wetting,” she corrected. She wrinkled her nose. “Leaking sounds like there is a problem with the diaper.” Not wanting to get bogged down in semantics, he nodded. “Ok, wetting. I understand that I’ve had some ‘wetting’ accidents, and that you want to protect your furniture. But I’ve never had any bowel issues, so I still don’t understand—“ Julie’s smile had vanished. She shook her head a little sadly as she looked at him. “You and your hang-up with pooping. What is it with you?” He paused to consider how to answer. How could she not see the difference? But she went right on, “I really don’t get it. It’s a natural bodily function. I’ve already told you: I don’t care, and changing you doesn’t bother me. I was hoping that once I’d proven that to you, you’d relax a bit. “And I’ve explained how much time it would take to undo your diaper and let you poop in the potty. It’s not about my personal preference: pooping in your diaper is just good time management.” He’d heard this before. But then why couldn’t he change himself? He clearly had a lot more diaper experience now; it couldn’t be that hard. “But—“ “Do NOT let another word out of your mouth if it is about diapers or pooping. I meant it when I said that issue is settled.” He considered quietly. “I can’t hear your manners.” He looked up and saw her eyes, fiery, and saw her lips pressed together. If he thought about it, he could still tell that his bottom was still a little sore from last night. “Yes, ma’am.” She relaxed a bit. “That’s my good boy. Why don’t you brush your teeth and bring me your onesie? It’s getting late.” He turned to obey. Julie was sweet almost all the time, but she didn’t like being questioned. The woman knew what she wanted! He’d have to think about how to approach this issue in the future. He didn’t want to test her now, but he wasn’t willing to give up his bathroom privileges forever. When he had been to Julie’s bathroom to brush, and found his onesie, he found her in the bedroom getting out a clean diaper. He set the onesie on the bed, and taking her cue, pulled off his pants and laid down on the bed. She attended to him efficiently, and though he was looking forward to some special fun during his bedtime diapering, he found himself rediapered and snapped into his onesie before he could protest. He read a little while Julie readied herself for bed. When she came to bed, she seemed a little quiet. He rubbed her neck a little until she turned to him. “How about taking advantage of that ‘easy access’?” he asked, smiling. That put a little smile on her face, and he happily ducked below the sheets. Julie was not hard to pleasure, and he took some delight in his ability to make her happy so quickly. He could feel himself stiffening inside his tight diaper during the process. When he reappeared above the sheets, Julie seemed more relaxed. She leaned over and kissed him sweetly on the cheek. “Thanks, baby. I needed that.” With that, she fell back against her pillow. He waited a moment, expectantly. When she didn’t make another move toward him, he frowned and scooted closer to her. But…she was breathing deeply like…she was asleep! He could feel himself under his diaper, hard and ready, but now had nothing to do about that. He lay back on his own pillow, and tried to rub himself through the diaper. It felt nice, but not nice enough. He wondered what Julie would do if she found dried cum inside his diaper. Would she mind? Would she notice? He noticed with disappointment that his onesie kept him from getting a hand down his diaper. He could unsnap it, but that might be loud enough to wake Julie. He tried to reach through the side, but Julie had apparently taped the diaper on quite tightly. And the onesie almost seemed designed to be tight around the sides as well, so he could barely get a finger in. Not enough to help, that was for sure. Briefly he considered getting up and going somewhere to attack this more effectively. But where? Because he wasn’t allowed in her bathroom, there was nowhere that could be completely private. He could sneak into the family room, but that seemed creepy with the kids in the apartment, and what if he woke Julie getting out of bed? What possible excuse could he have for not being in bed? Frustrated, he sighed heavily and tried to think of something else. He couldn’t believe Julie had forgotten his needs. It was a long time before he got sleepy and was able to rest. Julie, who was only pretending to sleep, heard him quiet down. She smiled. He had passed the test, though she had certainly made it difficult to do anything else. Her huffy mood earlier had been a bit of an act, designed to excuse her not being “in the mood”. And she had carefully diapered him tightly to make sure he wasn’t overly tempted. She didn’t think he would be crazy enough to untape his diaper tonight and take matters into his own hands. She had specifically emphasized her feelings about his touching his diaper in the past, and she had even told him not to unsnap his onesie. After having spanked him just last night, she had felt sure he would be good. Maybe he was starting to realize the best feature of his onesie, but if he hadn’t yet, he’d certainly notice soon enough. They were designed to cover his diaper, sure, and they made him look adorably infantile, which she enjoyed. But their true virtue was keeping his big boy hands away from himself. She knew he’d surely spent a lot of time pleasuring himself in the past, and she wanted that to change. She smiled as she thought about how he’d respond to her sexual control. They were together at work and at home, and there wasn’t anywhere he could go to be alone. Now that he was in a diaper all the time, which he was not to touch, the onesie might be overkill. But, she smiled to herself, it was still a nice touch. She didn’t want him afraid of her, exactly, but a healthy dose of respect for her discipline was necessary. He needed to know what she felt strongly about, and she was sure she hadn’t left any doubt. They hadn’t talked specifically about masturbation, so she was curious what he would do when given a tiny opportunity. He was a guy in his sexual prime, and so she was sure he was tempted. But he was also submissive, whether he knew it or not. She became surer as each day passed. As confident and decisive as he was in the office, he was deferential and meek at home. And it wasn’t that he was that frightened of her. She was seeing signs—little expressions, big erections—that told her that he was growing to like his position in the relationship. After all, he knew she called the shots, that he would be diapered 24/7 in her house, that she would spank him when she wanted, and yet he still jumped at the chance of moving in with her. Now, as she considered, it was she who felt like pleasuring herself to a second orgasm before she drifted off to sleep. But she could control herself without padding and tape. She would have plenty of opportunities in the future. Chapter 20 The next morning was much more rushed, as he and Julie had work. It generally followed the same pattern as the previous morning, though. He awoke and found Julie already up. He peed and waddled out to the kitchen in just his onesie. They all ate a quick breakfast, then Julie parked the boys in the family room with their toys and dashed to the bathroom. He cleaned up the kitchen and found it necessary to move his bowels before he was done. He finished up and carefully walked into the bedroom to await Julie’s help. He picked out some clothes while he was waiting. She opened the bathroom door, and called, “Ready to be changed?” He realized Julie was specifically asking if he had pooped yet, and he blushed a little. But he called back in the affirmative, and she came out in her underwear and bra, hair wrapped in a towel. She looked great, and he could tell that his horniness was cranked up by not having come the night before. However, the romance of the moment was tempered by the task at hand. She changed his messy, wet diaper, and sent him off to the shower with a pat on the bottom. She finished her makeup and dressed while he showered and shaved. As Julie finished powdering and diapering him, they could hear Julie’s mom arriving to take care of the boys. Julie hurriedly brushed the powder off her hands and set to gathering her work clothes. He finished dressing and emerged from the bedroom. Mrs. Davis was in the boys’ bedroom, apparently changing them into dry diapers. Julie yelled into him from the kitchen, “Sweetie, can you grab three of your diapers for my work bag, please? I’m out.” He turned to obey, then froze. Two things immediately occurred to him. First, there was no way that Mrs. Davis didn’t hear that. Second, that he needed to answer her, and by doing so, he would confirm their relationship status and agree that he used diapers. He could stay silent, but then he risked angering Julie. He wondered for a split-second whether she would spank him in front of her mother. But if she hadn’t kept his diapers a secret, why would she care about the spankings? Crap. “Yes, ma’am!” he yelled back, trying to sound playful but not mocking. He hoped making his response sound like a game to Mrs. Davis would cover some of the embarrassment he felt calling her “ma’am” around others. But for God’s sake, how could he pass off her reference to his diapers?! He felt his cheeks burn. Julie had said she hadn’t told her mom about his diapers. But was this just a slip? Or did Mrs. Davis already know? She seemed to know something the other night… But there was no time to wonder. Julie’s urgent voice broke through his thoughts. “Baby, let’s go. We’re going to be late!” He picked out three of his diapers and headed out to the kitchen. He held them out to Julie, who was tucking his sippy cup into her bag. He realized, staring at the bright blue and pink patterns, that Julie had begun bringing a diaper bag to work. When had that happened? “Did you change bags?” he asked, trying to sound casual. She smiled grimly. “Yeah, do you think it’s too obvious? Sorry, but with all of your…supplies, I needed something bigger. It is the perfect size! I’m sure no one will notice.” He wasn’t at all sure. But before he could say anything, Mrs. Davis and the boys entered the kitchen. Julie was tucking the diapers into the main compartment of the diaper bag as her mother, apparently referring to the bag, commented, “You were right, Julie. Perfect size.” Julie quickly cleared her throat. “Okay, guys, have a great day and be good for Grandma. I’ll be home–we’ll be home,” she corrected herself, smiling at him, “before supper.” “Okay, Mommy!” “Bye!” “Bye,” he called weakly. He grabbed his own bag, trying not to look Mrs. Davis in the eye. He felt like she was staring at him, though. Blushing, he picked up his coffee and fled outside. In the car, angry overtook his embarrassment. “What was that?? You told me your mom didn’t know!” In the passenger seat next to him, Julie sighed. “I know, I’m sorry,” she said. “She didn’t, but somehow she figured it out when you were over for dinner. She asked me about it the next day, so I told her you had some bladder issues.” He reddened further. “So, she thinks I’m incontinent?” “Yes, I thought that was the most reasonable explanation. She’s older. It made sense to her.” She reached over to pat his thigh. “Look, it was bound to happen at some point. We tell each other everything. She’s fine with it, of course. I told her it is a medical thing.” He took a deep breath, trying to calm himself. “But you yelled it out this morning so she could hear.” His eyes felt full. Julie was looking out the window as they pulled up to a light that had turned red. “Well, look, there’s no point dancing around it, is there? She’s at the apartment a lot. It’s a fact of life, and she’s part of the family. But I should have told you. I’m sorry about that.” He swallowed, blinking back the tears as the light changed. He’d gotten over some of his embarrassment of the diapers around Julie, but around her mother, too? Julie went on. “I mean, she’s going to notice when we disappear to change you. She’ll see your diapers if she goes into our room. And I don’t see what the point of pretending is. Actually,” she said. “I could imagine she might be helpful in a pinch.” His eyes jerked toward her involuntarily at this. “What? What do you mean, ‘helpful’?” he said, alarmed. She looked over at him, and, seeing his concern, tried to soothe him. “I don’t mean I’ll ask her to change you routinely, unless we can’t avoid it. It’s just nice to have the option of some help. You know, like if I’m at an appointment, or sick or something.” Even as he pulled into the office parking lot, he could feel himself start to sweat. This was not something he’d imagined ever discussing. Julie was already getting out of the car. “We can talk about it later, Sweetie. We’re a bit late now.” He sat for a minute, watching her leave the car. He snapped out of it as he saw a patient arriving and approaching the office as well. He had to move now. But, Jesus, Julie’s mom? He took a breath and shifted to focus on the day. Despite this distraction, the day went well. Once he clicked into work mode, he felt extra energetic today, and used that energy to make sure her day went well. He definitely didn’t want her to be exhausted by the end of the day. He had an investment in making her happy. His quality of life, in general, just like every other man in a relationship, depended on his partner being pleased with him. He wanted to make sure she wasn’t too tired that evening for sex. Two nights in a row would be a disaster! In fact, his mind was clearly preoccupied with her. His penis sprang to life each time she changed him during the day, and Julie noticed. She wondered a little about it, but mostly, it was amusing to her. They finished and headed home a little early for Monday. It was amazing how efficient they were when they were united in their work. As they arrived home, Mrs. Davis was just packing up. “How were the little monsters?” Julie called. The boys gave a yell and came running to hug their mommy. Mrs. Davis smiled tiredly. “Oh, they aren’t monsters. They are the best little grandsons in the world.” Julie raised her eyebrows. “You haven’t seen them at bedtime recently. Your grandsons can resemble wild animals at times.” But Mrs. Davis just shook her head. “Not my boys. I love taking care of them.” She picked up her purse and headed for the door. She smiled at him on her way. “And speaking of boys, it’s nice to see a big boy around the house these days.” Julie smiled fondly at him as well. “I’ll say. Never thought I’d want MORE boys around here, but he is definitely a good addition to the crew. Thanks again, Mom.” “Any time, my girl. Have a good night!” As the door closed behind her, his thoughts were drawn back to their conversation this morning. Julie wouldn’t make him let Mrs. Davis change him, would she? He couldn’t forget to discuss that sometime. While Julie made supper, he played with the boys. They liked running over and tackling him, and he loved their laughs. In bed that night, Julie untaped his diaper and started stroking him gently. He fought his excitement, which built much more rapidly than he had expected. Worried that he would come before they’d even completed the foreplay, he extricated himself from her ministrations to pleasure her. Afterward, to his relief, Julie did not fall asleep. As he returned up to lie next to her, she purred, “I bet you’re ready to go!” She reached down and found this to be true. Their lovemaking was quick, but passionate, and his orgasm was amazing. Julie noticed. Afterward, as she re-diapered him for the night, she said, smiling, “I’ve never heard you so loud. And long—I think yours was almost twice as long as mine.” He was still panting a little, and had to chuckle. “I guess you’re right. I…” he paused as he thought about what he wanted to say. He didn’t want to sound annoyed at her for falling asleep last night, but being frustrated had probably played into why things were so desperate tonight. “I think with the way things ended up last night might have had something to do with that. I was really horny all day.” She laughed and fell back into bed. “Oh, I noticed. Every time I had your diaper off, it felt like you were propositioning me.” She was quiet for a moment. Not a bad time to talk more about it. “Did you like feeling that way?” He let out a grunt. “Hardly. Are you kidding? I’m a guy. I think most of us like coming as often as we can.” Julie propped herself up on her elbow. “Yeah, but tonight seemed way better for you. That’s not worth sometimes waiting a little to have it build up?” He looked at her. She did not look sleepy. She seemed very interested in this discussion. He probably should have taken that as a warning, but he was feeling sleepy post-sex. “Nah—I mean, no, ma’am. I’ll take quantity over quality any day.” He closed his eyes. “Hmm. I’m not convinced,” Julie said thoughtfully. She poked him in the side with her finger to keep him awake. His eyes opened. “I noticed that you were really, really helpful today with the housework and the boys. Almost like you thought it could help your chances tonight.” He laughed again. “Can’t blame a guy for trying.” He looked up at her. “Did it?” She smiled. “You bet. If I’m not so tired, you definitely have a better chance to get lucky. So keep it up, mister helpful.” He nodded. “No problem. I certainly don’t mind.” His eyes closed again. This time Julie did not poke him awake. “Interesting…” she murmured, as she watched him breathing quietly. The next night, Andrew threw up after supper. Between caring for him and worrying about what could be wrong and if his brother would also get sick, Julie was preoccupied. So he wasn’t surprised when it wasn’t a sex night. He didn’t complain. He understood that would be insensitive. Plus, after their talk the night before, he knew Julie understood what he wanted. She would have accommodated him if she could, and he thought she probably would the next night. So he went to sleep unsatisfied, but not really frustrated. Andrew actually seemed fine the next day, though Julie told her mom about the incident and called her several times during the day over the phone to check on him. But he still seemed like himself by the time they got home that evening, and no one else got sick, so Julie relaxed a little. As she was distracted, he took over some of the chores around the house. He also gave her a little massage once they were in bed, hoping she was feeling good enough to be intimate before they fell asleep. She was. She turned over as he was rubbing her shoulders, and he found himself sitting on her with his hands over her breasts. This was a welcome development, and she undressed him. He again exploded into her fairly quickly but vigorously, and Julie noted again how much more attentive he’d been during the day and evening. This was not something she could ignore. As luck would have it, Julie got her period after supper the next night. He didn’t know until after he had helped all day and massaged her that evening. Julie sighed, and patted his chest. “Sorry, baby. We’ve got to take a little vacation for a few days. I’m out of commission.” He stared at her for a moment, not understanding. She stared back. “My period, sweetie. No sex. You have to keep it in your pants,” she said helpfully. Then she glanced down at his crotch. “Well, in your diaper.” He was startled. He hadn’t had a close relationship that could be disrupted by such things. “Oh, of course,” he said. He didn’t want to appear selfish. “So…you…do you feel okay and everything?” She laughed. “Of course. It’s just a little gross to think about sex.” She put her hand to his cheek. “Are you going to be okay with that?” He nodded bravely. “Oh, sure,” before he followed it up with, “So…how long do your periods last?” She shrugged. “Four or five days. It varies.” She watched his face carefully to see what he thought of that. He repeated her words, letting them sink in. “Four or five days…um, sure,” he said uncertainly. Since he was a young teenager, he had never gone without orgasm for that long. He honestly wasn’t sure if he could. And she had him locked away, so to speak. So he was already wondering what he’d need to do. “Mm-hm,” she said, cuddling closer. “But I was thinking,” she said, stroking his chest. He hardened under his diaper. Maybe she was going to help him get some relief! He loved Julie. Of course she wouldn’t make him wait that long. “That as nice as you are after you haven’t had sex for just one day, it might be interesting to see just how nice you are while you wait for me. I’m kind of excited to find out.” “Wait for you,” he murmured. She couldn’t be serious. That sounded terrible. But how could he say that without sounding like a jerk? Of course she wouldn’t have sex either. But he wasn’t sure it felt the same to women as it did to men. “Right,” she said, nodding. “Are you man enough to find out?” Not that you have any choice, she thought to herself. But she wanted him to be on board with this experiment. “Um,” he said, trying to think quickly. “It just seems like a long time.” That didn’t sound nice, did it? He cleared his throat and tried to look at her, though her head was on his shoulder and this was hard. “I mean, a man has impulses. It can be hard—I mean, difficult—to ignore those. I want to be honest with you. I don’t know if I can do that.” “Oh,” she purred. “I’m sure you can. And if you’re good, I can help in certain ways.” Her finger traced his nipples, tickling him. THAT sounded good. Though he wondered what exactly she meant, he wasn’t going to turn that down. “Then you’ve got a deal!” She nodded, smiling. She led her finger down his chest to his belly button. “I know you can be a good boy. You’ll make me so happy,” she whispered. His breathing quickened as he felt her finger drop further. It now ran along the edge of his diaper, playing with the little ruffle above the tapes. And then her voice, “Be a good boy. Sleep well.” And then the finger disappeared, and he felt Julie turn over in bed. “See you in the morning.” By now he could feel his penis throbbing under his diaper. She’d done it to him again. This time he was pretty sure it was intentional. She was good at that! But she seemed to be promising that tomorrow might be different. He groaned and rolled toward her, spooning her to make sure she felt his hardness against her. He couldn’t see her, but she was grinning widely as she went to sleep. This might be her best idea yet. Chapter 21 He worked hard making her happy all day. It helped that he seemed to have endless energy. It surprised him a bit, as he hadn’t thought he’d slept that well after her blatant bedtime teasing. But he felt like he wanted to go out of his way to make Julie happy, and her smiles through the day seemed to confirm that he was doing a good job. It was tough not asking for her to touch him more than usual as she changed his diaper through the day. But each time, after cleaning and powdering him, she would pat his penis fondly, and say to him, “You put that away for now. Maybe later tonight.” After their work was done, Julie came up behind him and cupped his diaper in the front. “Hmm,” she observed grimly. “You are very wet, aren’t you?” He looked down. He honestly hadn’t noticed it was any different than most days. “I guess. Did you want to change it?” Julie powered down her computer and shook her head. “Sadly, no. We’re out of diapers. You’ll have to wait until you get home. Think you can wait?” He collected his things. “I guess so. I mean, I don’t have much choice, right?” She put her coat on and patted his cheek fondly. “No, silly, I mean, does your bladder feel full? I don’t know if that diaper will survive another flooding.” He paused. “Oh. Well, I mean, I could go, but I’m sure I can hold it. It’s a short trip.” He donned his coat and picked up his laptop bag. She regarded him for a moment, pondering. “Yes, but I think we should take an extra precaution, just in case.” She found a blue disposable waterproof pad and brought it along to the car, handing it to him when they got there. “Put this on your seat, please.” He stared at it. “Seriously? I’m sure I don’t need that,” he said dismissively. “Maybe,” she admitted, climbing in. “But I’d appreciate it if you’d put it down anyway.” He shook his head. Julie had a hard time not mothering him. But it wasn’t worth fighting about. Mrs. Davis and the boys were nowhere to be seen, but they could hear Andrew’s little voice explaining something earnestly from the bedroom area. As he and Julie put their things away, The boys and Mrs. Davis, chattering, entered the kitchen. “Hi, guys, we’re all dry and clean,” she said, smiling. Julie smiled back, then glanced at him. “Must be nice. We will be soon, I’m sure.” Then she seemed to notice his surprised expression. Did Julie just tell her mom that his diaper was wet?? To his horror, Mrs. Davis reached over and patted his diapered rear end, feeling the weight of his wet padding. “Wow. Well, I’m still in changing mode if you need a hand,” she said to Julie. He froze. Mrs. Davis wasn’t speaking to him, wasn’t looking at him. Only at Julie. It was…like he was a toddler! Julie paused and appeared to be considering. To his relief, however, she shook her head. “No, Mom, that’s okay.” She handed her mother her purse and coat. “I appreciate the offer, you’ve had a full day. I can take care of it. I’m sure you’re ready to get home.” Her mother nodded. “Of course. Just wanted to make sure you knew I don’t mind.” Julie smiled. “I know, and I’m grateful for the offer. But we’re not quite ready for that yet. Maybe down the road.” “Oh, of course. But it would not be any trouble. I’ve been changing diapers for a long time.” “Yes, you are a pro. Thanks again, Mom. Have a wonderful night.” He breathed a sigh of relief as the door closed behind Mrs. Davis. Julie had saved him, though she hadn’t exactly shut down the idea completely. “Julie, I’m REALLY not comfortable with your mom, you know…” he told her at supper. She was cutting little chunks of chicken for the boys, and nodded. “I know. Don’t worry. I told you–only if we have to.” He took a breath. “But–look, I know you like to be the one to change me.” Julie looked up with a bit of a warning expression, as if she didn’t want to talk about that topic. “And–and–I get that you are better at it than I would be. Although, well, we’ve never tried, so how would we know?” he said quickly, then rushed on. This wasn’t his main point and he didn’t want to get bogged down. “But that’s fine. I obviously love it when you change me and I know you’re in charge of that.” He took another breath. Andrew was feeding himself the chicken chunks. Thomas had asked to be excused and was playing with a truck next to the table. “But in an emergency, it seems like I could handle my own diapers, right? Why would you ever want your mother to help? Because I don’t want her to help!” Julie seemed a little affronted. “What’s wrong with my mother? Did something happen between you two?” He sighed. “No, of course not. It’s just that it would be so embarrassing to have someone else, you know, see me and touch me that way.” He couldn’t believe he had to explain this. Andrew was done, and Julie got up to wash his face. He’d managed to get mashed potatoes on both cheeks and his chin. “I know, but I’m sure she’d be better at it than you would. If she is here, and she could do it better, why wouldn’t we have her do it?” She efficiently wiped the food off Andrew’s face, which he tolerated. Then she helped him down from his booster seat. He ran into the living room, and Thomas took the truck and followed. “I feel like this goes back to you being unnecessarily embarrassed about basic bodily functions.” He sputtered, “But–listen, I’m an adult, and–” Julie interrupted, her voice hardening perceptibly. “…Who wears diapers and needs some help with them. My mother changed my diapers when I needed it. She can change yours, too.” As his cheeks reddened, imagining the humiliation, Julie softened and, standing above him, touched his cheek. “Listen, I’ve already told you that I won’t ask her to change you unless it is really necessary. But if it does, you will agree and you won’t give her any trouble.” She brought his chin up so they were looking into each other’s eyes. “Tell me you understand me.” He swallowed hard, trying to think of an argument that would sway her. But he could see she had made up her mind, and he no longer had that chance. “Sweetie, do you trust me?” He sighed. “Yes, ma’am.” “Then tell me you accept the fact that there could come a time when my mom could have to change your diaper.” He paused. But what could he say? He was also, in the back of his mind, thinking that he wanted her in a good mood for later. Julie had suggested they could have some play time later, and although he knew he wouldn’t come, he was curious what she had up her sleeve. “Yes, ma’am, okay.” Julie smiled. “That’s my good boy. Time to clean up dinner, if you wouldn’t mind.” She headed into the living room to supervise her sons. He cleared the table thoughtfully, coming to terms with the apparent diaper-changing hierarchy in the home. Julie really felt like he shouldn’t ever change his own diaper. He didn’t understand why, and wasn’t even allowed to help make the decision. It left him feeling powerless and small. But he had learned to trust Julie, and he wondered whether he could trust her enough here, too. At bedtime tonight she changed him for the last time up near the head of the bed, which was unusual. She patted his side of the bed, and he laid down where she indicated. She changed and cleaned him, then asked, “Up for a little fun?” She was being funny, he realized. He was hard as a nail the moment she untaped the diaper. “Yes, ma’am!” he cheerfully replied. “I love your manners, mister,” she cooed as she opened the closet and pulled out a duffle bag he had not ever noticed before. “They will get you far in this life. Or at least in this bed.” She pulled out some scarves. His brow wrinkled. Scarves? He was woefully uninformed, Julie saw, and it made her smile at him. “Trust me?” she said. “…Yes?” he said back, looking at the scarves with confusion. Julie tied his hands to her headboard. He smiled once he saw what she was doing. This could be very fun, he thought. She did not tie his feet, and as soon as his hands were immobilized, she unsnapped his onesie and undiapered him. “Time for some fun, baby,” she said, as she positioned herself down near his waist. He was fully erect, his penis bobbing in the air expectantly. Julie addressed it next. “Sorry I’ve been so distant, my little friend.” Her fingers lightly touched it and he flinched, sending it away from them. This amused her, so she repeated the game several times. His breathing was already becoming heavy, she noted with amusement. She would have to be very careful. She tickled his balls, and the bare skin around his member. He was extremely sensitive, making her wonder what several days of abstaining would do to him. She smiled. This was going to be a fun week. When his breathing had evened, she extended her tongue and tickled him all over again. When he seemed to be getting close, she backed off again. Eventually, she was able to use her full hand, pushing him closer and closer to the edge, then slowing down. He was sweating, and his arms started to pull hard on the scarves. She was driving him crazy. No one had ever treated him like this before. It was so hot. He had never imagined himself at the mercy of a woman who was in control and yet who delayed his orgasm so expertly. How did Julie do it? Of course, Julie didn’t know his body that well at this point, so she couldn’t be sure. She erred on the side of caution, backing down sooner than she otherwise might, knowing she would have lots of chances to refine her technique in the future. After twenty-five minutes of playing with him, she took him in her mouth and delicately teased him orally, carefully watching his face, listening to his breathing, and feeling his muscle tone. Eventually she came up to his face. “Enjoying yourself?” she purred. Nearly exhausted, he said, “More than you can imagine.” She laughed. “I’m so happy. Remember you said that in about two minutes.” She jumped up and left the room. He was baffled. Where had she gone? He felt a little silly tied up all by himself. But she returned a moment later carrying a towel. She approached him and laid the towel over him. He smiled. What was next?! The towel seemed like a reasonable precaution if she didn’t want mess all over her bed. He thought that the night’s activities might be ending soon. And he was right, though not in the way he’d hoped. Out came a bag of frozen peas, which went on top of the towel. He looked up at her, again questioning her. She explained, “I’ll never get you back in that diaper without some help. But I thought the peas were cruel without a towel.” She left the room again, entering her bathroom. The toilet flushed and then she returned. Julie checked under the towel. He had softened considerably. She grabbed a diaper and expertly tucked him away for the night, returning the vegetables to the freezer and tossing the towel in the laundry. When she joined him in bed, she reached for the scarves. His face was full of confusion. “But…” She looked at him. He couldn’t finish his sentence. He was heartbroken, but didn’t want to complain. Maybe there was still a chance he could come? It didn’t look good, but… Julie said, “Oh, sweetie, you were never going to come tonight. It’s too soon. But I wanted you to have some fun. And you did, right?” She tucked the scarves into the duffel bag and took it to the closet. He was speechless. “Kind of…” he trailed off. When she turned to face him, her eyebrows raised, he stammered, “Well, yes. It was amazing. I just thought…” She closed the closet door and came back and sat next to him on the bed. “Baby, we’re going to try something this week. You are a wonderful man, but I’ve noticed that, like most men, you are limited by your hormones.” He stared down at her hands. A few moments ago, those hands were doing wonderfully sensuous things to him. He just wanted to get back to that moment! She reached up to his chin, pulling his eyes up to meet hers. He was preoccupied but she wanted him following along with her now. “It turns out,” she explained, “that when you don’t have sex, you become even more considerate than usual. And helpful. Were you aware of that?” Seriously? He was surprised to hear this. “I try to be…that way…all the time. I didn’t realize you were unhappy—“ She cut him off, placing her finger on his lips. “Shhh. No, no, I didn’t mean you weren’t a good partner every day. You are. But something interesting happens when you haven’t had sex. You seem much more connected to me emotionally. I wasn’t sure at first if I was imagining it, but it is clearly true. And if you weren’t even aware of it, then that tells me that this…phenomenon… is not just something you are trying to do when you’re desperate.” She sat back. “Actually, when I look back to other relationships, it might have been true then as well. So maybe it’s all men.” She shook her head a little. “Honestly, I wish I’d noticed this earlier in life. Could’ve been verrrrrry helpful.” Julie turned back to him. “But the point is, I need you to explore this with me.” He frowned. “What do you mean? Explore what? It sort of sounds like you don’t want to have sex with me.” She shook her head and laughed. “No, that’s not right. I love having sex with you. But there might be a balance that would be good for us. And I’d like to see what that looks like.” “A balance? Between what?” She pursed her lips and stared at him hard. “Between you coming every night and you never coming at all. If you come every day, you are a little happy really often, but we might not get as much out of our relationship as we could. I would have to work harder around here, and might resent you not contributing as much.” He looked concerned, then smiled a little. “Well, part of that sounded pretty good…what if I just tried harder around the apartment?” Julie patted him on the cheek, giving him a wry smile. “I bet that sounds good to you. But not as good as it could be. If you come only some of the time, your pleasure will be greater when you do come—right?—and in the meantime life will be better for me. And when you don’t come, maybe we can have fun like we did tonight.” He sat there, pondering her words. She gave him a moment to think about this. “Now, I care for you a lot, and I want you to enjoy sex as much as I do. But I also want what’s best for us together, and I think we owe it to ourselves to see if that could work. So this week, while I’m out of action, you’re going to be out of action as well.” He looked at her, alarmed. “Like, all week? I don’t–” Julie laughed, then mocked him playfully. “Yes, all week. I mean, I have to wait, right? Are you telling me you aren’t as tough as a girl?” He swallowed. “Well, I’ve never—I mean, I think it’s harder for me than for you. I’m not used to that at all.” She nodded. “Oh, I’m sure,” she said, with what might have been mock seriousness. “But I’ll make it fun for you. I mean, since it’s better for me if you wait, I’m willing to help you hold out.” “Oh, man. I don’t know if that helped me wait or not. I can’t think about anything but you right now.” Julie giggled and snuggled next to him. “Perfect. I want you thinking of me. And I don’t want you neglected, just a little…frustrated.” He smiled slightly, but…this seemed like asking a lot. “Wouldn’t just be easier—I mean, for you—if I…took matters into my own hands this week, and we could try skipping a day or two next week?” Julie sat straight up. “No, no. NO. Easier for YOU maybe, but not for me. It turns out that I love seeing you when you are a little desperate, and I do NOT want you playing with your little thing.” She again made him look her in the eyes. “Please tell me you understand. No jerking off. This is very important to me.” He looked down. It was very clear what Julie wanted. And he had learned that what she wanted, she always got. If there were more nights like this, it could be fun. He might even get to see what else was in that duffel bag. He looked into her eyes. “Yes, ma’am. I understand.” She beamed. “That’s my good boy. You’ll see that good things come to those who wait,” she said suggestively, and patted the front of his diaper. She felt him twitch inside, and she liked it. “Now let’s get some sleep.” Chapter 22 That week was difficult. From that night onward, he couldn’t think of anything except Julie. Having sex with Julie, have Julie play with him some more, doing all sorts of things to her. But he was taped up tightly inside of his diaper, and he couldn’t touch himself. He wasn’t really ever out of her presence for more than a few moments. She seemed to be around him almost all the time. Even when he showered, she was in the bathroom just on the other side of the frosted glass of the shower. He couldn’t jerk off if he wanted to. And he wanted to. Kind of. But it was also undeniably fun to go through the week with Julie teasing and taunting him. During the day she would pat his diaper and make double entendres that her sons could not possibly catch. And at bedtime, the scarves came out. She didn’t use other toys, but she did use some kind of slippery liquid, and drive him nearly crazy. She would push him to the brink, then back off, then repeat. He would be sweating within minutes, but could not do anything about it. He had no idea how she knew how to get him that close. He got so crazy that he tried to thrust into her hand. She would laugh and move her hand just out of the way. She seemed heartless, except that it obviously took a lot of time and effort for her. And it wasn’t like she was getting any relief either. He tried to remember that. Every day, he had difficulty thinking of anything other than Julie and her torture sessions. He hated them, but wanted them at the same time. He had nothing he could do with his energy. It was such a weird feeling to be so wound up without the ability to do anything about it. Every comment, every look was charged with sexual tension. Julie could see it in his eyes, and was smiling at him constantly, which, in turn, drove him even crazier. He tried to keep himself busy. When he could, he would clean their apartment. When she would let him, he would rub her feet or shoulders. Her touch became electric to him, somehow, and this was a form of magic he could not understand. Was it really hormonal? Maybe she knew things about the human body that he, as a doctor, did not. Regardless, he longed to have her near, maybe more than usual. He was conflicted about whether he thought this experiment was something he wanted to continue. At times he felt like he was flying, but he longed almost constantly to come. Or for her to touch him. Both? He wasn’t even sure anymore—his feelings and wants and needs were muddled together into a complex knot of energy. On Saturday night, she changed his diaper, then tied him to the bed as before. She untaped and pulled down his diaper. Then she lightly stroked him until he was hard and starting to breathe faster. But then she disappeared into the bathroom. He heard the shower start. Seriously? NOW she showered, while he couldn’t move? He passed the time thinking of how good things were going to be once her period was finished. He imagined taking her over the bed, or in the kitchen, or on the sofa. Not that any of that would likely happen, as Julie had definite preferences and usually liked to be in control. But he could still imagine what it would be like to be the one who decided when and how they had sex. But when she was in control, that was incredibly sexy too, wasn’t it? He pictured her smile when she signaled it was time to fool around. He felt her hands on his diaper. Now, the simple act of untaping his diaper made him hard. He had never been on the bottom during sex before he met Julie, and since then he had never been on top. That was odd, he supposed, but he had grown to love looking up at her, her face lost in pleasure, her breasts dangling freely. The way she ground her pelvis against his, used him for her pleasure. That was so hot. If only he could touch himself right now! Suddenly the door to her bathroom opened, and Julie emerged, wearing lingerie he had not seen before. A soft pink babydoll nightie hung from her slim body, and her face showed that she knew the effect it would have on him. She glanced down at his penis, still hard, and saw it twitch hungrily. She smiled, retrieved something from the duffel bag and sat next to him on the bed. He strained at the scarves, trying to touch her with any part of his body. Suddenly she produced a blindfold and fastened it around his eyes, and all light disappeared. He immediately became aware of how she smelled, clean with soap, and a familiar, reassuring scent that made him feel close to her. He realized a moment later that he was smelling baby powder, which smelled a little different on her. He didn’t stop to think that by now, after so many weeks of use while she changed him, that it was a smell that excited him. She stroked his cheek, then ran her fingertips along his ears, tickling him deliberately. Tied and blind, he was forced to wait to see what was next. His skin felt electric, as every part of him wanted her touch. She drew her fingers down his neck, then trailed them across his chest to his nipples, which she was happy to see were hard. His sharp intake of air told her they were also sensitive. The week of chastity had apparently charged his body with an insane amount of energy. This was better than she had hoped for. Whether or not he wanted to repeat this experiment, she thought, didn’t really matter. She would now be controlling his orgasm frequency. But she thought she could probably convince him it was a good idea over the next few minutes. She pinched his nipples gently, eliciting gasps. She leaned down and touched one with her tongue. His body became rigid. She played it back and forth and he didn’t move a muscle. She nibbled it a little and she felt him squirm, then buck a bit as she started to suck. He had no idea his nipples could feel like that. It was mostly like tickling, and they were so sensitive. He couldn’t move out of the way, and had to wait for her to tire of it. Finally she relented, leaving him panting. His erection had softened, but stiffened again as he felt her hands play down his abdomen. His skin tightened and relaxed under her touch. As her soft fingers approached his waist, his body became more and more tense. Without realizing it, his breathing had quickened. She noticed, however. She also noticed the clear liquid forming at the tip of his hard penis. She smiled. Bending over, so her mouth was next to his ear, she whispered, “Why are you so sensitive, my love? I’ve never seen you like this.” Her fingers danced around his lower abdomen. Nearly panting now, he croaked, “It’s been so long.” He was waiting for her hand to move closer to his throbbing penis. But instead it stroked upward again, right to his belly button. He gasped. “Oh, please, Julie!” She laughed. “Oh, begging? Wow. I have got you worked up. This is special.” As a reward, she moved her hand closer to him, brushing her fingers over the tip of his penis. He nearly choked. She took it in her hand, shifting it upward, and gave him several soft pets on the underside. And it was too much. Too much time, too much anticipation, too much teasing over the week. She watched as ejaculate shot up into the air and back down again onto his stomach, surprised more than anything that so little direct contact could set this off. She wasn’t even touching him at this point. He was moaning and bucking his hips involuntarily into the air. As his orgasm passed, he whimpered quietly. Julie watched, fascinated, then started laughing once she realized what had happened. She had heard of ruined orgasms, but hadn’t ever seen one. She certainly hadn’t ever caused one. What did she hear about them? That they didn’t feel as good, but that they also didn’t cause a refractory period. It was sort of like a practice orgasm, right? She would find out. She was hungry tonight and didn’t want to be done! “I’m so sorry,” he gasped, nearly in tears. “I couldn’t control it! I…I…” “Shh, baby, you’re okay,” she soothed, using a tissue to wipe up what she could off his belly and nearby sheets. He’d be doing some laundry tomorrow, apparently. “We’re not stopping there. I think you’ve got more in you.” His breathing slowed. She got down close to his waist and breathed on his slightly softened manhood. She licked it a bit. She tickled it. It didn’t take long to stand right back up, gently bobbing with his heart beat. She smiled and climbed onto his chest, facing his head, and scooted closer to his blindfolded face. Time for her to reap the first carnal profits from the week’s efforts. He had been panicked when he’d come just now. He knew he was done for a while, and couldn’t believe the week had ended with such an embarrassing display. It was a different kind of accident than he usually had, and, like his wet accidents, had been watched by Julie. He was relieved when she was able to conjure another erection from him so quickly. Maybe that was because he’d been so deprived all week? He had no frame of reference to understand the week’s events. But he was humiliated by his premature discharge, and when Julie presented herself to his mouth, he was eager to prove himself to her. She could tell. And she was ready. He licked his way to 3 consecutive orgasms in short order. Between them, Julie reached a hand back to keep him primed, but it wasn’t difficult. Neither of them had ever been so excited and in sync. Julie decided it was time for the grand finale, and lowered herself down onto him teasingly. This second time, he was able to last a satisfyingly long time, and they both came together, sweaty and exhausted. Later, once he had been untied and rediapered, they snuggled together in bed. “Well?” Julie asked him. “…How was that?” He exhaled heavily. “Whew. It’s never been like that.” She smiled. “I know. Here’s a hint for the future: don’t ever doubt me.” He laughed. “I promise. I’ve learned that.” After a moment he said, “Anyway, it doesn’t matter. You seem to get your way most of the time, don’t you?” Julie chuckled. “Well, I would hope so.” She traced circles on his chest. “Now that it is over, what do you think about the results of the experiment?” He thought a bit. “Hmm. Well, this week was tough, but…good in a way. I felt frustrated, but kind of alive too.” He grunted and snorted. “Ah, it’s hard to explain.” She turned her head a little and looked at his profile in the darkness. “You were amazing this week. I want that man all the time. That is my dream!” He considered. “I can try. Might be kind of hard to sustain that.” She snorted. “Don’t worry, honey. I think I can help a little.” Intrigued, he waited for her to elaborate. When she didn’t immediately, he had to ask, “What’s that supposed to mean? How can you help? Wait—” But she was already propping herself up on her elbow to answer him, one hand now playing with his hair. “It seems like you thrive on fewer orgasms, babe. There will be a little rationing program from here on out.” Now he sat up sharply. “Now, wait. This was a fun game this week, but—” She looked at him in the murky moonlight shining in through their window. “But, what? This was the best sex ever. And it followed a week of relationship bliss for me. Sorry, not giving that up.” She laid back down. “But—” “That would be a really good place for you to leave this discussion,” Julie advised him. “I’ve had a lovely night, and I don’t want to ruin it with an argument.” She turned over. “You think about it tonight. If you come up with any good arguments why you should deprive me of such a loving partner and productive roommate, let me know tomorrow. For now, sleep! Love you.” She closed her eyes, and he was left to consider her words. The next day around the apartment, he was still considering. He was torn. He had felt truly elated toward the end of the week, and last night had been spectacular. But he was still a young man. Sex was his stress relief and had always been his decision. This relationship had changed so much for him—was he ready to give up control of his sex life as well? But there was only so far that masturbation could take him. He’d been dealing with the stress of a single man’s life. It was different now. He had someone. Someone who loved him and cared for him in ways he still couldn’t wrap his mind around. He felt nurtured and complete. He hadn’t known he’d been missing that. He loved it. He’d always assumed he’d have to make some compromises in a relationship. But he’d thought that frequent sex had been part of the perks of the deal. Did it make sense, as Julie had said, to sacrifice quantity for quality? He considered. Any orgasm was pretty fantastic, after all. But he’d never had a night like last night…. Today he felt different. He felt irritable. That high was gone. Because he’d had sex last night? He didn’t know. Was it worth testing out again? Maybe just with Julie’s next period. He was wiping the counter after lunch, deep in thought, when he became aware of Julie’s voice. But he’d missed what she’d said. “What?” he asked distractedly. She regarded him grimly. “Hmmm. This is how you act after you get sex. Not even aware of me, not listening. Is THAT really the argument you want to make for yourself?” He hurried to apologize. “I was just thinking about last week,” he explained. She raised an eyebrow. “And? What’s your best case for free-range orgasms?” His face fell. “I don’t know. I liked how I felt during the week. I just don’t know if I can do it all the time.” She came close. “Sweetie, you don’t have to do it alone. I’m here. And we’ll have plenty of sex. You just won’t have as many orgasms.” Her hand caressed his face. He was suddenly aware that her touch was not quite as electric as it had been only yesterday. What the fuck?! “Tell you what,” she was saying, studying him closely. “We both need to be on board with this for it to work. I mean, I could just decide, of course, but I want you to be supportive, too. “Let’s try it for a month. Just let me be in charge of when you get to come. I’m not going to be mean. I think you know that. Right?” He tried to meet her gaze. Damn, it was hard for him to have an adult conversation with a fully dressed woman when he was wearing a diaper and a onesie. “I know. I’m just…nervous.” She nodded, trying to divine his thoughts. “Scary to give up control, isn’t it?” “Yes,” he confessed. “The thing is, I think you might be right about this. But I like being able to have a say in this.” Julie took his hand and said to him, “Sweetheart, you are a spectacular doctor and a good man. But in our relationship, there are a few things that I have taken ownership of. And I haven’t been wrong yet, correct?” He knew he couldn’t hesitate here, even if he still had reservations about never being allowed to use the potty. “No, Ma’am,” he agreed. “Right,” she said. “This is another of those things. Remember that I get jurisdiction of—” and here she indicated his thighs—”about here”—and then moved her hand up to his waist—“to here, right?” She grinned at him. “That’s all I get. I take care of your diapers and your orgasms. You get everything else.” He nodded slowly. It didn’t sound significant, but…it was, wasn’t it? “Wait,” he said, drawing her into an embrace. “Aren’t we partners? What part of you do I get to control?” Julie smiled at him playfully. He thought he had her there. But she wouldn’t have brought it up if she didn’t have an answer to that question. “You control my heart, doctor. That’s the most important organ in the human body, isn’t it?” He sighed. It was hopeless. How was it that he had gone to medical school but couldn’t win a single argument with his nurse? Maybe he should have gone to law school. “So let’s try it for a month, okay, babe?” Julie chirped cheerfully. “I’ll make it worth your while…” Her hand tickled his belly, tracing the upper border of his diaper. “Yes, Ma’am.” Julie paused. “Speaking of trusting me, I’ve…got some…news. Tomorrow morning I’m covering a shift at the nursing home for my friend Hannah. She’s going away this weekend. We’d set this up months ago, before you lived here, and before–” she indicated his diapers–”all this.” He nodded. He knew she had worked at the home before his office. He’d never met Hannah, though. Julie was looking at him, like he was supposed to be understanding something important. “It’s a shift that starts at 6 tomorrow morning, until 2:30 in the afternoon. It’s a Saturday. You won’t be up yet.” His eyes widened. His morning routine. First thing in the morning–he’d have a very wet diaper, and then…he’d have a messy diaper. “Oh…” She nodded grimly. “I tried to get out of it, but I can’t find anyone else to cover. I have to do it. So…I asked my mom to come over to help out with the boys…and everything.” He paled. “Julie, I can’t–” She clasped his face in between her warm palms. “Of course you can, baby. My mom knows all about you and your schedule, and she’ll be expecting to change a dirty diaper. It’s fine. She’ll be professional and efficient, just like I was at the beginning. After you get that out of the way, you’ll be old friends, I’m sure,” she said, smiling at him. “This is just like everything else. You’ll need to trust me. There is no need to be overly embarrassed about your poops. Get over it.” She turned to leave the room, then turned back. He was still frozen to the spot, unable to move. “And by the way, this is obviously a fairly big favor she is doing us both, so I expect you to be as polite and helpful to her as you are for me. Be a VERY good boy tomorrow. I don’t want to get a bad report from her about your behavior.” He stood there for several minutes after she left the room. His girlfriend had arranged for her mother to change his messy diaper tomorrow–had essentially decided he needed a babysitter, that he couldn’t be trusted to take care of the boys, or himself, for a few hours on a weekend. He had been fully demoted to being a toddler in Julie’s house, without any autonomy or decision-making ability. He didn’t know whether to be more embarrassed or offended by the situation. They went to a park during the afternoon, then he had some clinical work to do online. By bedtime, he hadn’t figured out how to change his fate the next day. Not surprisingly, Julie was not in the mood for sex. She’d hinted as much earlier when she’d noticed his inattentiveness. After changing him, she was instead buzzing around the bedroom picking out the things she needed to wear in the morning. He watched her nervously from the bed, freshly taped into a clean, thick nighttime diaper. “What if we use the morning as an audition for me to show you how self-sufficient I can be? I’m sure I can change myself. And it’s low stakes. I’m not going anywhere during the day, so if I leak, big deal–” Julie had taken her clothes into her bathroom so she could get dressed in the morning without bothering him. “I think that if we decide to try that, I want to be home for it. Tomorrow is not the day for experiments.” She turned out the bathroom light and climbed into bed with him. “But if–” “Baby, that’s enough. I told you, Mom knows all about your diapers, and is expecting to change you after breakfast.” He reddened all over again, thinking about how that conversation must have gone. “But–” “I know you are stressed about it, baby, but she has changed poopy diapers before. It’s already been decided. Please remember your manners, okay?” She waited for him to answer. “Yes, ma’am,” he said. “But Julie, I–” “Please no more. I need you to be a big helper tomorrow. Andrew and Thomas can be a handful at times, and it would be nice if you are around to lend a hand. I need to get some rest now. I do love you!” she yawned, and turned over before he could respond. He wasn’t surprised that she had shut him down. This was the kind of discussion that wasn’t really a discussion. But he was dreading the morning. Sleep did not come easily to him. He tossed and turned for more than an hour, imagining having to go to Mrs. Davis with a loaded diaper and ask her to change him. He imagined her face as she smelled his mess. He imagined their new relationship as babysitter and toddler. Suddenly he thought of an idea. If he could wake up super early and have his breakfast and coffee before Julie had left, maybe she could change him. What time would that be? She had to be at the home by six, so 4:30 should do it, right? That was early, but it reminded him of residency days. He could do it, and catch up on his sleep tomorrow night. He set his alarm, an old digital clock on his side of the bed. He relaxed a bit, happy that he had come up with the workaround he needed, and was finally able to fall asleep. Chapter 23 He awoke to a bright bedroom and the sounds of dishes and happy boys in the kitchen. He was disoriented. Drawn by the smell of coffee, he groggily got up and padded into the kitchen wearing nothing but his diaper and onesie. He froze in the doorway when he saw Mrs. Davis sitting at the table with Andrew and Thomas. She looked up and saw him, a surprised hint of a smile on her face. Oh, shit, he thought. It was Sunday, and Mrs. Davis was here babysitting. But– What had happened? Why hadn’t his alarm awakened him? Rather than engage, he quickly backed away and entered the bedroom. He went to the alarm, which was switched to the “off” position. Had he imagined turning it on? Or had Julie turned it off? Well, crap, this was a nightmare. He should–maybe he– He heard Julie’s voice in his head. “I don’t want a bad report…” He knew he didn’t have a choice, and his heart sank. He wanted to make Julie happy, even if it was embarrassing for him. He swallowed hard, a feeling of dread settle over him. But maybe he could wear pants over his diaper for Mrs. Davis? She probably didn’t know about that little rule, right? He tried and failed to get his jeans over his swollen nighttime diaper, so he went with some sweatpants. He didn’t like the way they bulged, but it was better than just the onesie. He waddled out again to the kitchen. Mrs. Davis and the boys were still sitting at the table, Thomas explaining to his grandmother the difference between two little action figures he had with him. Mrs. Davis glanced over at him as he entered, but to his relief, didn’t say anything about his sweats. He noticed a steaming cup of coffee at the empty chair, and he sat down there. Thomas paused to take a breath, and Mrs. Davis took the opportunity to ask how many pancakes he’d like. Pancakes! This was a treat. “Um, three, please?” he asked. And then Thomas had to show him his little figures and tell him about the story they had been playing before breakfast. Andrew tried hard to add what he thought were important elements to the story as well. It was charming, and he found it hard to be anxious or embarrassed during the meal. Mrs. Davis helped them down from the table when they were finished, and they scampered off to continue playing in the living room. “Julie was never quite so into those action figures when she was little. She played and had quite the imagination though.” Mrs. Davis smiled at the thought. He was taken back to his own childhood and realized that he did have little guys he played with. “Maybe it’s a boy thing? I had little superheroes and dinosaurs that were part of my adventures.” Mrs. Davis was gazing at him, a pensive smile on her face. “I bet you were an adorable little boy. Kids grow up too fast, don’t they?” He mumbled his agreement. He hadn’t been a parent, but he knew this was something all parents said. Mrs. Davis stood up and cleared the dishes. “I’m so glad you are part of Julie’s life. She seems so happy now.” She brought him another cup of coffee, which he accepted. “She is the best thing that’s ever happened to me,” he said honestly. “Even–” He’d been about to say, “Even with the diapers,” but then realized that would be way too awkward. He tried to complete a reasonable sentence. “Even though stepping into this family was kind of unexpected. Those boys scared me at first. Now I can’t imagine life without them,” he told her. She sat back down. “That must be a tough thing to do, jumping into their lives like that. But they clearly love you. To them, you are a part of this family,” she said, smiling. “And thank goodness. They need someone male around here. I’ve seen you down on the floor, wrestling with them. They just adore it.” He smiled at the thought. They were like little bear cubs sometimes, crawling on him. He noticed they did treat him differently than they treated Julie. He felt like he was contributing something, and it was nice. “Well,” she said. “I definitely don’t mean to pressure you, so don’t take this that way, but you fit well into this family. We’d be happy to have you more permanently, if it works out for you and Julie.” He swallowed. He’d thought about that, of course. How could he not? Julie was the best person he’d ever met. She nurtured everyone she met, and would make a solid partner. He was deeply in love with her. But…he’d always thought the man was supposed to be in charge. He’d never felt entirely comfortable with that, and had instinctively imagined an equal partnership in a relationship. But his relationship with Julie was not either of those things. She was definitely in charge, and as educated as his was, it still embarrassed him a little. She said she claimed ownership over only a few things, and they did discuss and debate things together. She listened to him. His opinion mattered. But he harbored no doubts about what would happen if there was a stalemate and a decision needed to be made. At work, he was the boss. And he made a thousand decisions every day that affected big parts of people’s health. So in some ways it was a relief to cede decision-making control to Julie when they left work. He thought he could live with that decision permanently, especially as his trust in her and love for her grew. But it was still a leap. He wasn’t sure if he was ready. But what else did he need to know? She loved him, and was willing to take care of even the most intimate (and disgusting!) parts of him. She was weird in some ways, but wasn’t everyone? But would he always have to wear diapers? It seemed– All of a sudden he became aware of Mrs. Davis studying him. He’d gotten lost in his thoughts. “Ahem. That is very kind, Mrs. Davis. You have raised a wonderful daughter. She is…kind, and generous, and caring.” Mrs. Davis smiled. “Yes, Julie is a natural nurse, isn’t she? She has always known what she wants, and usually does a good job going after it. I’ve tried to teach her some secrets about that, of course. Tried to help her make good decisions. She is a little stubborn, but it is usually about the right things. There was only one time she got lost.” “Her ex-husband? She’s mentioned something about that, but we haven’t talked in much detail.” Mrs. Davis got up from the table. “Well, it isn’t my story to tell, of course. You could ask her. We could see potential trouble, but she wanted to believe. In the end it worked out okay, but it was hard. I think it changed her, of course. It had to.” She rinsed plates in the sink, then turned around and apparently caught sight of the boys in the other room. “And, of course we got some wonderful gifts from that terrible relationship. And speaking of them, would you mind keeping an eye on them for a few minutes while I clean up?” He was done with breakfast and coffee. “Yes, ma’am. Happy to help.” He stood up and became more self-conscious again about his soaking wet diaper. It was hard to walk naturally in it when it was this wet. If Mrs. Davis noticed, she didn’t say anything. He felt grateful for that. He waddled out to the living room. The boys were deeply engrossed in a story with their little action figures, the coffee table featuring prominently in one of them becoming lost. At his appearance, they rushed to update him on the situation. He expressed appropriate concern to them so they’d keep playing. At the same time he felt that familiar pressure start to build in his lower abdomen. For a few moments during breakfast, he had wondered if he could avoid having Mrs. Davis change a messy diaper, but that wasn’t going to happen. He thought about asking her if she would mind letting him use the potty. Maybe she wouldn’t want to change him and could see the advantage in that? But what if she told Julie? He thought back to trying to sleep with his bottom burning. Even avoiding the embarrassment of having Mrs. Davis change a messy diaper, of her knowing he pooped in his diaper, wasn’t worth that chance. As if reading his mind, she appeared in the doorway. “Can you give me a few more minutes to get some things ready for you boys? Then we can take care of changing some nighttime diapers.” “Yes, ma’am, it’s no problem,” he responded agreeably, but noticed the wording. “You boys.” While they had had an adult conversation, his diaper also meant he belonged to the “babysat” contingent, not the “babysitting” side. A cramp hit. It was time. And within a few moments, he had pushed out a load into his diaper. At least she wasn’t here to witness that. Maybe she had thoughtfully left him alone to give him a little dignity? He could smell himself now, but the little guys were typically oblivious. They’d found the lost character, but now a book-shaped monster was threatening them. Mrs. Davis re-entered the room, surveying the males with hands on her hips. She looked first to the little ones, who were so deeply engrossed they didn’t notice her. Her eyes turned to him, and cheerfully said, “I think they’ll be okay for a few minutes. Your diaper is hanging pretty low. How about if we take care of you first?” He swallowed and nodded. “Yes, ma’am, thank you.” She smiled. “I love your manners,” she said, as he passed her on the way to the bedroom. He entered the bedroom and saw the changing pad laid out on the bed, and wipes, powder, and a new diaper awaiting him as well. He paused, suddenly acutely embarrassed about what was to happen. But Mrs. Davis swept into the room behind him. “Whew. It smells like you need a change, too,” she said, smiling. “Why don’t you get those pants off and lie down on the bed? That’s how Julie does it, right?” “Yes, ma’am,” he mumbled, as he took off his sweats, centered himself on the pad, and laid back. “I’m so sorry you have to do this. I told Julie I was more than capable–” “Oh, hush,” Mrs. Davis said. “It’s no trouble.” She reached down to unsnap his onesie. “I don’t even need a diaper for…well, this. But she really wants me to use it all the time, and she doesn’t like me using the bathroom. She won’t really tell me why,” he said, aware that he was talking to quell the embarrassment. He wanted her to know it wasn’t his idea, and that he wasn’t a complete invalid. Mrs. Davis had untaped his diaper. “Shh, I know.” She wiped his penis, cleaning his front quickly and efficiently. “Can you lift your legs now?” she asked. He grabbed his knees and pulled them open as Julie had taught him. “Perfect,” he heard. “Julie has taught you well.” She pulled the diaper away from him and used it to clean him, front to back. “And she keeps you so well shaved. Very nice.” He was sure his face was bright red from the burning he felt in his cheeks. “Julie told me that you don’t like to poop in your diaper. She said you need the diapers because you wet your pants, but that it is just easier to keep you in diapers the whole time. Is that what she told you?” she went on, reaching over to get a wipe. He nodded, deciding not to argue about whether he routinely wet his pants. “Yes, ma’am. It’s–well, it’s obviously just so embarrassing, but she doesn’t want to debate it. I can’t imagine it is easier for her. Or pleasant for that matter,” he noted, feeling the familiar coldness of the wipe clean his bottom. It made him clench his sphincter; that was always a little shock to his system. But it warmed up quickly. Mrs. Davis was obviously experienced. She was fast, too! She smiled grimly. “That’s my girl. I can’t speak for her, but sometimes there are hidden reasons for an action that help explain it.” Mrs. Davis rolled the diaper up. “Okay, lift a little?” He felt the diaper removed and watched her tape up the dirty diaper and set it aside. She looked pensive. She opened the new diaper, seemingly considering something. “I guess I can tell you,” she decided. “Okay, up again?” She slid the diaper under him. “Did you know that I keep her father in diapers?” His eyes widened. He was stunned. What?!! Of course he didn’t know. He’d never met the man. ‘Kept him in diapers?’ “What? Why? What’s wrong?” She sighed. “Well, nothing, other than he’s a man.” He instinctively let his legs fall apart so she could powder him, which she did liberally. He blinked, confused. “A man? What does that have to do with it?” She brushed off her hands and pulled the diaper up between his legs. She considered her words. “I…have found…that he is a better husband and was a better father when he was dependent on me for…his…bathroom needs. So, long story short, that is how we have always done it. For decades now.” He was stunned. That was truly bizarre! But–very similar to his and Julie’s arrangement. Mrs. Davis pulled down the front of his onesie. “Julie said you can wait to get a shower until later when she is home, so if it is okay with you, we’ll wait to get you new clothes, too.” He hardly cared at this point. “That’s fine with me. Thanks. But–so–” She nodded and started snapping his onesie. “Yes, so that is the parental model Julie had growing up. We have a wonderful relationship, so she probably internalized and, what’s the term? Idealized it.” Mrs. Davis put away the wipes and powder. She smiled at him. “So, you see, it doesn’t surprise me to see your arrangement. And I know it doesn’t reflect on you or mean that you can’t take care of yourself. You are a good man, and you listen to your girlfriend. That’s all. And I can’t tell you how much that means to me. So thank you.” He sat up, overwhelmed. How much of their arrangement was him, or the need to be efficient at work, and how much was just the way Julie had been brought up? He had so many questions, and so many new things to consider. Mrs. Davis, however, had moved on. “Okay, well, I’ve got to get out and take care of Andrew and Thomas now before they leak. I’m not sure what you’ve got to do this morning, but you are welcome to play with us. I’ve got some crafts, and I think we’ll probably head out for a walk once it warms up.” He nodded, distracted. But he remembered to be polite. “Thank you. I’ve got some little things to do, but I’m happy to come along and help out where I can.” Mrs. Davis left the room. He was stunned, but some pieces certainly did fall into place. Why Julie had thought his wearing diapers would be a reasonable solution, why she wasn’t embarrassed about it. But did she think he needed to be a “better” boyfriend? What had he done wrong to make her think that? She hadn’t even known what he was like as a boyfriend before he wore diapers for her. Why hadn’t she ever told him about this? The rest of the morning passed quickly. He worked a little, then played with the boys to give Mrs. Davis a break. She asked him once before lunch if he needed a change. “No, ma’am,” he said. “I don’t think so.” He wasn’t too surprised when she came over and prodded his diaper to confirm. She nodded. “I agree. You’ll last a while. Carry on.” The morning with Mrs. Davis had gone well, for all of his worrying. She, like Julie, was matter-of-fact about the diaperings. She hadn’t belittled him, just treated it like a fact of life. He was grateful to her for that, even if she sometimes lumped him in with the little boys at times. They enjoyed a nice lunch, then had a walk. The boys were changed and put down for a nap. Mercifully, there was no talk of napping for him. He was reading a medical journal when he became aware of Mrs. Davis tidying up. He looked at the clock. It was mid-afternoon, time for Julie to come home. Her gaze fell upon him, and she paused. “Let’s get you changed into a nice dry diaper before Julie comes home.” He protested, “I’m not that wet, I can wait.” Sure, Mrs. Davis was kind and professional about the whole thing, but did he constantly have to be on his back around these women? Besides, he was right in the middle of an article about– She shook her head. “You boys would go all day in a wet diaper if you could. No, it’s not nice for her to come home to a wet diaper. Let’s go. We’ll get you dry and comfortable.” He opened his mouth again, but realized Julie’s mom had made up her mind. Decisive women ran in the family, apparently. He followed Mrs. Davis back into the bedroom and sat on the bed while she rummaged around for the supplies. “Okay, lie back,” she said as her hands went to his onesie again. “I love this fabric. So playful. Julie has turned into quite a seamstress. I’ll have to look around for more patterns for her. Just adorable.” He was a little alarmed at this. “Um, do you think you could put in a plug for something more, um, grown-up? You know, normal colors or something?” She had untaped him and was wiping him already. “Oh, but these are adorable. A onesie should be cute and child-like. But it wouldn’t hurt to have more variety. You probably need a ‘good boy’ onesie with trucks and footballs, and then one for when you need to be taken down a peg.” His eyes bulged. Where was this going? She had unfolded the new diaper. “Up–there you go. Tell me, how would you feel about a nice pink onesie with unicorns and princesses on it?” He choked. “No! Please! Why would I want that?” She smiled as she taped him up. “Ooh, struck a nerve with that one, huh? I’ll make sure to find a nice girly one to use as a punishment onesie. You don’t have one of those yet, right? For after a spanking?” He was speechless. How did she know about–had Julie told her everything? He just stared at her in embarrassment. She smiled as his cheeks burned. “I’m her mother. Of course we talk.” She cleaned up, disposed of the wet diaper, and snapped him back up. “Well, I’ve got some homework to do, apparently. Gotta get on that.” She went into Julie’s bathroom to wash her hands. He needed to talk to Julie about this onesie thing, and about talking to her mother about their most private– Just then he heard the front door open, so he set aside those thoughts and hurriedly waddled out of the bedroom. Julie was arriving home. She put her purse down on the counter and took in the sight of him entering the kitchen in his onesie. She smiled. “How’s my big boy? How was your day?” He opened his mouth, trying to think of something to say that sounded like what a boyfriend might say, not a child. Most of the day had been spent worrying about diapers, then privacy about onesies and spankings. But Mrs. Davis walked into the kitchen. Julie turned to her mother, eyebrows raised. “Everything go okay today, Mom?” Her mother smiled. “Of course, honey. All of your boys were well behaved, and you have a keeper in this one,” she said, indicating him. He blushed. Julie came over to him and put her arms around him fondly. “Oh, yeah? He didn’t give you too much trouble?” Mrs. Davis smiled and put on her jacket. “Trouble? Of course not. We got to know each other, and he was a big help with the boys.” She picked up her purse. “But I do hope it is the regular time tomorrow. This was an early morning.” Julie said, “Yep, that sounds good. I’m sure that was rough on everybody,” she added, giving him a look. “Let me walk you out, Mom.” When Julie returned, she surveyed the apartment. Perhaps awakened by the door closing repeatedly, the boys sleepily toddled out of their room. Seeing their mother, they broke into a run and gave her a big hug around her legs. “Oh, that’s what I needed after being at work on a Sunday!” she exclaimed, squatting down and letting the boys kiss and hug her. “Anyone need a change?” Andrew and Thomas submitted to having their diapers checked, but Julie found them clean and (mostly) dry. She turned to him. “How about you, mister?” Her hand cupped his crotch, though her eyes didn’t leave his. Her eyebrows rose. “A completely dry diaper?” “Just changed,” he explained shyly. Julie’s face showed surprise. She hadn’t expected him to need more than his morning change. “Your mom insisted.” She smiled. “She can be convincing.” She stood and gave him a deep kiss, ignoring her sons trying to get her attention. “Thank you for being such a good boy.” Then she turned to the kids. “Show me what you guys did today!” Chapter 24 He made supper for the family, which she appreciated after a day at work. The boys had asked for spaghetti, and, luckily, he could boil water. After Andrew and Thomas went to bed, he and Julie sat and talked on the sofa. “Mom said you didn’t put up any fuss at all today. Aren’t you big!” she said, stroking his hair fondly. He dropped his eyes. “Your mom was very kind. It was horribly embarrassing. But she was nice about it.” “Oh, good. I told you it would be fine.” Time to get some answers. He gathered his courage and asked, “Did you turn off my alarm? I’d set it so I could–um, say goodbye to you this morning.” She snorted. “I know why you set it, you goof. Yes, I turned it off. You need your weekend sleep. And apparently, just like I’d promised, it turned out just fine. You remember that next time you second-guess me.” He nodded. It still would have been better his way. On to the big revelation of the day. “You never told me that your dad wears diapers. Your mom says she thinks that’s why you don’t let me use your bathroom.” She paused, her eyebrows raised. “Did she now?” He sat up a little, looking at her fully. “Didn’t you think I’d like to know that? That I might find it relevant?” This time it was Julie who broke eye contact. She looked down for a moment, then back to him. “Yes, I know. It was just–it was just hard for me to find a way to explain. I realize you might be interested in that.” She thought for a moment. “I never knew my father before their…arrangement. He was always in diapers, and I grew up thinking it was common. He was never embarrassed in front of me, just matter-of-fact. I assumed he needed them,” she told him. “It wasn’t until I got married that Mom confessed it had nothing to do with medical need. She explained that Dad seemed more, um, devoted to her when she kept him in diapers. It wasn’t that he was abusive or mean. He was a good man, she said. But–he just seemed more present and emotionally available to her when he used diapers instead of the potty. “She decided that, for them, their relationship would be better if he stayed in diapers. He later agreed, apparently. He needed them, but not for a physical reason. He needed them to be the best husband and father he could be.” Julie’s eyes dropped again. “My marriage was terrible. I know I haven’t talked much about it. I don’t like to think about it. I thought I knew what I wanted in a man. Let’s just say, I was young then. It probably would have been better if I had an arrangement like my parents had, but…he…wouldn’t consider it. “Our relationship was terrible, even with two little babies. Maybe worse because of that, I don’t know. When I told him I wanted to try diapering him, I knew how it would go down. And it was predictably bad. He told me I was a freak. It’s not the only reason we got a divorce, but it might have sped the process a little.” She smiled grimly. “And that was okay with me. I’d given him an ultimatum, and he chose divorce. In retrospect, that was definitely the better option.” He reached out to her, his hand on hers. “I’m sorry you had to go through that marriage. But–I’m trying to understand how I’m–why you wanted me to–ugh, I don’t know. We weren’t in a relationship at the time. Were you thinking we should be? Do I remind you of your ex-husband in some way?” She laughed. “No, sweetie. I put you in a diaper because you needed it. We really did need to work better together.” She looked at him fondly. “But you can see why it seemed, oh, I don’t know, like, reasonable. You looked at me like I was crazy,” she said. “But it wasn’t weird to me. Just what I grew up with.” He sat next to her, in thought. This explained a lot, actually. Why an adult wearing a diaper wasn’t bizarre to her. Why it was the first solution she had thought of at work. Why she still thought he was datable even though she had changed his dirty diapers. He felt relieved that she didn’t think of him the same way as her ex-husband. But she rose now, apparently done with the conversation. “Let’s go to bed now. I had an early morning, you know.” Later as they snuggled together in bed, they were each lost in their own thoughts. Julie, satisfied from 2 orgasms he had given her, was pondering how lucky she felt. She had entered this relationship attracted but wary, wondering if she could persuade a physician to give up ultimate control to her. She hadn’t been been able to assume they’d have a personal relationship necessarily, but was just looking for a bigger say in her professional career. But she had fallen in love with his gentle and naïve openness, his willingness to follow her lead, which encouraged her to push him further down an unknown road. Now, that road seemed even more inviting and promising. She had been leery of another relationship, honestly, but this was on her terms. Her mother had shown her the way. He was under her thumb in such a personal and total way that she felt completely secure. She was delighted that he was actually diaper dependent, which was not something she’d known to expect. Her father, apparently, was not. But this development meant that she could be supportive and helpful, not pushy and controlling, and still keep his infantile side front and center. And while she had thought the diapers would be the key to keeping him humble and well controlled, now she realized that she had unintentionally stumbled upon another big key, never mentioned by Mom. Controlling orgasms was clearly more powerful than she had expected, and seemed to work well with the diapers. They kept his hands out of trouble. The longer he went without an orgasm, the more obedient and eager to serve he became, and the less likely he was to complain about the diapers. It was a perfect system! If he thought that this month of orgasm control was going to end, he would be surprised. She had heard of chastity cages; if he put up any kind of fuss, he would find himself locked in a cage inside of a diaper. A part of her almost hoped he balked at following her lead on this, but she also knew it would be better if he was invested in making it work. So she would have to make it fun for him, even if his sex life was changing forever… And hers was, too. She hadn’t known how much she liked the gentle domination that had evolved, but it worked for her! Yet another reason they’d never go back to him being in control. She considered the path ahead. She thought she had done a good job preserving his ego—a critical challenge with any man. She didn’t want him to be completely emasculated, just deferential to her. She had laid down the law, and he had accepted. He was getting more and more dependent on her, and yet remained the efficient, caring provider she had loved. He wasn’t going to cheat on her, she felt sure: as perfect a mate as he had turned into, wearing diapers probably made him less appealing to others. She had made him more attractive to her and less of a catch for others. He was the perfect partner, and he was all hers! She couldn’t be happier. “Baby, you still awake?” she asked quietly. He was. He was simply thinking about his unfulfilled sexual need. It was true that Julie had played with him a little, but she had decided he wasn’t going to cum tonight. She didn’t seem mad at him, so he guessed that it was just to keep him frustrated. “Yes, ma’am,” she heard him murmur. It was starting to give her a little sexual thrill to hear him say that. She cleared her throat. “I have a confession to make.” “Oh?” He’d been getting drowsy, but this roused him a little. She turned toward him in bed, and she reached out to caress his face. “I kind of like this.” He was confused. “Like what?” She stared into his eyes. “Us. Together.” She propped herself up on her elbow. “I like you here in the apartment, with my boys. I like you, in diapers, letting me change you.” She smiled. “And I really like that you let me decide when you get to come.” He swallowed. He wasn’t so sure that would always work for him. But…this probably wasn’t the time to argue, he could see. He smiled a bit to himself. Actually, there was never a good time to argue, was there? Her hand was tickling his chest now. “We’re good together, aren’t we?” He nodded and admitted what he had known for a while now. “Yes, ma’am, we are.” Julie swallowed, a bit nervously, it seemed to him. “What would you think about making this arrangement more, um, permanent?” He was thinking about the sex. He still wasn’t sure he liked the new system…but…maybe she wasn’t just talking about the sex. “What–” Now she was looking intently into his eyes. “What would you think of getting married?” she asked. He swallowed, but his throat was suddenly dry. “Is this a proposal?” She stared for just a moment, then nodded. Her voice was suddenly kind of husky. “Yes, I think it is.” He was surprised. Wasn’t he supposed to propose? But he admitted to himself that nothing about their relationship had been conventional. He’d thought about marriage. A lot, actually, since they’d been living together. But it was a leap. Sure, it was probably always a huge step, but this…this arrangement… Julie had asked him to do all sorts of bizarre things: wear and use diapers, poop and pee in front of her, allow her to change them and dress him in babyish clothes, allow her to spank him and control his orgasms. He thought back to the first day, when she’d fixed him with that “mom” look and told him to pull his pants down so she could diaper him. It had all followed from his decision to obey her at that moment. He hadn’t felt like he’d had a choice that day. Had he ever had a choice since then. Well, it seemed like he had a choice tonight. It was all incredibly embarrassing, but it had taken him down a spectacularly intimate path. She truly didn’t seem to care about things other people found humiliating or gross. He had gone with it. If she didn’t care, why should he? After wearing diapers for a few months, he wasn’t confident he could keep his pants dry. That wasn’t good, and it was a direct consequence of following Julie’s suggestions. But if he was with Julie, it didn’t really matter, did it? He realized that nothing really bad had happened to him since they had been together, despite all of her twisted instructions. There were some difficulties with how she wanted him to live, but with her help, it was easy. In fact, after a day full of making nonstop important decisions, how nice was it to come home and not have to worry about deciding anything? And now, he had to admit, he was accustomed to wearing diapers. After so much intimate touching and teasing, the smell of baby powder gave him an erection. Her “baby” voice, the quiet soothing voice she used when changing him, made him hard. Even that stern look she gave him, almost every day for some reason or another, turned him on. He realized he loved being babied by Julie. It had been a crazy ride so far that had challenged him. But he loved this woman. Maybe they could still work on his wetting problem. Prior to today, he had been sure she wouldn’t want him in diapers forever, but now he wasn’t entirely sure. Did it really matter, though? He smiled at her. “If I say yes, can we have sex tonight?” She laughed. “Definitely not.” He stared at her with an expression that said, Seriously?! She patted his cheek. “But I’ll make sure you enjoy it when we DO have sex. This time and every time.” Exasperated, he fell back on his pillow. She leaned over him and kissed him. “Have I ever steered you wrong yet? By this point, you should trust me, right?” He relaxed and realized she was right. Julie was always right. He was so happy with her. He would stay with her, in diapers, getting sex when she said so and being spanked when he angered her. Because somehow, now, that seemed like the place he had always been meant to be. So he answered her proposal the only way he knew how. He made sure she could hear his manners. “Yes, ma’am.” And she smiled.

Written with a little assistance from ai tech. Chapter 1: What do you mean choose?? Jesse My sister and I walk side by side through the too-quiet streets. I can feel Tessa’s unease. It’s always so close to the surface with her. My twin’s shoulders slump forward. She pulls her arms tight around her torso, bracing against the gust of wind that chills our bones. “Jesse, Mom’s been acting really strange lately, don’t you think?” she asks, chewing on her bottom lip the way she does when she’s nervous. I nod, my own worry gnawing at me. Ever since that mysterious envelope arrived from the school, Mom has been increasingly brooding. She’s usually chipper, despite the way things have been in this country lately. It’s so unsettling to see her like this. She hasn’t been this way since Dad died. Another gust of wind carries the distant sound of machinery through the air. Down the street, construction workers remove play structures from the old elementary school’s recess yard. The building has been abandoned for ten years, since the last of us were young enough to attend primary school. The last child in the country turns eighteen next week. Tessa and I are nearly twenty. We pass the elementary school quickly and quietly, turning our heads away as the construction workers rip the last vestiges of our happy childhoods from the Earth. Once we’re clear, Tessa releases a shaky breath. I can hear the tremble in her voice as she speaks. “You know, Jess, sometimes I wish we could just marry and start families and…” Her voice trails off, and her bottom lip quivers. Marriage is forbidden. Families are impossible. The last world war ravaged our planet and our bodies. Humans have lost their ability to reproduce. Tessa will cry if I don’t say something. She always cries. “I know, Tess,” I murmur. “But, hey. At least we have each other.” We hear hurried footsteps behind us. “Jess! Tess!” We turn to see our childhood friend Nick running to catch up with us. His usually cheerful face is ashen, and his eyes hold a glint of fear. My pulse quickens. “Nick, what is it?” I ask, keeping my voice monotone for Tessa’s sake. “What? Your mom didn’t tell you?” Nick huffs, out of breath. “Tell us what?” Tessa asks. The worry in her voice tells me she’s already imagining the most catastrophic news. I put a leash on my own imagination. “About the letter the school sent home to all the parents,” Nick says. He hesitates, then looks around to ensure that we’re alone. “By national decree, all families have to choose one of their two children under the age of twenty-five to surrender to the government by the end of the week.” My heart pounds. I wouldn’t believe it, wouldn’t even consider it, if I weren’t hearing it directly from Nick himself. His father is the mayor of this desolate town, so I know Nick wouldn’t waste my time with useless rumors. “What do you mean choose?” Tessa shrieks, and then takes off, bolting for our house, while the harsh truth of our mother’s strange behavior hits me like a train. I thank Nick for the news and take my time getting home. I’ve known for some time that the world has been changing in unimaginable ways, but this seems bleak. What does the government want with us? My mind races as I try to come up with an explanation…and a solution. Somehow, I have to keep our family together. It’s what my dad would want. When I reach home, I find my mother and sister sitting at the kitchen table. Tessa is draped over my mother’s lap, sobbing inconsolably, while my mother just stares blankly into space, pain and horror etched on her face. Her eyes drift toward me as I stand in the doorway. “I didn’t want you to find out like this,” she says. “I didn’t know how to tell you.” A stronger wave of sobs rack Tessa’s slim frame. A lump forms in my throat, but I push past it. “There has to be a way out of this,” I say. “There must be something we can do.” But even as I say it, the words feel hollow and futile. I think of Dad again and wish he was here. He’d know what to do. My mother just looks away. Tessa Jesse and I head back to school the next morning. School halted during the war, so everyone’s a few grades behind, not that it even matters. There are no jobs for our generation, so there’s no pressure to hurry through high school. If it were up to me, I wouldn’t even go to school, but the law requires it. The streets are as eerie and silent as ever, and my sister hardly says a word. I can tell she’s busy trying to think of a plan to save our family. That’s Jess. She always thinks she can fix everything. She should know better by now. This world sucks, and it’s going to keep sucking. We pass the old elementary school again, and I shudder with the creeps. The swing sets, slides, see-saw, jungle gym…it’s all gone. Everything I loved when I was little. Where all this playground equipment once stood, now there are large wooden crates. The construction workers have been replaced by painters who prime the school’s outer walls. I glance nervously at Jess. She just offers me a firm, reassuring smile. Like everything’s going to be okay. I offer a weaker smile in return. The high school yard is abuzz with chatter when we arrive. It seems like everyone knows about the decree. “Did you hear?” one girl whispers to another. “The Buchanan’s tried to run. They didn’t want to give up either of their sons. The police arrested Mr. and Mrs. Buchanan and took both boys.” I gasp in horror. When I turn to Jesse, I can tell she heard too, but she refuses to let the determination fade out of her eyes. It’s impossible to focus on my classes, and it’s not only me. As I glance around my first hour, I see students fidgeting and whispering when the Mr. Barris isn’t looking. As he writes on the whiteboard, Mr. Barris sighs mid-sentence. He sets his marker down and turns around. “I’m sure you all know by now that this afternoon, some of you will be taken away,” he says. “I suppose I should also tell you that, after today, this school will close. Those of you who remain will be sent to a new school—a new college of sorts.” My eyes widen. College? Those closed down years ago. I wonder if Jesse’s teacher is telling her the same news. She’s always been a stronger student than me. A guilty feeling nibbles as my conscience as I wonder which one of us our mother will choose to give away. At lunch, we sit with our friends, Nick and Lucas. Nick’s face is greener than usual, like he’s going to be sick. “What’s wrong?” I ask him. Jesse shoots me one of her pitying looks, as if I’ve asked a silly question. Nick’s hand trembles. “My dad told my brother and I his choice this morning,” he says. “He’s keeping Ethan.” Something catches in my throat. Tears blur my eyes. “Nick, I’m so sorry,” my sister says. “This is all so terrible.” Lucas, one of the most handsome guys in school, slides a hand over my sisters. “Jesse, I won’t let anything happen to you,” he promises. A twinge of envy passes through me. Lucas has had a crush on Jesse for as long as I can remember, and she’s not even the one who wants a boyfriend. Jesse says nothing, and I resent her silence. Why is she so distant toward him? I’d be all over him, if only he’d look at me. A terrible thought creeps into my mind, a thought from the darkest corners of my heart, but I can’t help it. I can’t help hoping that mom chooses to give up Jesse and not me.

🧸🧷🧸 PART I THE FIRST ACCIDENT, OF A SECOND DIAPERING "Nah nah nah, uh uh… Where do you think you are going? Do you see your nephew climbing over the gate? You are supposed to ask for help. Seriously, how is a 3 year old more well behaved than you? Now get back in there with all of the other jobless freeloaders." Stephanie laughed, gesturing for her step son to rejoin his two young cousins in the playpen. "Hey! Bella isn't a jobless freeloader. She still gets royalty checks for that Gerber ad she was in last year!" Kate huffed, quickly coming to her daughter's defense. "How bout that, two times already today that a toddler proved they are more of an adult than you. HaHaHa. I really think this baby punishment was the right move Mom. For sure. The playpen is definitely more his speed. You should have seen how stupid he used to make himself look at the clubs." Kate started talking to her mom about her brother like he wasn't right there. "It's not BABY PUNISHMENT, It's regression therapy. And I wouldn't even be doing it, if it wasn't court ordered!" Chris hated that his sister got away Scott free, and he got passed all the blame for burning down the neighbors barn full of antique tractors last summer. "I have to go to the bathroom. And I'm already out here, can I just go?" "How are you ever going to learn to be a respectful young man, if I keep letting you get away with stuff like this?" Stephanie rested her hands on her hips. And sternly glared at her stepson. "Now get back in that playpen and ask for help if you need to make potty." "I need to go to the bafroom!" Bella shouted from the playpen. Okay then, let's go then. Thank you for asking. Who's my big girl!" Kate cooed as she lifted her daughter over the gate, and walked her towards the bathroom. "I'm so proud of you. I bet by the end of the month you will be wearing pig girl undies like your big sister!" "That's not fair! I asked first!" Chris shouted. Angry that the only toilet in the house was now occupied. and, Annoyed that his 3 year old cousin was going to make it out of pull ups before him. "I really need to go!" "Well you actually didn't ask. So let's start with that shall we?" Stephanie said waiving her hands, ushering her stepson back into the playpen. "Stephanie please! I really need to go to the bathroom." Chris sighed after climbing back into the childish play area. "Can I please go first? I will be quick." He pleaded. Already starting to wiggle behind his discomfort. "Are you seriously going to make it three times in an hour, and prove that you can't even hold your wee wee long enough for your cousin to go potty?" Kate huffed, as she lifted Bella onto the toilet, and shut the bathroom door. "Stephanie! Can I just go out back?" Chris urgently asked, dancing on his tippy toes, holding his crotch behind white knuckles. "And give Mrs. Martin another reason to complain to the neighborhood watch? I don't think so!" Stephanie quickly denied. "If you can't hold it, just go. You are literally wearing a toilet!" She laughed. She didn't take as much joy in her step-son's embarrassing penance as her daughter Kate, but she sometimes could help but just laugh at him. "What is taking so long?" Chris was at the bathroom door now. "I'm coming in!" Chris shouted excitedly. as the first little spurt of pee escaped into his pull-up. Only to be met by the firm unbudging weight of a locked handle. "Jesus Chris! Hold on. Bella is a little constipated. I told her not to eat all that cheese." Kate hollered from behind the door. "Just listen to Mom, and go in your diapers. It isn't healthy to hold your pee in this long." Tears were welling in his eyes, as the first battle was lost. "I don't wear diapers, and you know I don't really use them!" Which was true, until about 6 seconds ago. Tears rolled down his face, as he flooded his pull-up. But that wasn't the worst part. "Please! If she's constipated, just take her off the toilet for a minute, and let me use it! I am very very NOT constipated!!!" Chris shouted. Painfully aware that he had very little time before this little accident became much bigger. "Uh-oh. I think he's trying to say he needs to go number 2. I was wondering why he is still doing his little potty dance." Stephanie said. "What do you mean, you were wondering why he is STILL doing his potty dance. Is there a reason he should have stopped? I can only think of one reason someone stops doing a potty dance." Kate was laughing hysterically. "Did he really just pee his pants out there?" "Well he isn't actually wearing pants. But Im pretty sure his pull up is wet. The little balloons disappeared." Chris didn't even notice Stephanie take a few steps towards him. "Ope, yeah definitely three times. I wonder how many other ways we can find for Chris to come in second to a toddler in the 'im a big kid now' game." Chris jumped back as he felt his stepmoms hand prodding his sodden shame. That was it. Being startled like that was too much for his little sphincter. The second battle had been lost... and, the end of the war was hearalded by a thunderous fart, and a desperate moan. "NOOO!!!" Chris screamed. Hearing the lock click, and door swing open just in time for Kate to wittnes the exhibition. "Thanks alo… uhh.. grrmmpf… a lot!" "Why are you just standing there? I thought you still needed to use the…" Kate stopped talking, as she noticed the strained distant look in her step-brothers eyes. his slightly bent knees, and balled fists. "You are not seriously! Oh my God! Get out of my way! I can already smell it!" Chris tried to get to the toilet and at least get some of the mess into the bowl. "Hmmpppfff… hmmppfffff…" he grunted, only making it another step or two before his body decided it wasn't really worth it. He conceded, and decided to just push the rest out, since it was already coming. The relief felt amazing even though he was about to die from embarrassment. "This is all your fault!" He screamed at Kate, tears still pouring down his face. "How is it my fault that you waited to go to the bathroom this long. You are an adult. You should really be able to have a little more control. This is on you little brother. You pooped your pants, not me." Kate snorted. "Hey! What the fuck!?!" Chris shouted at the flash of Kates camera. "Did you just take a picture?" He asked. Trying to pull his Tshirt down far enough now to cover his soiled diaper. "Uh oh! Uncle Chris, It's okay. My mommy said that it's is. She told me that everyone has an accidents sometimes." Kate was able to avoid the question, as bella approached Chris. Who's knees had buckled under the weight of his Shame, sending him to the floor where he tried not to move, and feel the mess squish more. "Yepp. Everyone has them. Even Santa Clause, and Tinkerbelle, and um… well I don't. I don't go poop in my pants anymore. Because I am a big girl." The two women were laughing hysterically at the young girls savage burns, executed from a place of pure innocence and sincerity. "Please tell me you got that on video, and not just a picture. I think we could win the TikTok with that one!" Stephanie wheezed between laughs. "Geez mom. Your skin says you're still in your 30's but sometimes you really show your age. Nobody 'wins' TikTok. But yes. I do have a video." She opened the file, twisting the knife in Chris's wound. Making him hear it all over again. A fucking 3 year old, reminding him that she doesn't poop her pants as he his litterally sitting in the mess he just made. "Oh yeah. That is perfect! too fucking funny!" She laughed, starting the video again, so Stephanie could watch. After a few screenings, the two ladies had found a calm in the storm of laughter. "Maybe you are right Mom. Maybe this is the video that is going to win the tiktock." "You can't! I DO NOT give you my permission to post a video of me!" Chris tried to act as big as one could, when they are looking up at their mom and sister from the ground, sporting a very full pull-up. "Um… conservatorship. I am literally your legal guardian. I can post all the pictures and videos I want. But I tell you what. If you decide that, after you get cleaned up, you want to start acting like a big kid again, and not someone in the tralls of their terrible twos, I promise I won't post them. Deal?" Stephanie said "I promise! I promise I'll be good!" Chris obviously took the deal. Not only would his friends not see him wearing the same pull ups their all their younger siblings were wearing, it got him in the shower, and away from the twos' infuriatingly embarrassing laughter. "Good, after you get yourself cleaned up, come back to the living room. You can clean up the play area, while we get the twins ready for their naps." Stephanie demanded. Knowing how much Chris hated picking up after himself, let alone a bunch of sticky Rugrats. "Yes mam, I'll be right back down… can I have… a clean pull-up to change into please." Chris nearly choked on the words. But he wanted to be as sincere as possible, until he found a way to delete that video. "I'll bring one up. Just hurry on, and go. You smell absolutely dreadful. Just… hurry up." Stephanie nasally honked, pinching her nose shut, as she helped Chris to his feet with her other hand. "Wow… did you see that attitude change. If I knew making him shit himself was the key to making him more obedient, I would have pumped his breakfast full of laxatives weeks ago. Heck… years ago!" Kate laughed. divulging her morning mischief to her mother, as soon as Chris was out of earshot. "Oh Kate… you didnt!" Stephanie tried to act like she didn't think it was the funniest thing she had heard all week. "I mean… you can't argue results. Do you still have any more laxatives left? In the shower Chris kept wishing he would wake up. But he knew in his heart of hearts that he wasnt dreaming. The nightmare that just unfolded was very much his real life. For the next 32 months anyway. He tried to not let his repulsion to being under the thumb of those two blonde bimbos fester. He knew he had to stay on their good side, as much as he hated it. He let the water run cold as he thought about all the stupid decisions that led him to this point… To be continued… Act II The flashback, and a New Deal

So, a year ago I started to write a story and got a few chapters in but a really bad experience killed any drive to do anything related to this fetish. So, a year later I've gotten over it and decided to reboot the story by releasing a chapter once a week. I have up to Chapter 7 done and hopefully won't get caught up on posting vs writing. If that happens, posting might slow down but I will finish this story. It's very much a basic AF diaper fap story so don't expect a masterpiece. Hopefully it reads well and all criticism/feedback is welcome. Formatting on this forum is odd so I apologize if it looks odd. I'm rewriting the previous version of this story and trying to make fatter chapters out of the previous ones. Enjoy. Hard Reset Chapter One: The Meeting The Anderson's took three months to search orphanages across the country, three months to find the perfect girl. The main problem for them was her age, she was almost an adult and able to discharge herself without being adopted. Being months away from eighteen also makes the legal process harder as well, considering it can anywhere between nine months to many years for the process to actually go through. Not to mention, she would need to agree to the adoption as well, which is something they needed to pursue first. Their chosen candidate was named Alex. She was small for someone her age, at a massive 4’10” she was towering over toddlers and not much else. Having a slender “bean pole” build was also a major factor in the Anderson's decision that she was the one they wanted. Mr. and Mrs. Anderson where both in their early forties and loaded, if their initial meeting went poorly then they could easily grease the wheels to make it work regardless. They were going to get their girl, one way or another… Alex shut the door to her room, sighing as she tossed her backpack in the corner of the room. She walked over to her bed and collapsed face first. She was burned out and wanted to decompress after her final week of exams. She was alone and she knew that the three other girls she shared the room with wouldn’t be home until later in the day. She was done with high school, although being delayed for a rather long time because of the reason she was orphaned in the first place. She knew she would be out of this place in a few months and fully independent. She took the opportunity to change into a pair of black sweat pants and a black t-shirt and laid back down on the bottom bunk. Now that she was more comfortable, she grabbed her phone and started browsing the internet for something to help her relax. Double checking that she was alone, she slipped her hand down her pants and disappeared into fantasy land. She was almost there when the door to the room flew open, a grey haired woman stood in the doorway, smiling from ear to ear. Alex pulled her hand from her pants just in time. Her face was flush but Mrs. Cooper, the head of the care home, seemed oblivious of what she was doing. “Alex, I have a big surprise for you!” She said “Come with me!” extending her hand. Her heart pounding at the sudden exposure, Alex hesitated. “Right now?” she managed to squeak out. “Yes, right now.” Mrs. Cooper lost her smile and stared right at her. “Take a moment to get cleaned up, and put something nice on.” Alex didn’t argue, she slowly got off the bed. Still in mini panic mode of almost getting caught with her hand down her pants. Taking a clean skirt out of her dresser, she slowly walked up to her caretaker with the intent of going closing the door to change. As she got close, Mrs. Cooper put her hand on her chest and looked her right in the eye. At almost six feet, the older women towered over her. With the heat still in her pants, the prolonged stare was the last thing she needed. Mrs. Cooper walked over the dresser and grabbed a large hair brush and hairband. Returning to the smaller girl, she grabbed her long black hair and roughly put it into a pony tail. Putting the hair brush back, she took the girls wrist in her own hand and practically dragged to out the door. Walking down the hallway, she quickly realized what she was being led to. She was going to be made to change in the group bathroom while Mrs. Cooper was going to be waiting outside the stall. This was to prompt expediency and she knew it. “A nice couple is looking to adopt you.” Mrs. Cooper said while Alex was quickly changing in the isolated stall. “You’ll be on your best behavior or you’ll regret it.” This was a surprise, it was a waste of time considering she was close to being a legal adult. She wasn’t given the opportunity to be adopted in a long time because of her age. Having declined all of the potential parents, a lot of families just stopped trying to adopt her based on that alone. She just wanted to be out on her own, she was so close and she didn’t understand why Mrs. Cooper was even bothering to try one last time. Once changed, she was once again led by the hand to the interview room. Mrs. Cooper stopped right before entering and did a few more things in an attempt to clean Alex up. With a somewhat heavy sigh, she put her hand behind Alex and guided her into the room. There were two people sitting at the table in the middle of the room. A larger man and a women about same size as Mrs. Cooper, both looked like they were straight out of the 50s. He was in a black business suit, sporting a dark red tie. The lady looked like one of those women on a World War II propaganda poster. Her brown hair done up with large curls that looked like she emptied a can of hairspray just to keep the shape. A red and white poke-a-dot dress, bridge red lipstick and a white furry number covering her shoulders. Alex was guiding to a chair in front of the two strangers. Sitting down, she just stared at the table. The large windows of the room where open, letting in the sounds of the city flood the room. Car horns, sirens and engine sounds added to the ambiance to the otherwise awkward moment. “I’m Martha Anderson.” She women in the red dress said sweetly “And this is my husband Thomas.” She gestured to the suited man. “We’re really glad to finally meet you Alex, we’ve been looking forward to this moment for months.” Thomas said with a mild grin. “I’m not interested” Alex said bluntly, not taking her eyes off the table. “That’s not how you talk to an adult Alex. Look at them when you’re talking.” Mrs. Cooper interjected. “I said I’m not interested, I’m almost old enough to be on my own and I don’t need to be adopted.” Alex said coldly, still looking at the table. “If you’re not interested, you’re not interested.” Thomas said. “We won’t force the issue. I believe we’re done here.” He said looking at Mrs. Cooper. The couple got up with Thomas gesturing to his wife to take a lead. “I’m sorry about that Mr. Anderson, she is too stubborn for her own good.” Mrs. Cooper said. “I’ll go talk to her, let her know the possibilities you can provide her.” Mrs. Cooper said apologetically as they continued to leave. “Thank you, there is no need. We’ll just go with the other option” Mr. Anderson said. “I’ll be in touch.” Letting the moment breath, Mrs. Cooper standing in the doorway, shot Alex a stern look before walking off. She headed towards Alex’s room with the girl slowly following behind. Stopping in front of the door, she looked directly at Alex. “The other girls won’t be staying in this room tonight, take the time to reflect on the opportunity you just gave up.” She sighed, putting he hand on her face. “I made you some food earlier and left it in fridge, I don’t want to see you out of your room tonight, you’re lucky I already made that food or you wouldn’t be eating tonight.” With that, she turned around and left, clearly in a foul mood. Alex didn’t say anything as her walked away. Alex was looking forward to being left alone and returned to her previous activity prior to being interrupted. Alex took care of herself in record time. After laying there, staring at the bunk above her, the tingling having left her body, her stomach was letting her know it was food time. She went to the kitchen and grabbed the plastic container out of the fridge with her name on it. She opened it up to reveal a surprising good looking chili. After heating it up, she went back to her room and began to dig in. She was almost done when she started to feel drowsy. Standing up, she felt really dizzy, she sat back down right where she was, on the floor, with a thud. Her vision was starting to get blurry, a buzzing was enveloping in her ears, and then she couldn’t see at all, everything was going dark.

*Future me here, this is the first story I wrote on here and therefore, there are many things that are different. First, like many of the other Diaper Dimension stories, this story may contain elements that some may find unnerving or even unsettling to read about. I do not agree with these methods, but I have included them because I also know they make some pretty good fiction. Additionally, there is a soft sequel to this one which can be found at the following link: https://www.dailydiapers.com/board/index.php?/topic/90405-dashs-redemption-a-stuffys-tale-and-diaper-dimension-story-chapter-15-complete/ Chapter 1: The Trio in the House “Hey there. I’m Hopper and this is the nursery.” I’m standing in a typical nursery meant for any baby boy. Fully stocked, practical and cute. Little cartoon boats even dot the walls. “It might not be a thing out of place in scores of households in other dimensions, but this isn’t the typical dimension you might have been expecting. Sure, there are cars, postmen, government issues and scandals, the weather still rains and shines alike, and the average person here looks very much like most others do, with one exception; their height. At least compared to most other places. This dimension has come to be known by many names, but I know most in other dimensions refer to this as the Amazon dimension.” I pause for a moment. “Get it? They’re super tall, and that’s the big difference here. Along with their amazing technology, they’re almost twice the size of 90% of the other dimensions out there.” I pause for a moment. “Let me know if I need to take a breath or anything. I know it can be a bit jarring for some at first.” “Me, personally, I don’t really care about those things and the vector energy pathways separating out the dimensions from one another. Leave that to the politicians claiming other worlds and the scientists bridging the gaps. I really only care about a few of my friends and the two other people who live in this house with me; Monica and Charles… well, Charley.” “Now hold still Charley,” a forceful yet calm, sing-song voice echoes through the hallway outside the nursery from the bathroom. “That would be Monica. She’s the head of this house and what people here refer to as a Big. She’s right about average at 10 feet tall and certainly turns heads when walking into a room for her regal and yet almost farmer’s daughter looks. It’s an odd combination, but she definitely makes it work. I know Charley had a bit of a crush on her at one point in the beginning… but that was a long time ago now.” I look at the darkly stained oak crib to my left, standing as just one of the monuments to the changes that had occurred since I had come into this house. I shake my head. Such ideas don’t help anyone. “Despite her being a Big, and all that entails here with the ‘mommy instincts,’” using air quotes as best I can, “she’s sadly probably one of the more level-headed Bigs one would find in this dimension. Most treat their charges as their relative heights would suggest. If that means drooling on the carpet and laughing at silly infantile games, so be it. Monica may stoop occasionally, but Charley is at least still aware of what’s around him currently.” A high-pitched laugh bounces off the corners of the house. It seems pained and joyful at the same time. “Ah… tickle time. Monica’s newfound joy in life with Charles and one of her ‘stooping’ moments.” I listen to the continuing peals of laughter coming from the bathroom. “She must really be going at him today if he’s laughing that much. Probably needed a pick me up this morning. Almost seems like he needs them a bit every once in a while now since… well, Dash.” I shake my head again, now trying to dispel his image out of my head. “Anyway, for all the normies not in the Guinness World Record books or who aren’t natives, I will assume most people you know would be classified like Charley: a Little. I suppose some of the more blessed individuals could be considered in the middle category, but if you’re below 6 feet, don’t even think about trying to pass as a Middle. The Bigs will spot those people a mile away and punish them for lying. Most of the time, by the end, the liars will care more about the rattle in front of them than a few measly inches and the possibility about being labeled as a Middle. Lying is never good, particularly with this society.” “Charley, or Charles back when I first met him, was 5’9” on a good day before he shrunk a few inches on the trip over here, so he never had a chance with the Bigs, which is how he came to be living under Monica’s roof in the first place. Some trip with sapphire? Ruby? Emerald? I can’t remember, but he became just another missing tourist statistic in that tour group. Since then, he’s been Charles, Charley, C-Man, Honey, Sweetie, baby, darling, and a dozen or more names. We’ve been together since almost the beginning, so I would know.” “Too much? That’s fine, just call him Charley. It’s officially Charles but that name went out with the rest of the items considered at all mature.” I take a breath and then continue. “It took some time for us to become friends, but once we did, we became inseparable. Going through all he did, a friend is a critical element. He sought comfort with me, more than anyone else. A bond like that can only grow from such circumstances.” I pause and try not to get emotional over talking about the past. It’s tough when viewing all the changes firsthand. “Anyway, I admired his intellect, stubbornness, reserved dignity, and strong creative streak. He admired my calm, superb listening skills, and if he will admit it or not, my fur.” I pause to emphasize what I had just said. “That’s right, my fur. You see, I’m the third in this little trio, but I’m neither Big nor Little. Not even a Middle. I’m a stuffed animal… a bunny to be more precise. Obvious when you look at me, I know, but it’s an important factor to know before I tell you anymore.” I straighten up and flex out my diminutive fluffy figure. “Name’s Hop, or Hopper. Charley named me that the first day we met. Not the most creative of name choices, but I think he just wanted Monica to leave be that night. If I’m being honest, that name was probably for the best, as it could still be used once Monica’s plans had come to fruition. I see the looks in other carer’s eyes when some of my friends are still being called adult names. A turtle named Gunther can only last so long with a regressed Little. Imagine trying to say that with a pacifier in your mouth or when your teeth have been pulled in the more extreme of cases. It’s not a pretty sight. Not that Hopper is any easier, but it’s at least more passable. But Hop, well, Hop is perfect. Definitely more than Mister Bunny, my original store name you see.” I shake my appendages out from sitting nestled against the crib for some time. “Come on with me. Daily stretching time. You see, a toy here can never be too careful to blend in. Society can’t know about toys being real and all. Imagine the paranoia.” I shudder as I begin to stretch at the mere thought. “Talk about yikes. These people are crazy enough as it is, so you don’t want to add to that pile, but still, you’ve got to take your breaks where you can.” I flex my arms out and check my fragile and more recent stitching under my arm. “Can never be too careful as a toy either. This world is hard for a Little, but it can be an outright deathtrap for a toy…” “Take that Captain Purple Beard!” Monica shouted from the bathroom. “No mommy! Never!” Tickle time had apparently ended. Playing with bath toys always came next. “Moving on… I know not all toys have this life though. When I was at the mall, I met the lost and found toys at night. Some had come accompanying children and others had been with adults or even the kids from the other dimensions. Why someone would bring their kid here is beyond me, but in they came, so losing a toy was pretty easy to do. We always felt bad for the adult toys however, because if any Big caught an adult carrying a toy… well, it’s basically a giant beacon advertising that Little wants to be adopted… Those toys were often never claimed or saw their owners again. Probably for the best from what I’ve seen. A toy can feel just as sad over a loss, you know?” “I couldn’t believe some of the toys in there. They were so high and mighty because they thought they were celebrities. Apparently, their dimension had this whole franchise about toys coming to life. It’s tough to imagine an entire society knowing that toys were truly alive, but it always got confirmed that everyone thought it was just from the mind of a really creative team and not something that could ever truly happen. That is at least once you got them talking for a bit and not just bragging. In the end, if any of those toys actually ever were retrieved, they usually never wanted to come back and preferred their own dimension over ours. Can’t blame them there.” I stretch one ear and then the other, and they flutter slightly as they both reach their furthest point. “Oh yeah. That’s the spot… where was I?” I pause for a moment and collect my thoughts. “Oh, yes! Not every toy is cut out for this dimension, but there are some pretty big positives. In other dimensions, toys are used until they break, or the child grows up. If they’re lucky, they’ll be donated to a new owner to start the cycle again or be placed in storage. The unlucky ones get dumped and ruined to the point where no child would ever want to play with them, which inevitably leads to them rotting away in a dump or worse… being incinerated.” I shudder in fear at the thought. “Fortunately, here, a Little growing up is practically unheard of. The love of a Little could last decades, and most toys only fade away after completely wearing out or if their Little passes away.” Charley laughs again from the bathroom and reminds me of how we got here in the first place. Why a nursery was even in this house in the first place. I look at the ground in shame and regret. “I can’t lie though…” I let out a big sigh and lean back into the changing table nearby, “sometimes, being a toy here is tough. All other toys’ main objective is creating joy and love in a child’s life and to be loved and cherished back. In the past five years though, toys here have another purpose. We’re now equipped with subliminal messages we have to use on the Littles. Most Bigs don’t realize the messaging is in all toys now, though many of them know at least of the possibility of having similar technology in the specially marked toys. The Mister Cuddles Bear line was extremely popular about three years ago. It alone could regress a Little in under a month after being prompted to do so by the Big. Most Littles didn’t know about the technology until it was too late. They would cling to their one unjudging friend, and it would be all over. Seek comfort after a tough day of mentally regressing and the bear would only further the cycle and send them further downward. Poor little tykes.” “Due to this new technology though, all toys now have a primary mission of using their messaging, or other bits of regressive technology, on their Littles until the desired regression has been achieved. Once it has, we become like any other toy, but our primary mission still hangs over us like a dark cloud of guilt. How could a toy profess to love and care for their Little when every day with them will just lead the Little back to their early childhood or earlier? It’s a question every toy now asks themselves and then must live with afterward. I envy anyone like you that doesn’t have to worry about that in their lives. The ones that see a Little after they’ve been regressed…” Oh god! Please help me, Hop. I don’t know if I can make it through this… Please don’t let her take me… take my mind. Oh. Oh no! Anything but that. Not now! The memory strikes deep within me. It passes in a moment but the pangs of guilt are still there. I glance around the baby blue nursery and infantile accoutrements laid before me with regret. “This is what I must live with now. It wasn’t all me, but I started the process, and I can’t escape it. This room was once classified as a ‘big boys’ room. Charles cringed at that for the longest time… until he didn’t, when he became Charley.” Despite the cartoon characters on the walls and clothing suited for someone under eight, it seemed practically adult compared to where I was standing now. A long changing table packed with diapers and everything else one needs to facilitate those with a Little; a tall and inescapable crib, a bouncer, a rocking chair strong and wide enough for any Big to cuddle with their Little on, a toy chest packed with items only Littles could treasure, and a small bookcase filled with books, where those at the top could be read by a Big and those at the bottom could really only be looked at by Littles. “I miss the ‘big boy’ room.” “I can’t say that I do…” a voice says from above. “I can’t blame you there, Sandy,” I say to the moon-shaped nightlight perched at the top of the dresser. “You only came in when Charley started getting afraid of the dark again. That was right when all this started to change.” “Yep. I would have loved to have met ‘Charles.’ But hey, at least you get to play with him…” “Very true, Sandy. Very true.” I pause and see his faint glow in the dim room of the afternoon. “Charley definitely appreciates you though.” “Right as always, Hop,” he replies back. “The little bugger loves my safety at night. Can’t blame a Little for that.” He’s right and I settle fully back against the changing table and smell the cacophony of nursery-associated smells. I focus on the sweeter ones of clean linen and baby powder to distract myself. “Anyway, regardless of what this place looks like now, I remember what it used to look like when I came home from the mall with Monica. Back before…” I gesture around the nursery, “all this.”

Note: All characters are meant to be depicted as over 18. This story is fictional. It involves non-consensual diapering, blackmail, attempted sexual abuse, and spanking, so proceed cautiously. I wrote this somewhere around 1995, posting it in a chatroom board called alt.sex.fetish.diapers. Then I got busy with medical residency and raising a young family. In the decades since, there have apparently still persisted some abridged copies of it around the web. I guess posting it here is an attempt to preserve the original story. It has been revised now that spell-check exists, but the dark plot lives on, so ABs may want to look elsewhere. Back then, there were still paper medical charts and mercury thermometers, and “personal” grooming was uncommon (or at least not talked about). It was before chastity devices were widely available or affordable. It takes place just before the internet and cell phones revolutionized both communication and shopping for diapers. It was also before there were diaper companies that catered to the ABDL community. This story is about a company that would have been pioneers in the field, but not in a good way… Chapter 1 Doug Easton paused, as he often did, as he entered The Drugstore. Did he really want to do this? He was twenty-eight years old, and had a lot to lose if he was caught. After several years of working on Wall Street after college, he’d decided that he wanted to switch gears totally and get into a basic science graduate program, get his Ph.D. and teach or do research or something interesting and not so stressful. Doug had come to this mid-sized town on the eastern seaboard because it had such an excellent program. He’d taken the pre-reqs and gotten a job in the lab where he wanted to work as a grad student, as a way of networking his way into a position in the program. It was now October, and he’d worked for several months now. It looked very promising. He simply had to take the GRE’s on Saturday, a week from today, and do well enough not to embarrass himself, and the odds were that he would be accepted for the following year. He had a lot riding on getting in, since he’d sacrificed so much to get to this point. It would be horrible to screw it up now. But he’d shopped for diapers to satisfy his part-time fetish for so many years now, he knew he had little to fear. No one yet had bothered him or asked him to explain his purchases. He’d never run into anyone important. When he’d started buying disposable diapers in pharmacies several years ago, he’d always been sure to have a good story on hand in case the cashier got curious. He could never decide whether to use the one about having a sick grandparent or the riskier and more embarrassing one about having an intermittent medical problem. But he’d never had to use a story: no one had ever asked why he was buying the diapers. This always disappointed him in a way, as part of the fun of buying the diapers was the implied humiliating nature of the purchase. Later, as he got bolder, he would heighten his excitement by shopping for diapers or pads while wearing one, and he was careful to make it not so obvious that anyone would notice (he thought) but that if given a clue (e.g. shopping in the incontinence section) another shopper or a clerk might put the crinkly sound together with the bulge and the slight waddle. And still no one ever commented or even looked at him strangely, so he’d long since assumed that people were simply too self-absorbed and not observant enough. Some of the thrill of the purchase had departed for him; today he hadn’t even bothered with wearing a diaper. He put any nervousness he had aside and stepped further into the store. What he saw amazed him. The incontinence section was larger than any Doug had ever seen. Instead of being set off by itself in a little corner of the store, it was smack in the middle. As he cautiously approached it, he could see shelves of large, plump plastic bags awaiting him, and he felt that familiar excitement. The aisles were wide, and the intervening shelves fairly short, so as he entered the first aisle he was acutely aware of how visible he was. He was in plain view of the rest of the store, and felt a little more vulnerable than he liked. He looked around, though, and no one else seemed to be around, not even sales people. He wondered briefly how such a large store could stay in business. He should have given it more thought, as it turned out. He shook off his nerves, and went about his routine of cataloguing the store’s inventory in his head. In most stores this was easy-no more than two brands of diapers, and usually the same two everywhere. But here, the supply was vast, with many brands of which he had never even heard. He was disoriented, and, in the end, completely startled when his reverie was interrupted by a female voice behind him. “Can I help you?” He whirled around, and saw a lady in her late fifties with a kind-looking face and a helpful expression. “What?” he stammered. “I said, can I help you, young man?” she repeated. “Oh,” he said, too threatened to think clearly. “No. Thank you. I’m, uh, fine.” But she was persistent, to his surprise and dismay. “Is there anything I can help you find?” “No, no,” he said, trying to be nonchalant. “I’m just…looking around.” He only realized after he said it how ridiculous that sounded in an incontinence section. He blushed a bright red. But she smiled warmly, as if she’d heard this before. She stepped closer to him and lowered her voice, though the store was still empty. “Sir, there are only two reasons why anyone ever shops in this section. One, they are looking for a specific item, or two, they have a specific problem they need to solve… Okay? Now, you look a little embarrassed to be here and perhaps anxious to get out in a hurry. Am I right?” He nodded as if in a trance. This had never happened before, he was dazed, and he had no idea where this was all headed. She smiled in response and touched his arm. “All right, well, I can help you do either thing faster and more efficiently, so that you can leave sooner,” she said conspiratorially. “If you need to find a certain item, I can show you quickly where it is, so you can make your purchase and get out. Do you know exactly what you need?” He realized that she wanted the specific brand name of a product. He wasn’t sure, of course, what they had, or even what he wanted to walk out of here with. So he said, truthfully, “Not really.” She then smiled another smile, one that was intended to give him moral support for whatever problem she figured he’d just discovered he had. “In that case, I can be of even more help. I can show you what we have, tell you what the differences are, and we can decide together what product will best suit your needs.” She was walking toward a section labeled, “Adult Incontinence”. “Now, I don’t have to tell you how important a custom fit is when it comes to wetting: I know you want a product that will always keep you dry. I guess we both know that accidents are even more embarrassing than shopping for diapers. Am I right?” she asked, nodding sympathetically. He found himself nodding along with her, since that’s what she clearly wanted him to do, even as he wondered how she knew what accidents were like, and even though he had never had an “accident” that wasn’t on purpose. He was starting to feel many different and conflicting emotions: he was definitely curious how this encounter might turn out, but he was also petrified at the thought of admitting to anyone an interest in diapers. And under it all ran a strong current of sexual excitement and more than a little tinge of humiliation. But then, he reminded himself, that’s why he was here. He decided to go with the flow and see where the tide took him. It was a decision he would later regret. “So let me orient you to the different levels of protection we have. Then we can decide what level will be best for you and take it from there.” This idea produced some anxiety, but he had never acted on his fantasy like this, and all he could think about was how this would provide him excellent fantasy fodder for weeks to come. He tried to settle himself down and act calm. Turning, and indicating a smaller package, she said, “There are three levels, generally, of protection. Most people with your…problem…” and here he blushed again, “find that the first level, pads or guards like these, is all they need. It just tapes into your underpants, and you often can’t even notice it’s there.” He smiled to himself and wondered what good that would do him! “But it can protect you against the little accidents a lot of people have, but not if you wet heavily,” she explained. “Is this the sort of product you might need?” she asked, nodding again, and clearly expecting him to again nod back. And he was half tempted to say yes, because her references to his “little problem” were growing very embarrassing for him. But if he bailed out now, not only would he be wasting his money, but he wouldn’t be able to return in the future to this beautiful store for what he really wanted. This older lady was clearly the keeper of the diapers, and if he wanted to shop here, he’d obviously have to do it in her company. He looked away, frowned, and shook his head slightly in some shame. She was a little surprised, and was tempted to glance down at his shorts for evidence that he was wearing anything more substantial than pads. She knew what to look for, but hadn’t yet with him because she’d assumed, since he looked young and healthy, that his problem was minimal. And maybe it still was. So instead of examining him with her practiced eye, she just went on. This guy was very probably insecure, and didn’t need something bulkier. But perhaps by describing them to him, she could steer him away from wearing something that was too noticeable. “Well, of course. But the next level is a type of pull-up, like small children wear. Companies call them ‘underwear’ but they are really a type of pull-on diaper. These are usually not too bulky, and they’re quiet. Most people wouldn’t be able to tell you are wearing one. Mostly, I see elderly folks buying these, not young healthy men. “One of the downsides to using this type of product is that, if you are out and about and need a change because of an accident, you’d have to take off your shoes and pants to put a dry one on. But it can hold more than a pad.” She paused and looked at him, wanting him to get the point. “You see what I mean? It’s a big step up, and maybe more than you need. As I said, the vast majority of wetters just need a pad or guard. Want to try one of those?” He felt the weight of her pressure, but he was too close now. His mind whirled with what she might infer. “No, actually, could you go over the third level?” he nearly whispered to the floor. This time he saw her instinctively glance at his shorts, obviously looking for signs of a diaper under his clothes. But there was nothing. If he was incontinent enough to need a full diaper, why was he not wearing protection now? She allowed a concerned look to cross her face, and she wondered how this could be happening again, with another young man. Her tone now tinged with a little frustration, she said, “Well, the third level is the brief, or the adult diaper. And they are for invalids, mostly. They are taped on with refastenable tapes and worn just like a baby diaper.” As she said this, she realized how much she wanted this obviously functional man to buy something else. “They usually have a strip to tell people if you’re wet or dry, just like for babies, and the legs have elastic gathers to stop leaks. I’ll admit that they are the only product that offers total protection, either for heavy wetting or for bowel control problems. But as you can see, these ‘briefs’ are really reserved for someone who is completely diaper-dependent, and not for someone with...an apparently good quality of life.” She took a breath. She was wound up. She had to give this guy good advice. If he was a regular diaper-wearer, well, that would be different, but this healthy, currently-undiapered young man shouldn’t need big babyish protection. “You see, they are almost always visible under your clothing. Diaper-wearers are simply unable to conceal them well enough. Some people may deny it, but I’m here to tell you I can always spot 'em. Plus, you’d have to waddle a little with any of the diapers I’d sell you, and it is fairly obvious to a trained eye. And then there’s the give-away sound: nothing sounds like a diaper.” She paused again. Maybe she’d gone too far. Some people did need this protection, and it worked for them. But she did feel strongly about fitting the right product to the right customer. She composed herself, and went on, “So you see, you are looking for the least bulky product that will still do the job. Which will it be, so we can get you out of here?” He had endured the lesson with patience and a bit of excitement. Based on what this lady had said, maybe diapers WERE visible and audible to other people. Maybe he SHOULD have been more humiliated to wear them out. He’d have to think about that. But meanwhile, he had to end this. He glanced at her quickly and forced out the words he’d been destined to say. “I think I, uh, probably need to, um, get the briefs.” He stared very hard at the floor. She blinked. "Really? Are you sure? Most people either pick pads or guards. Briefs are the diapers, and you only wear them if you have bowel control problems or very bad bladder control problems. When he didn’t answer, she clarified, “I only ask because, if you really needed diapers, you wouldn’t just walk into a store without one on. I can see that you are not wearing a brief right now,” she explained with a pointed look toward his crotch that made him blush. He coughed. This was getting more and more embarrassing. “I really think I need the briefs.” There was a long pause as she tried to divine what was going through his mind. “Is this, um, problem a relatively recent one?” she asked. He nodded hesitantly. He didn’t know where she was leading, and was unsure of what his “story” should be. He was really in virgin territory at this point. It was pretty exciting. “So you haven’t tried a lot of these products, have you?” she said, thinking she was beginning to understand. He nodded again, deciding that could make sense. It would explain why he didn’t know what he wanted. “No, I thought not,” she said, smiling and with compassion. “A beginner. So let’s talk about your needs. Now,” she said, wanting to pin this boy’s problem down a little better, “what specific problem are we treating? Do you wet your pants?” Uh-oh, this was going to get detailed, he thought. Again he was torn: anxious about having a believable story, but enthralled with the idea of a stranger thinking he needed diapers. Unfortunately for Doug, there was no way he could know this was the last person he should try to convince. He just nodded, unable to meet her eyes. Okay, okay, she thought. Now they were getting somewhere. “Oh, that’s all right, sweetie. It’s common, and I sort of figured as much, for otherwise you wouldn’t be here. I can help you. When you have an accident, is it a lot of leakage, or just a little at a time?” Doug knew what the answer must be to get diapers. He swallowed. “A lot.” She nodded, taking it in. “And what about messy accidents? Do you have problems with your bowels?” The silence hung heavy as he considered. He wasn’t sure if he needed to confess to this, too, or not. Maybe the heavy wetting would be enough? But in the end, he didn’t want to take the chance. Holy cow, he thought, this was indeed humiliating. He dropped his eyes again and nodded. A grown man, admitting that he messed his pants. He felt all of two years old. And not surprisingly, there was a long silence afterward, as she tried to judge whether or not to believe him. That would certainly be serious if true. “Have you seen a doctor?” she asked with concern. “Yes,” he said, having to clear his throat first. He still couldn’t look at her. “He, um, said it would take a couple months until we, um, got it all worked out, so he sent me here.” “Oh,” she said, seeing this in a much different light. “Why didn’t you say so in the first place?” This boy did need some serious protection. “Hmmmm. Are you wearing anything at all right now under your pants?” He froze, realizing that his not wearing a diaper out now seemed sort of stupid. But best be honest, he thought: I bet this lady could tell. “Nothing right now,” he said, trying to think quickly. “Well, I had some, but then I ran out.” She clucked at him reprovingly. This boy either wasn’t too bright or was irresponsible. That was a setup for a bad outcome. This lad needed her help. It seemed to her this was happening more and more to her. Since they had expanded their incontinence section, more and more younger men were wandering into her shop, and they seemed to need a strong hand. But that was fine: she knew how to take care of them, and if she couldn’t, she knew someone who certainly could. This boy clearly needed some direction. “Okay, well, we’ll get you all squared away, but first things first. With a problem like yours, we’ll need to get you into something right now so you don’t have an accident while we’re deciding, or on your ride home.” She paused to check his reaction. He looked a little uncomfortable with her apparently taking charge, but he didn’t say anything. And since this was really not the time to discuss who should make the decisions (she didn’t want to deal with an accident here), she went right on, in a maternal tone: “Someone who wets and messes his pants needs to wear a diaper all the time. All the time,” she repeated with emphasis. “Otherwise, you could have an accident right now, which would be more embarrassing and harder to clean up than a wet or messy diaper. So we need to put one on right now, without arguing. If you’re a good boy and put a diaper on, then we can talk afterward and decide what you’d like to wear in the future.” She watched him closely for signs of resistance. He was looking more uncomfortable, shifting his weight nervously, but he was not objecting. She went on. “Luckily, I always keep a couple samples in the back, for emergencies like this. You can use the storeroom to change.” Without waiting for a reply, she smiled, took his hand, and led him quickly to a door marked “Employees Only.” He looked a little alarmed but was still being compliant. In fact, though, Doug wasn’t sure he’d be able to keep his composure. This was so much more than he’d ever actually dreamed could happen that he didn’t know what to feel. Excited, of course, but frightened. Would she diaper him? Was there anyone else in the back room? What was he getting himself into? No, he thought, that’s ridiculous. This is just an odd business transaction by a grandmotherly lady who is being misled. It’s funny and thrilling, but hardly dangerous. As he would later find, this was completely false. Some might argue that he could at this point still have escaped what was to happen to him, but this is probably not true. Nor is it even relevant. He had no inkling that with every complacent step he was getting closer and closer to the fearful prospect of having his lifelong fantasy become a lifelong reality. He needn’t have worried about one thing, though. She wasn’t planning on diapering him. As she walked him down a back hall to a doorway marked “CLEAN SUPPLIES,” she said, “Now do you put your own diapers on at home? You do? Okay, well, why don’t you try to put the brief on yourself, then, and see how you do.” She opened the door with one of many keys she had dangling from a large keychain, and led the way into the room. It was partially full with many crates and boxes such as you’d expect in a drugstore. She walked over to a shelf with several plastic packages on it and rummaged through them until she found one marked, “BRIEF, LARGE-ADULT DIAPERS,” from which she pulled a large plastic disposable. She also picked up a container of baby powder and brought both over to him. As he tentatively accepted them, she said, “Now I’ll just wait outside while you put it on. I don’t know what you do at home, but I recommend lots of powder. It’s hot out, and you’ll appreciate it later. When you’re done, just open the door, and I’ll come in and check to make sure it’s on correctly. That’s very important, you know. So come get me before you pull your pants up, okay?” She stepped out and closed the door before he could even respond, leaving him alone with a diaper and powder in hand. Once again he questioned himself about whether he wasn’t already in too deep. But it almost doesn’t matter, he thought to himself. She probably won’t even let me out of here now without a diaper. Holy shit! I’m way too good at lying for my own good. He sighed, and was about to unbuckle his pants when there was a sharp knock on the door followed by the lady poking her head in, and seeing him still dressed and holding the diaper, said, “Are you okay? Need help?” He shook his head firmly. She frowned slightly, and said, “Okay, but hurry it up. We can’t waste time with you not in diapers. I’ll check back in another minute or two, and if you’re not done, I’ll give you a hand.” She shut the door again. So now, of course, he hurried. He definitely wasn’t psychologically prepared today to be diapered by someone else. This as all too sudden. He unfolded the diaper and set it down on the cold cement floor. He hadn’t ever been able to put a diaper on standing up. So he unbuckled his pants and pulled them down around his ankles, and, glancing needlessly around, did the same to his underpants. He sprinkled the diaper with powder and then gingerly sat down on it. He pulled the diaper up between his legs, and quickly taped it rather haphazardly. It wasn’t a good job, but he wanted to be dressed again by the time the lady came back. He stood up and pulled up his underpants and pants over the diaper. The diaper fit well, and it was fairly bulky, though he’d made thicker ones for himself on occasion using pads for stuffers. As he was rebuckling his pants, she burst through the door unannounced. She appraised the new bulk between his legs, then strode over to him, saying, cheerfully, “Whoa! Slow down, cowboy! Let’s just check the job you did before you buckle up.” She reached toward his pants with purpose, brushing aside his hands, which had moved protectively toward his groin in a meek attempt to intercede. Before he knew it, his pants and underpants were back down around his ankles, and she was crouched in front of him examining his poor handiwork. He felt the blood drain from his head and began to feel dizzy. He felt like he should object, but he felt weak and sort of lost. He couldn’t think of anything to say in a moment like this. So he stood there as she inspected his diaper. “Hmmmm,” she commented. “At least it is on straight, and not backwards, but the taping leaves a bit to be desired. Hold this,” she said brusquely, as she undid the tapes on one side. She tightened and adjusted both sides, afterward slipping her fingers well inside the leg gathers on both sides to check the fit. He couldn’t help squirming a little, and had to be told to stand still. Finally she was satisfied, and showed him what she had done so he could do it better the next time. She was about to pull his pants back up for him when she saw his underpants, white briefs, around his ankles. She laughed. “Well, you hardly need those on now, do you? Let’s get those off so they don’t get all stretched out over the diaper, okay?” And without waiting for a response, she untied his shoes, had him slip them off, and pulled the pants and underpants off, then replaced the pants and shoes, even tying them for him. This made him feel more like a little boy than he had in a long time. “You said your wetting and soiling problem is only temporary, right? Well, then, we’ll let you have these back for several months down the line.” Humiliated as he’d never been before, he took his underpants from her and balled them up in his hand. His shorts pockets were now too tight for him to tuck them in there. He’d have to carry them home in his hand. Could this get more embarrassing? She didn’t notice his distress, however, for she was nearly out the storeroom door. “Come on,” she called. “Time to get you something for later.” He tried to follow at her speed, but found that this was a fairly thick diaper. The bulk made him waddle slightly, but he didn’t think it was that noticeable. When she got to the door back to the main store, though, she turned and watched him as she waited. He was pretty cute, she thought. Actually, she thought they were all cute the way they had to waddle like babies. And to be honest, she had to admit that part of her liked babying them: she loved the diapers, the powder and lotions, the smells, the mothering. Of course, that was not why she did it, and it was not why she’d set up the ICPs with Mrs. Warren. But it was part of what made it enjoyable for her. Anyway, she knew he’d be self-conscious, so she tried not to smile at his obvious struggle to walk normally. He reached her in a moment, and as they returned to the store, he glanced around nervously to see if anyone was there to notice the newly-diapered boy waddle in with his old underpants in hand. There was only an older man clear at the other end of the store; he probably couldn’t see this far. But then he noticed a tall brunette in the corner back and to the right, near the pharmacy. She looked like she was in her forties, was beautiful, but also strongly built. And she appeared to be watching him very closely. He thought he saw the older lady he was with catching the tall lady’s eye for a moment, and maybe even nod at her. But he wasn’t sure if he made that up. He sure could be self-conscious when he wore a diaper! He took one last look at the lady before he turned down the diaper aisle, and noticed a curl of a smile at one end of her mouth, as if she were amused. Could she tell he was wearing a diaper? Kind of a thrilling thought. She was pretty. But his attention was quickly drawn to the shelf his guide was presenting to him. This was where he had longed to be from the moment he had walked in the store. He longed to be left alone here to read the packages and look at pictures. But she was here, and very much in control of his shopping. “Okay, this shouldn’t be hard,” she said. “The most important thing is, is cost very important to you?” He nodded with conviction. He was a student, living on a student’s budget. She nodded back thoughtfully. “Well, then I think we’ll try you with a package of those generics you’re wearing. I thought the fit was good. Are they comfortable?” He nodded stiffly. He wasn’t used to discussing his diaper comfort with others. “Good. They are good diapers, just as good as the name brands, in my opinion. Try those, and see how they do for you.” She picked out a huge package of the generics-again he noticed the label, “BRIEF, LARGE-ADULT DIAPERS” in large block lettering on the side. That would be fun to carry to his car and inside his apartment. He took it from her, and followed her up to the cash register at the front of the store. He set the package on the counter as she rang it up, setting his underpants next to it on the counter for a moment, while he pulled out his wallet, careful to hunt for and pay with cash so that he wouldn’t leave a paper trail. She watched him find the correct change from the little change compartment in his wallet. He gave her the money, and she handed him a receipt. Then she leaned over the counter and said to him in that condescending tone again, “I think this will get easier for you with time. Now, I think these diapers will help you with your problem, but you’ve got to wear them all the time for them to help. You hear me?” She looked at him sternly. “All the time. See how you like them, and when you only have a few left-BEFORE you run out, come back in and we’ll get you some more.” He nodded obediently. Just needed to get out of here now. “Yes, ma’am, I will.” She was staring at him intently now. “But don’t come back in here without a diaper on, or I’ll do more to your bottom in that back storeroom than just put it in a diaper. Okay?” He nodded to her, his eyes widening. Was she...threatening to spank him? He’d had way too much “fun” for one day. Time to agree and get home. “Okay. Thank you. Have a good day.” He grabbed his hard-won purchase and underpants and left the store, only noticing once he was outside that she hadn’t even offered him a bag. As he walked away, he let out a deep breath. That had to have been the most amazing fantasy ever. And he’d navigated his way through it perfectly, coming away unscathed, with a bag of diapers to boot! Pretty good, he thought, for his first time to that store. For his ONLY time, he thought to himself. He’d not go there again. It was just too anxiety-provoking. But he’d done it today, and now he was safe. He did feel sorry for the lady whom he had deceived so perfectly, however. But only briefly. As she watched him waddle away from her, out to his car and climb in, Mrs. Sheffield reflected on the odd number of totally incontinent young men she had as clients. She’d noticed a preponderance of men as soon as Mrs. Warren had convinced her to stock more of the briefs, and it seemed that, as they continued to expand their product offerings, more and more came in. Most were fairly resistant to her intrusion, but she didn’t care. She was actually a very nice, compassionate older lady who always felt sorry, first and foremost, for her clients. But her experiences with a “late-blooming” son years before had convinced her that incontinence was a problem that needed to be treated. Her son had had several fairly public accidents in elementary school that had led to other kids making fun of him. She hadn’t wanted to diaper him, thinking that would make things worse, but as he grew and the teasing continued well past the time when he never wet his pants anymore, she began to blame herself for his being socially ostracized. She’d vowed to herself, though she hadn’t seen the implications for her drugstore business at the time, that if she ever found an opportunity to step in and help an incontinent person again, she would. At any age, she thought, diapering was far more benign than even occasional accidents, and she had seen the damage firsthand and had to live with the guilt. These days, she made sure that no incontinent boy left her sight without a diaper on, even if they objected. “They just don’t know,” she whispered to herself, “what the alternative is. Owning up to their need for diapers is the best thing they could do for themselves.” It was this attitude that made Mrs. Sheffield run her business the way she did. And it was this attitude, she couldn’t know, which had doomed many young men to lives of unhappiness and even far worse social isolation than she could have anticipated. But, then, at least her intentions were good. It was actually Mrs. Warren who was much more to blame. She looked down at the name and address she had copied down quickly as this latest boy had opened his wallet to pay her for what he thought was the last purchase he would make from her. He was wrong, of course, though he wouldn’t know this for several days. Doug. Doug Easton. He’d seemed nice. She wrote a note for herself to make sure she followed up on him. Nice boy, but he needed her. Chapter 2 On Monday, about two days and four diapers later, Doug was watching TV before bed, undiapered. He’d just finished a day of reviewing for his test on Saturday. He was bright, and the studying wasn’t too hard, so it actually left him with a lot of free time compared to his usual lab schedule. This was why he’d gone out for a new supply of diapers for this week: he had plenty of time to play. And though he didn’t like to wear diapers constantly, he was enjoying wearing one or two a day. His stressful trip to that drugstore had turned out to be worth it, he thought now. He’d just put his books away for the rest of the evening when his phone rang. He answered it. “Is this Doug?” The woman’s voice was vaguely familiar, but Doug couldn’t place it. The other day’s incident at the drugstore was the last thing on his mind. “This is Mrs. Sheffield, from the drugstore? I helped you with your incontinence products several days ago, remember?” He nearly dropped the phone. His mind went blank and his fingers started tingling. Even though he was seated, he felt faint. “Uh, yes, ma’am, I remember.” His mind slowly started to crank out questions: how had she found him? Why could she be calling? “Well, it’s nice to talk to you again. I’m calling to find out how your briefs have been doing since Monday.” His mouth was dry, which made it difficult to speak. “Oh,” he croaked. “Just fine.” He was speaking on autopilot now, trying to figure out how he’d been so foolish as to leave his phone number with her. But he hadn’t! He was sure. How had she tracked him down? Mrs. Sheffield could hear the anxiety in his voice, and knew she’d have to calm him down if her approach was to work. “I hope you don’t mind me calling. Ordinarily I ask before I contact clients at home, but I forgot this time. All I want to do, though, is a little product survey, if you don’t mind. Your opinions regarding our products are very important to us, and will be used to modify our product lines and what we carry. So, I’m sorry for the intrusion but I just have a couple of questions, and the answers from you, in particular, will be very valuable.” A product survey? he thought. That sounded interesting, and didn’t seem very threatening. He relaxed, and as he did, he began touching his stiffening penis through his pajamas. This could be fun. After all, he was tucked away safely in the privacy of his own home, far away from this scary lady. And this conversation again had tremendous fantasy potential for him. In addition, maybe he really could influence what diapers were made or carried. That alone was worth a little effort. But why him? This bothered him, so he asked. “Well, actually,” she replied, “you are important because of the nature of the problem you have. You see, we don’t have too many totally incontinent clients out there who can talk and who are active.” She was not exactly being truthful, she knew, but it was excusable because she was trying to help him. She went on describing why surveys were important. He was only half listening by the end. He was too fascinated by the opportunity he had been given. He’d always felt that store-brand adult diapers were woefully inadequate in many ways that were important to a diaper lover: not bulky enough, not noisy enough, not absorbent enough, and pathetic at containing bowel movements. He knew that the majority of truly incontinent adult probably didn’t want or need these obtrusive, humiliating qualities in their diapers, but wouldn’t it be great if there was at least ONE brand that was closer to the ideal? This might be the one chance he had to help all of adult babyhood attain what most thought was unattainable. He had to give a plug for a humiliating, babyish diaper. But he couldn’t make it sound too ludicrous. His mind was working overtime trying to anticipate questions and phrase his answers with subtlety and skill. She was just finishing some comment: “So, do you think you could just answer a few questions for me?” “Of course I could,” he answered confidently, but not wanting to sound too eager. “I’d be glad to help if I can.” She heard the change in his voice and wondered briefly what it meant. She was mostly happy he was going to cooperate. She was sorry she had to mislead him here, but, after all, it was for his benefit, and they would indeed use the information he gave her! “Oh, that’s wonderful,” she said out loud. “Could you start by telling me how many diapers you use in a day?” Time to check compliance. Fine, he thought, a usage question. He expected that. But he had to guess, since he was certainly not a full-time user! He didn’t want to be; part-time fantasy was enough. “About six, I’d say.” These were generic store-brand diapers; they didn’t take more than two wettings. That sounded right, but any idiot could guess. She’d slip in a couple more compliance questions later. “Okay, and of those, how many are messy and not just wet?” That was probably easy to estimate. “Well, one or two, I suppose.” Still okay, but these were the easy questions. “Uh-huh, fine. Now, I’ve seen how these diapers fit: pretty well, I think, but how do they feel? Are they comfortable? Scratchy? Sticky even when fresh? Do they chaff?” He actually hadn’t had a complaint over the perhaps six hours he’d worn them over two days. “Oh, they’re very comfortable. No problems.” “That’s good to hear. Do you have anyone at home to help change you?” That would be great! he thought wistfully, though only halfheartedly. He didn’t really think he wanted diapers to become that central to his life. “No, I live alone,” he said out loud. Good, Mrs. Sheffield thought. That simplifies things considerably. “Okay, well, let’s talk about wetness. How absorbent do they seem? Do you have problems with leaking with very wet diapers?” She didn’t even notice she was using the “d” word. He didn’t either. He was too involved in the “survey.” "Oh, yes, all the time, " he replied honestly. “I have trouble with that with nearly every diaper. That’s a serious problem for me.” He was finding it difficult not to rub his hard penis. This was really turning him on. He had to keep it going. “Oh, dear,” she said. “That’s a shame. Of course, it probably comes from all your activity, compared to my older clients. How long after you wet do you change yourself into a dry diaper?” OK, now try to make this believable. “Well, I don’t like changing, and it’s often very inconvenient, so I try to make each diaper last as long as possible. So I guess I wait at least two hours after wetting before a change.” “Oh, my,” she exclaimed. “Isn’t that uncomfortable?” “No, not at all,” he said, trying to sound reasonable. “Until they’re VERY wet, I can’t tell they’re damp without looking. By the time I can feel it, I’ve usually leaked.” “Well, I’m not sure any other store brand would have more capacity…” she mused to herself. “Usually it’s adequate, but you are more active. The best option for you may be to add one or more pads inside the diaper, but we don’t like to do that because that makes the diaper even more bulky and noticeable than it already is.” Whoa! he thought. This was his big chance. He snorted derisively. “I’d rather have bulky than leaky.” “Really? But you don’t think they are already too bulky between your legs?” “No, not really,” he said, hoping she believed him. “I mean, I hardly even know they’re there. I don’t have to walk funny like you said. I’m sure I wouldn’t even notice another pad, or even two. But the best would obviously be a thicker diaper I don’t have to change very often.” He was lying now, and thoroughly enjoying it. This could be the perfect infantilist diaper! “Do you worry about other people noticing?” “Not really. I wear baggy clothes, and I don’t think anyone at all has noticed. I don’t see why they should.” This was excellent news for Mrs. Sheffield. Most potential clients were indeed worried about making sure their diapers were unobtrusive. He didn’t care. This should make his assimilation into the program easier. Doug noticed her pause and assumed she was having a little trouble believing that he wanted MORE bulk. He said a silent apology to all diaper-wearers who DIDN’T want people to notice, but he really hoped his cry for thicker, more babyish diapers was getting through. As if in answer, he heard her say, “OK, more bulky and absorbent so you don’t have to change as often and won’t leak. Now, are the diapers too noisy for you, or are they okay? Are you worried that people notice?” “Nah, they’re fine,” he answered gleefully. She was buying the whole thing. For a moment, though, a frightening thought flew through his mind. How truly terrifying and humiliating it would be to be stuck in diapers like the ones he was imagining. What if he were doomed to this fantasy he had always played out in his head and was now having fun pretending was real? To be locked, for instance, in huge, noisy, bulky diapers in public, to be noticed by everyone: it would suck to HAVE to wear what he was telling her he thought diapers should be. But that was what fantasy was all about, he told himself. Reality wasn’t relevant, he thought. “Well, that’s very enlightening,” Mrs. Sheffield was saying. “Most people are actually asking for less obtrusive, quieter diapers, but perhaps we should rethink creating a different line of products. if you don’t mind, let’s move on to messy diapers. Have you had any problems with leakage from messy diapers?” “I’ll say. Even worse than with the wet ones,” he said, fully within his fantasy and not feeling any embarrassment. “And, obviously, that’s a worse problem.” “Obviously,” she agreed. “And do you always wear messy diapers for two hours before changing?” “Not usually,” he answered, “but sometimes I can’t help it. Messy diapers are much more difficult to change, especially in public. I have to wait until I get home, and sometimes that takes a while.” “I see. So once again, your lifestyle conflicts with your diaper needs. Now, you do seem to be out and around a lot. Is this true? Are you out of your home most days?” “Well, usually, though this week I’m actually spending at home studying all day…” he started before he realized he’d crossed over into reality. He didn’t really want her to know anything about him. Was she probing? “So you ARE very active,” she said, and he relaxed. It had just been an innocent question, he thought incorrectly. “Well, the only suggestion I have is to wear some sort of incontinent plastic training panty over your diaper. Do you have any of those?” Surprised, he answered honestly. “Yes, two or three.” And then he remembered he was supposed to be new to this “incontinence.” How could he explain why he had plastic panties? “The, uh, doctor gave them to me to try, but I thought they were just for cloth diapers.” “In general they are, but in your case, it sounds like you could use the extra protection.” “Sounds like a good idea,” he said, not really caring. It didn’t matter what he did or didn’t promise to do. She asked several more questions he found less interesting, regarding tapes and other mundane aspects of the diapers. Finally, she asked him about the wetness indicator, another of her compliance questions. He said he liked it and that he used it often, since he wasn’t always aware of when he peed. “Hmmm,” she said. “We’re doing some research on how many little stripes an indicator should have. I’ve forgotten: how many stripes does your diaper’s indicator have? Could you look down at your diaper and tell me?” He felt a brief moment of panic. He, of course, was not wearing a diaper, and he couldn’t really remember. But he relaxed as he realized that if she’d forgotten, it didn’t matter what he said, as long as it was reasonable. “Um, it looks like one,” he said, guessing that was most common. “One? Okay, that’s exactly what I thought,” Mrs. Sheffield said with a definite air of satisfaction. Doug was happy he’d guessed right. In fact, he’d guessed wrong, and this mistake was the one Mrs. Sheffield had been looking for. It told her Doug wasn’t really wearing his diapers like he should and was therefore a definite compliance risk. That sealed it. She would definitely put him in the program. He clearly needed the little push that Mrs. Sheffield’s friend Mrs. Warren could give. Otherwise he risked having accidents. “Okay, Doug, just a few more questions. You’ve been extremely helpful. I think I know about all I need to know. But tell me, is cost an issue for you? Do you think the disposables on the market are too expensive?” What a great question. Did he EVER. He had trouble buying diapers even occasionally, and he shuddered to think what it must cost to keep someone in them full-time. On the other hand, he wasn’t really as turned on by the cloth diapers, so for him it was worth it. To her, he said, “Yes, ma’am, especially on a student’s budget.” Whoops. Another slight slip, mentioning something personal. But again, she seemed not to notice or care. “That’s what I thought. What if I offered you products that would cost a lot less? I’ve calculated your approximate cost as about $250 per month right now. What if I could offer you the same diapers for about $80 per month? Would you be interested?” That was great! He was excited, for his comments really seemed to be getting somewhere! He was striking a blow for infantilists everywhere! “Wow! Of course! That would be a lot better. But can you do that?” “Well, this is just hypothetical, of course, but, yes. Now, how many briefs do you have left?” He paused. How many SHOULD he have left? Quick arithmetic gave him his answer. “About five, I think.” “Uh-huh. So when can I expect you into the store to restock?” Whoa. Here’s where he got off the fantasy train. He couldn’t make a commitment, he knew, or this could escalate to something he couldn’t afford or keep up with. “Well, I don’t know…” “Sounds like you’d better get in here tomorrow, or you’ll be right where you were before, trying to get by with just your underpants and a prayer. Right?” “Well, uh, yes, but…” He tried to think of how to get out of this easily. She was making it tough. Mrs. Sheffield decided it was time to come clean and close the deal. She knew what she needed to know. “Doug, you had no plans to come in, did you?” “…Not really, no.” It felt better to tell the truth. And she seemed like that might be okay with her. “And you’re not wearing a diaper now, are you?” Yikes! She was sharper than he’d given her credit for. “Well, I, um…” He was shocked, but he didn’t want to admit that he wasn’t wearing a diaper now. She might not use his survey information. He didn’t know it, but he had a more important issue he should have been worrying about. “That’s what I thought. By the way, when you do look at your diaper, you’ll notice two indicator stripes.” She took a deep breath. “Now, you need to listen to me. I may have told you that I was in the business of assessing and providing for my clients needs. Well, it goes a little bit beyond just helping them find a product on the shelf.” Doug didn’t like the sound of this at all. She was no longer surveying. And she didn’t know it was only a fantasy for him. “What I actually do is run a business for people like you who are incontinent. I help them find what they need, and make sure they use it, by organizing ICP’s, which stands for Incontinence Control Programs, for them. I have a lot of clients like you who don’t seem to be able to look after themselves like they should. I worry that they’ll end up having accidents, and then lots of things in your life can go wrong.” Doug’s stomach had started churning. He had started to realize that perhaps he’d sold his story too well. “I’ve decided that you need some help with your diapers. I think we’ll need to enroll you into our program so that you can get the help you need. I work with another woman, Mrs. Warren, who actually runs the day-to-day end of things, and we’ll help keep you supplied, keep you wearing the diapers, and keep you well-behaved. And it’s all for that price I was telling you about. What do you think?” Doug knew what he thought. He thought he’d better do some confessing, or he’d find himself in far deeper than he’d thought possible. He didn’t know that it was already way too late. His silence didn’t really slow her down. "Now, I know you weren’t expecting this, and I’m sorry to spring it on you, but in the end you’ll thank me, you really will. Let me explain for you why I think you need our help. "There are four parts to any successful ICP. First, affordable cost. Second, choosing the appropriate product for your personal wetting and soiling needs. Third, accessibility: you need to be getting your diapers. Fourth, compliance. All the diapers in the world won’t keep your pants clean and dry if you’re not wearing them. "You may not have noticed, but we just completed an assessment of the ICP you had prescribed for yourself. That is, your plan of buying the diapers yourself any old time and bringing them home and wearing them occasionally. “What I found out during my assessment is that this isn’t working, regarding each of the four parts. Too expensive, too leaky, you won’t come in to buy them, and once you do, you’re just not wearing them like a good boy.” He tried to say something, but she wasn’t really slowing down. She didn’t seem to care what he had to say. This was getting absurd. “Doug, you need to face the fact that you are totally incontinent. Probably, well, hopefully, temporarily. But you desperately need a much better and structured ICP for the foreseeable future, and so the bottom line is that I’ll be supplying it for you. Believe me, this is a very good thing for you. You’ll eventually appreciate the complete protection we can offer, and we’ll also lay the groundwork for your eventual attempt at re-potty-training, if that becomes a possibility.” Doug sat listening in shock. He didn’t know what to think or feel. A tiny bit of him was intrigued and turned on by what sounded like a forced return to babyhood, or at least to diapers. But most of him was horrified at the thought of his fantasy getting out of control and effectively running the rest of his life. It didn’t sound like he’d be in control, and he knew himself: he ALWAYS had to be in control. He couldn’t even begin to process her words, for they seemed impossible, foreign, crazy. But she went on. “So after considering your needs and problems with compliance, I’ve decided to enroll you in a special diaper delivery program we offer, where I can decide the best ICP for you, and all you have to do is follow some very simple rules. You’ll pay twenty dollars each week for us to deliver a week’s worth of diapers to you, as well as the extra pads we talked about, and you’ll wear them and use them. “Mrs. Warren will check on you and make sure you are following the rules and using your diapers appropriately, and she has some very helpful disciplinary tricks to help you be obedient, which I’m sure you’ll appreciate. Then you’ll return the used diapers at the end of the week for us to count and examine, so we know you used them all week. So you see, this program is much better with regard to cost, availability, leak protection, and especially behavior control. Doesn’t it sound wonderful?” Doug felt speechless, but knew he had to speak. “Mrs., uh, Sheffield? I really appreciate your concern, but, um, well, I don’t actually think I need your help here…” Mrs. Sheffield responded with a slightly condescending tone. “Oh, but we just talked about that and decided you did. Remember?” He remembered HER talking and deciding, but he’d been left out. “Yes, but I think there has been a terrible mistake here. You see…” She interrupted again. “Don’t you worry. There’s no mistake. I’m going to help you, and you will never have to wet your pants again. Doesn’t that sound nice?” “No. I mean, yes. I mean, I don’t want your help here because…” “Doug,” Mrs. Sheffield said earnestly, "I’m sure you’re used to handling your problem on your own, but the fact is, you’re just not doing a very good job. I’m afraid you misunderstand what’s going on here. I don’t mean to be rude, but I’m really not asking you whether you’d like to participate. I’m TELLING you about the ICP that you will begin tomorrow. I’m sorry we couldn’t ask for your opinion, but by not wearing your diaper you showed me that you are not reliable enough to make these decisions for yourself. “And you’ll have to trust me here that this is not a bad thing. When you’re incontinent, there are only two things that could happen. You can either have accidents with wetting and soiling your pants, which is horrible. Or you can wear your diaper. And in this program, believe me, you will wear your diaper. Now, do you have any specific questions about your ICP that I can answer for you?” Doug was starting to panic, because she wasn’t listening to him. She was treating him like a child, which hadn’t happened to him for nearly twenty years. It was frustrating not to have control! But he had to stop this now. As embarrassing as it was, he couldn’t think of anything else but to tell her the truth. “Mrs. Sheffield, there really has been a mistake. You see, I’m actually not…” Her voice turned cold. “No, Doug, we’re not going to argue about this. This isn’t the time for that. I was asking you if you had any questions about your ICP.” “Yes, but I need to tell you that I don’t need…” “Okay, that’s enough,” said Mrs. Sheffield sternly. "If you don’t have any questions, I’ll just tell you what’s going to happen next. “Mrs. Warren will be taking over your care from now on, and she told me to tell you that she’ll be over tomorrow at about ten in the morning with your first week of diapers and other supplies. At that time she’ll explain all of the rules she has, and what you are to do, and she’ll get you into a diaper for good. “Now, you told me you’ll be home tomorrow, and that you don’t have any roommates, so I don’t expect any trouble from you about this. Ten in the morning. If you want to argue, argue with Mrs. Warren. She loves to `discuss’ things with clients, and I’m sure she’d be happy to talk with you about whether you need our diapers. So if you want to talk, save it until tomorrow. Does that sound alright?” Doug felt defeated with this woman. She wouldn’t even give him the time of day. Before, he’d been embarrassed when she’d asked him so many questions. Now she wouldn’t listen! But perhaps this other lady would. He had to have better luck with someone else. At least he’d have time to think about how he’d explain himself. “Okay,” he said. “But I’ll just tell you, I’m not doing this program thing.” “I’ll leave that for you and Mrs. Warren to work out. It’s been nice talking to you, Doug, and I’m happy to have you in our program, even though it may take a while for you to adjust to it. Oh, by the way, make sure you behave yourself with Mrs. Warren tomorrow. Of course, she’s very nice, but she doesn’t tolerate little boys who aren’t polite. Will you promise me to be polite?” What else was there to say? “Yes, ma’am.” “That’s a good boy. And promise me you’ll wear your diaper tonight?” Like hell. “Yes, ma’am.” “Okay, good. Take care until tomorrow, Doug, and please, for the sake of yourself and your underpants, wear your diaper.” As she hung up the phone, Mrs. Sheffield smiled. That had been done skillfully. She worried about cooperation with many of these boys, and so she’d adopted a strategy of getting as much info about them and their habits before breaking the news to them. None of them saw it coming, of course, and while she felt guilty deceiving them, she felt proud to offer them the protection her son never had. If she hadn’t been a very good mother to him, at least these incontinent boys would benefit from her learning. She did feel bad about one thing, though, and that was deferring Doug’s questions to Mrs. Warren, who wasn’t exactly the chatty type. She had an uneasy feeling that she was quite rough with these boys, especially the resistant or noncompliant ones. But the two women had an unspoken rule that Mrs. Warren’s methods were not talked about between them. Mrs. Sheffield thought maybe Mrs. Warren spanked them, but wasn’t sure. Mrs. Sheffield didn’t oppose spanking in principle, but she worried that her partner might go a little overboard. She had to keep reminding herself that keeping these boys in the program and in diapers as long as they were incontinent was the most important goal. And since Mrs. Warren had been running the ICPs, Mrs. Sheffield had not heard of a single problem, either from the boys or from Mrs. Warren. All of them clearly wore their diapers. So, as much as she might have worried, and probably should have worried, Mrs. Sheffield let the methods of Mrs. Warren remain a secret. As she added Doug’s name to the next day’s diaper delivery list, a curious observation popped into her mind. Like Doug, many of these boys described a “temporary” incontinence problem. She put most of them in their ICPs just to tide them over until they regained their control. Oddly, though, in the three years since she had hired Mrs. Warren to run her business, not a single one of these temporary incontinents had graduated from their program. “Oh, I know,” she lied to herself. “I bet they’re just not honest with themselves at the beginning. I’m sure they all would like to believe it’s temporary, but it makes sense that bladder and bowel incontinence doesn’t just go away. Those poor boys, denying their problem. Well, as long as they’re protected.” The boys, of course, were not the only ones practicing denial; Mrs. Sheffield had apparently learned how to convince herself there was nothing odd about the program she officially ran but knew nothing about. Mrs. Sheffield attended to the next order of business by picking up a phone and dialing the number of Mrs. Warren’s cellular phone. She wanted to make up for the fact that she’d set Doug up to take the full brunt of Mrs. Warren’s wrath tomorrow. He’d be full of excuses that she wouldn’t want to hear, and though she had thought at first that a little run-in with Mrs. Warren tomorrow might not hurt this boy a bit, the more she thought about it, the more she realized it would almost certainly hurt. Quite a bit, in a tender, likely undiapered spot. So a little intercession on her part was appropriate. She smiled when she heard Mrs. Warren answer immediately. Tomorrow would be an eventful day for Doug. Chapter 3 Doug hung up the phone slowly and just stared out into space, trying to process what had just happened. He had just been deceived and manipulated into a position from which he was now dangerously close to being out of control. In fifteen minutes he had gone from being safe and happy and insulated from this frightening woman to being fooled, humiliated, and violated by her. And supposedly thrown into some program for delinquent diaper-wearers, where he obviously did not belong. Imagine! He had misled this lady so effectively that she thought he really needed diapers! It would be laughable if it weren’t so annoying and if it didn’t seem to threaten his desire for privacy. He couldn’t even enjoy the fantasies generated by the phone call, because now he needed to think about how to get himself out of this without anyone finding out about this, and if possible, without any more embarrassment. Doug was pretty sure this adventure would end tomorrow, when he explained the reality of the situation to this Mrs. Warren. But he was most concerned about how he could end this without admitting he was just a diaper lover, which he knew was viewed by most people as perverted. If word of his kink spread, his application for the graduate program could be in jeopardy and his job at the lab ended. How could he end this discreetly? He’d have to be prepared, more prepared and alert than he’d just been during that conversation with Mrs. Sheffield. What an idiot he’d been. She’d played him masterfully, and he’d fed right into her little quizzes. Curious, he went to his stash of diapers and checked them. Sure enough, the ones he’d just bought had two stripes. Stupid. He wouldn’t make that mistake again. And, he chuckled, he nearly had walked straight into the nightmare he’d imagined of having given the description of the perfect adult baby diaper only to be sentenced to wear it constantly. That would really be miserable. But he would avoid that. No one would be sentencing him to anything. He was an adult, and he controlled his life. The anxiety he had about tomorrow morning didn’t stop him from getting that same thrill he always felt when he touched the plastic of a disposable diaper, but he packed it away in his bedroom closet as a symbolic gesture of his continued autonomy. She’d pushed him around pretty well over the phone, hadn’t she? Wait until that other lady got here tomorrow. She’d meet the real Doug. He tried to have a normal evening, but his anxiety continued, so he had a couple beers to calm himself down. He’d meant to figure out what he would say tomorrow to that diaper lady, but after the beer, he decided he could figure it out later… Doug awoke the next morning fully clothed on the sofa, and was disoriented by the sunlight streaming in the window and what sounded like loud banging on his front door. He next noticed a strong message from his bladder, distended from the beer from last night. As he struggled to his feet and stumbled to the bathroom, he tried to reconstruct what had happened to him. He was midway through relieving himself before he realized that he must have fallen asleep on the sofa and overslept. So who could be so rude as to be pounding on the door? “Oh my god!” he said out loud as he suddenly remembered Mrs. Warren. He jerked his hand up to look at his watch and only succeeded in peeing all over the bathroom floor, not to mention leaving a small spot on his jeans. But big deal: he finally got a good look at the time, and, sure enough, it was after 10am. He was now wide awake, and working hard to figure out what to say to this woman. He zipped and buckled his (now slightly wet) pants and went to the front window. He couldn’t see the door, or who was there, but he did catch a glimpse of a large van, colored in pastel pinks and blues, with the words “HOME DIAPER DELIVERY--Get 'em, Wet 'em, and Forget 'em.” He would have been embarrassed at his neighbors seeing this van, but he had more urgent concerns. He could always claim it had had the wrong address or something. But there could be no doubt who was banging on his front door. He briefly entertained the idea of not answering the door at all, but the banging was so insistent, he decided he had to confront this threat and get rid of it. He took a deep breath and opened the door. He was suddenly and rudely pushed aside, and a large woman strode past him toward his living room area. He was sort of surprised by her assertiveness, and it took him a minute to recover, close the door, and follow her in. Entering the living room, he saw that she had her back turned to him, apparently already talking on the phone! But even from the back, he recognized her from the drugstore; she was the strong-looking beautiful brunette who had watched him with such interest as he had waddled self-consciously out of the dressing room in the back of the store. Somehow he had known that it would be her. He wanted to apologize to her for keeping her waiting at the door, to show her how reasonable and sensible he really was, but here she was, already on the phone. She was obviously kind of rude, but he didn’t want to get off on the wrong foot, so he just stood there awkwardly and listened in to find out what was so urgent. What he heard surprised and worried him a little. “Yes, Mary, I KNOW I promised not to spank him today, but he’s practically been begging for it for the past twelve minutes.” Doug glanced at his watch. It was 10:12 now. Could they be talking about him?! “Well, no, obviously not. But let me tell you what he did. Deliberately kept me waiting outside for twelve minutes…Of course he was home…I’m SURE it was on purpose…Well, Mary, I just don’t put UP with that kind of behavior…I KNOW what he needs, and I can give it to him with an open palm…Yes…Yes, I know…Yeah, okay. Alright. But he just exhausted his grace period. No more warnings or excuses. Next time he so much as looks at me wrong, he goes over my knee. You know how I feel about disrespect…Okay, Mary…Okay. Bye.” Doug was now very anxious, as he watched her set the phone down. His face was burning with embarrassment, for he knew that as absurd as it sounded these women were discussing HIM. Whether HE, essentially a grown man, should get a spanking. He would have thought it comical if this lady hadn’t seemed so serious and capable. He wasn’t small, but because of her size, he’d have a hard time resisting her physically. He watched her now as she seemed to think for several seconds and then turned abruptly and brushed past him back toward the door without even acknowledging his presence. He stood there, uncertain how to handle this strange encounter with this lady. She helped him. As she reached the door, she turned and for the first time, spoke to him. “The very least you could do would be to help me carry in your diapers. Come on!” And she disappeared outside, leaving the door wide open. It was another second before he realized that he’d better start explaining fast, or within about two minutes she’d probably expect him to be wearing one of the infantile gifts she’d brought. He rushed out the door and out to the pink and blue diaper van. She was around back, opening the rear doors. As he reached her she was examining a clipboard and appearing to compare it to contents in the back of the truck. He looked inside and got distracted by her cargo. Her van was literally crammed full of packages of disposable and cloth diapers. In addition there were smaller packages of plastic and other (rubber?) panties, bottles of powder, oil, vaseline, lotion, and lots of other nondescript items he thought must be pads and soakers. There were also many items he could not identify: jugs of liquid, assorted clothing. Half of him wanted to go through it all and see what he liked, but the rational half of him realized he’d find out all too soon if he didn’t start talking now. “Um, Mrs. Warren?” he started hesitantly. When she didn’t answer or even look up, he just went on. “We REALLY need to talk.” She half snorted derisively in response but didn’t otherwise say anything. He realized he’d better just spit out the essentials. “There has been a huge, embarrassing mistake. You see, in real life, I don’t NEED to wear diapers at all. I’m totally continent. This is all a big mixup because, um, well…” He stalled out, summoning the courage to tell someone the truth for the first time ever. “I, um, sometimes like to, you know, wear diapers, just as a kind of fantasy. But it’s just a funny little thing, it has nothing to do with reality…” He was watching her face, which never changed expression. She just kept checking over her list. Finally, as he trailed off, unsure of what to say next, she smiled slightly, and though her eyes never left her clipboard, she murmured," “Well, your fantasy is about to become your reality, little boy.” That was NOT the response he expected. He started to panic a little. She wasn’t listening or didn’t get it. He grabbed her elbow frantically and said, “No, you don’t understand. I DO NOT need diapers. I am completely continent.” THAT moved her eyes to him, and the fierceness with which she glared at him, and then at his hand on her elbow, startled him. He let go of her elbow. Her eyes narrowed, and after a long pause, she said slowly and distinctly, “I think I just heard you ask for a continence test.” He just stared blankly at her. The words made no sense to him. “Is that true?” she demanded. “I…I don’t know,” he stammered. “What is it?” “Just what it sounds like. It’s how we find out who can and can’t control their bladder and bowels. Sounds like you’re claiming to be continent. I can’t accept that claim unless you can back it up by passing a continence test. That’s only fair, right?” He absorbed this slowly. “You mean you want proof?” She nodded, her eyes penetrating into his. “Better believe it. You wouldn’t believe the number of my clients who try to avoid wearing the diapers they so obviously need. This test is simply a reliable way of telling who does and who doesn’t need my…services. Now, I’m sure you would never try to mislead me,” she said rather sarcastically, “so you can just consider this test as a formality.” “Well, I don’t know. What would I have to do?” he asked, uncertain. “Oh, it’s easy,” she replied, “If you’re continent. Just keep your pants all clean and dry for three hours after you drink a glass of Gatorade.” That didn’t sound so bad. “That’s it?” “That’s it. But it’s not so easy if you’re at all incontinent. And judging by your pants, I don’t know how you’d do.” He followed her gaze down to the spot on his crotch from the bathroom. He blushed heavily, cursing himself for his poor timing. Nice way to make an impression, he thought. “Oh, that’s nothing, just an accident.” She smiled. “They all are.” She went on: “But if you want to try to stay dry for three hours, that’s fine. I’ll give you an excellent chance to prove to me that you don’t need to wear diapers. Otherwise, you can help me carry in your things now.” She pointed to a pile of disposable diapers stacked near the door of the van. He stared at them, wishing he could have them and use them on his own terms, at his convenience. It was tragic to be confronted by this opportunity and not use it. But he couldn’t. This situation was way too threatening. “I guess I’ll do the test.” There didn’t seem to be much of a choice. She wanted proof. He could certainly provide that, and three hours seemed like a worthwhile time investment if he could nip this whole diaper debacle in the bud. “What do I have to do again?” She smiled. This would be fun. “As I mentioned, it’s very easy. You drink a glass of Gatorade and sit in the bathtub for three hours.” “The bathtub?” Didn’t sound too comfortable. “Yep. It’s easier to clean up puddles and messes that way. Along those lines, I’d suggest wearing older clothes. That should be fine,” she said, indicating the jeans and old tennis shoes he was wearing from last night. Mrs. Warren retrieved a large, clear container of what looked like lemonade from the rear of the van, then slammed shut the doors. She walked around the vehicle to the front end, and returned from the passenger side with a small sack of heavy black cloth. “Oh, yes,” she said, smiling at him, “I ought to tell you, just so you won’t be shocked when we get upstairs. I hadn’t planned on this activity today, so I’ve got a lot of other stops to make. I won’t be there to watch you during your test, and I need some way to secure you there in the tub so I know you didn’t cheat. That’s the reason for these.” And she held up the bag for him to see the contents. He peered in curiously and saw several well-worn leather straps and cuffs in a tangled bunch. A chill ran down his spine. “You mean you expect me to let you tie me up?” That didn’t seem wise at all. She was a stranger, and a weird one at that. He’d heard stories about people who got themselves into S&M situations and never gotten out. “No offense, but I don’t know you at all! Why should I trust you?” His imagination started working as he remembered how she wanted to spank him earlier, and his anxiety level jumped a notch. Sure, he’d fantasized about spankings. Maybe someday he’d try it, but now, with an angry stranger, was definitely not that time. Plus, there was a lot on the line here. But she shook her head. “Don’t worry. I won’t physically harm you. I know I could, but the purpose is just to make sure you don’t use the toilet if I’m not there.” She pulled out a piece of paper that looked like a legal document. “Here, look. This is a binding promise I’ll sign stating that I will not physically abuse you while you’re tied up. It will protect your rights, and you can hide it somewhere for use later if necessary. Or complain to the store. You’re protected in a number of ways.” This “promise” was a scam she’d only recently started, and it seemed to work well. She had to be careful of the promises she made, but of course most of it was true. She wouldn’t actively harm the boy, but she would use the situation that developed to her advantage. Anyway, the form was bogus. It just looked good, and most people didn’t know the difference. It was simply useful to reassure her brand new clients that they would be safe. And they would: in several hours, they’d be safely in a nice, clean diaper. She had other ruses to use if this didn’t work, but this boy seemed relieved when he saw the “document,” so she didn’t go any further. He was sadly naive, this one. That made it easier, but no less fun. Mrs. Warren made a big show of signing the document, giving it to him, and telling him to hide it somewhere safe. Then she told him to go upstairs and sit on the edge of the bathtub and wait for her. She saw him swallow hard, nod, and turn to go inside. She smiled again. He would be easy. When Doug went back inside and slowly climbed the stairs that led up to his bedroom and bathroom, he was still more than a little uneasy about putting himself in Mrs. Warren’s hands so completely. On the other hand, he couldn’t figure out how she could take advantage of him. I mean, I have the contract, he thought. And the test is so straightforward. A better test would be to sit in the tub for SIX hours, he thought. Three hours is almost too easy. I guess she could try to cheat by just not coming back until tonight or something, but in that case I simply wouldn’t agree to join the program. This sets me up for getting something if I win, with no chance to lose. Three hours, he thought. I could do that with a GALLON of Gatorade. And she admitted that anyone who was continent wouldn’t have a problem. Well, he figured, I’m as close to being perfectly continent as anyone. I haven’t had an accident since I was three or four. Never wet the bed. In fact, I’ve always wondered why I was turned on by diapers; I don’t even recall ever having been in them…oh, well, whatever. After today, in any case, I don’t know that I’ll ever go out and buy or wear them any more. Too risky. Doug hid the contract away under his mattress, for lack of a better place. Then he went into his bathroom and sat down on the edge of the tub. His bladder and bowels were feeling great and totally empty. His only worry was whether Mrs. Warren would keep her promise and leave him alone after he passed this “test.” But so far she’d seemed rational; surely she’d admit she was wrong after he proved himself to her. Overall, he was starting to feel very confident: things had looked bleak several minutes before with all that spanking talk, but now it looked like this would just be a three-hour delay in an apparently normal day. After about two minutes, he heard some noise down in the kitchen, and another minute or two later Mrs. Warren joined him in the bathroom. She had her bag of restraints and what he saw was the largest glass from his cupboard, filled with what looked to him like Gatorade. She cheerfully instructed him to sit down in the tub, facing away from the drain. He found this slightly uncomfortable because he couldn’t lean back without pressing the hard faucet into his back. She told him not to worry, that she’d take care of that. In the meantime, she put a leather cuff on each wrist and then one on the shower head above him. These were all locked with small padlocks. She then attached a small, long chain to one cuff, ran it up through the cuff on the shower head, and attached it to the cuff on the other hand. This brought his hands up to about a foot above his head. He found he could bring his hands down to about the level of his neck, but no further. Warren also took a short cord and ran it from a belt loop on the back of his jeans to the faucet behind him. He really couldn’t move his body or his arms at all. The arrangement was simple and effective. She must have done this often, he realized. She disappeared for a second, returning with a small pillow to tuck behind his back so he wouldn’t be so uncomfortable leaning back for three hours. Finally she brought out a little clock, which she set on the toilet seat in plain view. “This is so you’ll be able to see how you’re doing. In a moment, I’ll have you drink the glass over there, and then you’ll have exactly three hours to sit here alone. At the end of three hours, I’ll come back and see if you’re wet or messy. If it’s not obvious, we’ll pull down your pants and check your underpants carefully. “I just checked your dresser, and it looks like all your underpants are white. Is that what you’re wearing?” He blinked. She’d been in his dresser? He suddenly felt more vulnerable. But she was talking again. “Good. ANY signs of wetness, or ANY brownish stains on your underpants, and you fail this test. Is that clear?” He felt like a little boy again, being told his underpants would be checked for brownish stains, but he had to admit it was a reasonable demand for a continence test. “And if you fail, I don’t want to hear any excuses or arguments about wearing diapers, okay? By taking this test, you implicitly agree to participate willingly in your ICP afterward if we prove your incontinence. Right?” Again he nodded. Whatever. As if it mattered what happened if he lost. “And I agree that if your underpants come out clean and dry, that I’ll get back in my van, and I won’t bother you ever again. Agreed?” He nodded happily. Three hours until freedom. He didn’t think he’d miss her. Spank him indeed! Ha! Diapers? Please. She retrieved the full glass from the sink and asked if he was ready. When he nodded, she held the glass to his lips. He had to drink it down a little quicker than he would have liked, as she kept tipping it toward him a little too much for his comfort. It wasn’t bad tasting: not quite like Gatorade, maybe thicker and saltier, or something. But it was probably one of the other sports drinks he hadn’t tried. When he had finished the last drops, he looked up to see Mrs. Warren smiling an odd little smile, as if there was a joke he wasn’t getting. The joke’s on you, he thought. I’m not really incontinent. She wiped his lips in a maternal way, and said, “Okay, now, three hours exactly. I’ve got some deliveries to make in the meantime, but I’ll be here promptly to check on you.” She turned to go, then turned back suddenly. “I almost forgot,” she said, fishing out a small black object that looked like a little radio. “I don’t think it’s safe to have you here tied up alone, so this is a little microphone transmitter that I receive in my van. I’ll just set it here, on the toilet seat, and if there’s an emergency, just a yell will bring me back here in a hurry. Okay?” He nodded, impressed. She was prepared. Good thing he wouldn’t need to argue with her in the future! Luckily, all he had to do was play along briefly here, and he’d get this woman out of his life. She said goodbye, smiled that odd smile again, and left the bathroom. He heard her slam the door downstairs, start the van, and then heard its engine fade away. As Mrs. Warren drove away, she thought about the boy she’d just left in his bathtub, and almost felt a little sorry for him. He looked so earnest about the whole situation, so confident about staying dry, so hopeful about not wearing diapers. If only he knew the reality. She’d seen it before, of course, dozens of times by now, with dozens of boys. Most were, like this guy, essentially continent, she knew. Or at least they were when she first met them. And most had accidently stumbled into her little web, from which they could not extract themselves. All had similar stories, interestingly, of liking to PRETEND to need diapers, or having sick relatives, or some similar garbage. Mrs. Sheffield, the dear lady, caught one every few weeks. And though the woman might be nice, with the best of intentions, she was too dense to realize that these boys were not ACTUALLY incontinent and did not really need her help. But she thought they did, so she referred them to her, Linda Warren, former nurse and current queen of the diaper boys. The ironic thing was that as kind and dense as Mrs. Sheffield was, Mrs. Warren was just the opposite: insightful but self-serving. She knew damn well these boys didn’t “need” her, but she needed them, so they were in her program. She needed them mostly for financial reasons, as this partnership with Mrs. Sheffield was her only income. The more boys she had, the more she was paid. And the longer they stayed in her program, the less work they demanded, so the more boys she could keep, so the more money she made… And she was good, both at enlisting her boys and at keeping them. Now, after about three years, she had all the bugs worked out, so that once a boy was referred to her, he was pretty much hers for as long as she wanted. She could handle almost every curve thrown to her, and by now, had seen almost every variation. Her income was good, and, since the boys never left the program, her job security was excellent as well. She now concentrated on the art of her craft, and now enjoyed simply seeing how the game would be played. This boy, for example, was being resistant, and understandably so, she thought. He was probably no more incontinent than she was. But she had all the cards (or would have them soon) and his decision to try to prove his continence doomed him to what she knew would be a miserable day and a certain long-term relationship with her. For no one, she knew, had ever had a full glass of her “diaper juice” and had lasted more than two hours. Most lasted less than one. Even when she tested it on herself, she had been on a toilet within ninety minutes, and had stayed there for nearly three hours. It had taken her several weeks to find the appropriate doses of diuretic and laxative that would work quickly yet be able to be passed off as a normal drink. Using and mixing a therapeutic dose of furosemide wasn’t a problem, but it had taken some experimentation before she found a suitable solvent for the double-strength mag citrate and polyethylene glycol she used. It made her shudder to think about that: these were the fastest and most powerful laxatives known, and even a quarter of what she used would probably be enough. But she didn’t take chances. She wanted each and every boy that came her way. And so far, she had a perfect record. This boy had no idea what he was in for. He believed it was Gatorade, and was soon going to get an unpleasant surprise. Then the rest of the game would fall into place. Sometime later she heard the first curses come in over the receiver, and since she didn’t really have any errands to run, she pulled the van over to do some paperwork and to listen, for this first “accident” for her little boys was always sort of poignant for her. She leaned back and enjoyed the growing sounds of Doug’s distress. During the first few minutes, Doug tried to get a little more comfortable. His hands being tied above his head was innately uncomfortable, and he faced an unenviable choice between trying to hold his arms up on his own, which, he found, led to muscle cramps within five minutes, or letting his hands stay limp, which rested his arm muscles a little but chaffed at his wrists and cut off his circulation. In addition, his arms being elevated put added weight on the bony part of the pelvis on which he was sitting, making this extremely uncomfortable against the unforgiving porcelain of the tub. He tried to shift his weight, but his jeans were tied to the faucet behind him, and this prevented him from moving enough to get really comfortable. The pillow in his back also wasn’t doing a good enough job on his back; it was starting to ache already. This test would certainly challenge his endurance, he thought, though not in the way Mrs. Warren anticipated. He was trying to distract himself by thinking of other things when, scarcely 25 minutes into his three hour incarceration, he felt his bladder twinge a little, indicating its apparent fullness. This mostly just disappointed him, because he knew it would be a while before he could relieve himself, and that meant two and a half hours of relative discomfort on top of what he was already feeling in his arms, rear end, and back. But he’d held out for far longer than that in the past on longer car trips, so he wasn’t worried about it. Since he hadn’t had a lot to drink this morning, it shouldn’t get any worse. Ten minutes later, though, it did get worse. He started to feel a lot of pressure, and tried to move again in an effort to make it less evident. But of course, he still couldn’t move. Doug smiled, feeling chagrined. It looked like it WOULD in fact be a little test to endure this kind of bladder discomfort for another two and a half hours. He tried to figure out why he was having so much trouble, and could only point to a combination of the beer he had had last night and the Gatorade this morning. Weird. Oh, well. He’d just have to put up with it. But fifteen minutes later found Doug about ready to burst. He swore and groaned, confused about how the beer from last night could still be affecting him. He had to concentrate now not to relax his bladder’s sphincter, which would be a disaster of epic proportion. He thought about how ironic it was that it was turning out to be so difficult to stay dry. This was certainly worse than any bladder fullness he’d ever experienced, and it was quite a shame it had to happen today. As he hit one hour into his test, Doug was wondering how he’d find the strength to last the whole three hours. Suddenly he heard his abdomen gurgle. As he gritted his teeth against the tide of urine inside him, he attributed the grumbling to his lack of food today. Oh, well, he thought, too bad: his hunger would have to wait. Then he heard and felt more gurgles, which was followed by the abrupt onset of cramps. It took his breath away, and he fought to hold his bladder and withstand the pain at the same time. This wasn’t hunger. The pain subsided, but the gurgling continued and became nearly constant, and within two minutes, Doug was surprised by an overwhelming sensation of fullness in his rectum. It begged for immediate release, but Doug quickly clamped down with all his strength, and his sphincter survived the initial onslaught. He was, however, shocked at the abruptness of the urge, and at its strength, and as he tightened his bottom and bladder muscles as much as he could, he wondered what the hell was going on. He must be sick. Why did it have to happen now? His bowel cramps went away for a moment but were soon back with a vengeance. He felt severe abdominal pain and heard the gurgling continue, and battled the strong urge he had to relieve himself. He was now sure he was sick with something, and as he attempted to resist the beckoning call of nature, he started to get a foreboding feeling that it wouldn’t be possible to last another hour and forty-five minutes of this torture. Doug considered the options he had. He thought about appealing to the little black box sitting on the toilet in front of him. Surely he wasn’t supposed to be sick for this test: that wasn’t fair. Maybe Mrs. Warren would come back and let him out, and they could do this all over again some other time. But then he thought, how would he convince her he was really sick? As far as she knew, this impending inability to stay clean and dry might be typical for him, and this just represented an attempt to get out of wearing the diapers that she thought he needed. Anyway, she didn’t seem like the kind of lady who would bargain with him or entertain excuses. So he reluctantly had to dismiss that option. He was sweating now. He groaned again and again as he applied all the energy he could to maintain his continence. He had two other options, one of which was unthinkable. Either he could try to hold out, or he could give in to the strongest urges he had ever experienced. As difficult as it would be, he HAD to try to hold on, because he couldn’t imagine her coming back to find him wet and messy in this tub. The humiliation would be too great, not to mention the consequences… And then it happened. It was at one hour, thirty-five minutes in. He was tiring of fighting, and the cramps had gone away briefly, so he had relaxed slightly, only to feel what he thought may have been a little squirt escape from his bottom and soak into his underpants. He wasn’t sure, though. For that to have happened would simply be impossible, and the consequences too dire. It must have been a mistake. Just to check, he shifted weight to see if his underpants felt wet or squishy. As he did so, he felt another little squirt escape his anal sphincter, and then his underpants felt undeniably wet. When he first felt that sensation, he caught his breath. In fact, his whole sense of time slowed down. His world froze as he focused all his attention on confirming the damp sensation between his legs. He didn’t want to believe it. But even as he hoped he hadn’t done what he thought he’d done, he felt more effluent emerging from his tortured bottom. He resumed breathing, this time more quickly, in a panic. This couldn’t be happening. It was unthinkable. And yet his underpants were certainly wet, and now felt a little full as well. And then, in another moment, the smell from his actions caught up with his nose as well. No doubt, now. For the first time since he was about three or four, he’d accidentally soiled his pants. Not much, of course, but he could surmise the consequences of even the slightest accident. Surely his underpants were clearly stained, and Mrs. Warren would see, and say he was incontinent, and then… For the first time, he began to ponder what failing this test might mean. And he had to face the fact that he had failed it. Even now, as he continued to struggle against his bowels and bladder, it was over. It wasn’t fair, of course, for this wasn’t a representative three hours for him. He was sick, or still hung over, or something. It wasn’t fair, and he ought to get another chance. But he bet he knew what Mrs. Warren would say. He’d taken his shot, and had somehow blown it. Somehow he had failed his “continence test.” He repeated this inside his head as he groaned with the continuing pain. He couldn’t believe it. He glanced at the clock, which showed that he still had another 80 minutes left. Now his choice of what to do seemed less clear. Why, if he had already failed the test, should he be tortured with this pain and discomfort for the rest of the time? Trying to limit the damage did nothing for his situation. And perhaps, he thought in the desperate musings of a man in severe pain, if he gave in and relieved himself fully, she would come back and see that it wasn’t just a little leak, that he was in fact ill. Maybe that was his only chance. Only another minute passed before he decided to spend the next hour and a half in relative comfort. It certainly wouldn’t take much to make him feel better, just a little relaxation, and then she’d see it was all a mistake… He lifted himself up on one hip and relaxed his sphincter a little, only to be truly shocked at the force with which his bowels exploded. With nowhere to go, his watery bowel movement shot down his pants legs and up his back. It felt so good not to hold it any more that he started pushing when the flow slowed down. He pushed as hard as he could, and was gratified by how much better his bowels felt. When that discomfort had subsided, it made the pain from his bladder seem even worse, and he took a minute to think about whether there was any point to trying to fight that urge as well. After all, his poop was so watery, it had soaked his pants anyway: what could peeing hurt? She’d probably never know about that, for most would go down the drain or evaporate. So he relaxed his bladder as well, and a wonderful feeling of relief came over him. Unfortunately, somehow the way his penis happened to be positioned turned the onslaught of urine not down his crotch, but up into his lap, which had been the only dry spot remaining on his jeans. He looked down and realized there was no way he could pass off the dark stain in his lap as anything other than having wet himself. He lowered himself back down to the tub surface and felt a warm squish envelope his bottom, crotch, and most of each leg. What a mess. It didn’t feel particularly bad immediately, but over the next few minutes, as his mess cooled off, he realized that he wouldn’t be nearly as comfortable as he’d thought. In fact, he wasn’t sure that it wasn’t worse now. He wiggled his legs helplessly. He wanted to change now. He’d traded one discomfort for another, and the bad part was, this discomfort would be way more embarrassing when Mrs. Warren returned. It felt horrible, it clearly looked bad, and it was beginning to stink, too. But he’d done it, and now, he told himself, he had to sit in it. What was worse was that every few minutes he’d discover the need to expel more effluent into his pants. At this point, he didn’t even think about it, though. He couldn’t really make things worse. So every five minutes or so he eased himself up and pushed more poop and pee out into his wet, brown, full underpants. And in between his repeated soilings and wettings he had plenty of time to consider how embarrassed he’d be when Mrs. Warren came back and saw him in this state. Before, when he had done it on purpose, no one ever saw him. How humiliating to have had any accident, but especially one of this magnitude! And as he sat there in his wet mess he became more sure that she’d never let him try again. She’d been right all along, she’d think: he clearly needed diapers. And as he grunted and relieved himself once more, he wondered briefly if she was right. As the time dragged on, Doug became more uncomfortable than he could ever remember being. His arms burned, his hands were numb, his back was stiff, and his bottom and legs were cold, wet, and squishy. This isn’t at all the way he thought things would turn out. He watched as his clock crept toward the three hour mark, indicating that his test was over, and at the exact instant it read three hours, he heard a key turn a lock in his front door downstairs. Chapter 4 Damn, he thought, she’s good. He listened to the sounds of Mrs. Warren climbing the stairs, whistling to herself. He saw her enter the bathroom with her clipboard in her hand. “Whew!” she commented. “Smells like there’s a little boy who has some stinky pants that need changing.” He lowered his eyes in silence. Words couldn’t describe how humiliated he felt as he sat tied up in his bathtub with very messy and wet pants. She made it worse by laughing when she looked closer at him. “Well, I hope you don’t mind my pronouncing judgment BEFORE we look at your underpants, but I think it’s quite safe to say you didn’t exactly pass this test.” She chuckled again. “I mean, I’ve seen other little boys fail, but not with so much enthusiasm.” She leaned over to inspect him. “You certainly did quite a number on those pants, and it’s probably a blessing that you won’t be needing to wash those underpants. I’d suggest tossing those out. I don’t even WANT to know what color they are now. Deal?” she asked cheerfully as she packed her timer and monitor into her little black bag. He couldn’t speak. He was simply mortified. That this could happen at all, that anyone would see him, that she would make fun of him. It was all so terrible. She sat on the toilet lid to talk to him, then saw his expression and knew his feelings. “Oh, don’t worry, little boy,” she said, reaching over to stroke his hair maternally. “As I said, I’ve had lots of boys fail my test. You weren’t the first. “And likewise, you won’t be the first to wear diapers for me, either. It doesn’t have to be a big deal at all, if you just accept it. Life goes on, even if you have an accident, and even if you’re wearing diapers.” “But…” Doug tried to speak for the first time. “But I really don’t NEED to wear diapers,” he insisted, nearly in tears. “I’m NOT incontinent.” “Uh, huh, of course you aren’t,” Mrs. Warren said with a patronizing lilt. “But your pants might want to argue with you. Maybe we don’t understand what incontinent means?” she suggested gently. “No,” he said acidly. “I know exactly what it means. I’m just saying that I had horrible luck today. I’m sick, I think, and I had a lot of beer last night. I…I never have accidents normally,” he sputtered with exasperation. “No, you’re not sick,” she replied. “Part of it was the diaper juice.” “What?” “The diaper juice,” she repeated. This was always tricky. “It wasn’t Gatorade you drank, though it is very similar. It had a touch of a mild laxative in it,” she lied. Giving a hint of the truth often helped her credibility. But she found it best to keep him doubting his ability to stay clean and dry. He’ll be easier to manage in the short run if he wonders whether he actually needs the diapers. “I like to call it diaper juice because it helps me decide who needs diapers. You see, it doesn’t make everyone soil their pants, just those with some underlying incontinence. If your sphincters are a little weak anyway, this stuff will tip you over the edge, and you’ll have an accident. Or two,” she added, noting the wetness in his pants as well. “My company has spent a lot of time testing this drink, and we’ve found that the vast majority of people are a little ‘challenged' by the test, but that they stay clean and dry with no real problems. Only those we know by other tests to be incontinent had a soiling problem. It turns out to be quite a valid test," she concluded. She had phrased that well. He ought to believe that story. "Of course, that doesn't really explain why you wet your pants as well. The diaper juice doesn't have anything in it to cause that. You did that on your own," she lied. As Doug heard this, Mrs. Warren's words made his head spin. So, it had been a laxative, but he should have been able to hold it. But he didn't, so was he really incontinent? And he had peed in his pants, too, so that juice wasn't entirely to blame. He didn't know what to think. He had to admit, it sounded like he had legitimately failed this test. But...but he simply wasn't incontinent. He mumbled this again, since it was his only line of defense. "That's simply denial," she responded easily. "And I don't blame you for using denial as a defense mechanism. Bladder and bowel control are some of our most elemental skills. It's embarrassing and a little scary when we discover somehow that we have lost it to some degree, even if it's just temporary. “I know that you are scared and embarrassed. Now, I can't tell you why you are incontinent, only a doctor can. And Mrs. Sheffield says you've been to see a doctor already about it, so I'll take your word for it, and we don't need to address the reasons WHY you're incontinent. Our job is to deal with it." Doug cursed himself for having mentioned a doctor in his made-up story about needing diapers last Saturday. But he never thought it would be used against him. She went on. "But whether you choose to accept it or not, or whether you were aware of it or not, today we have proven that you have a problem with incontinence." He still felt dizzy. She sounded so reasonable. "But if I AM incontinent, I should have known about it. Right?" he asked, almost to himself. "And I'm sure you did, on some level, but you chose to ignore it, or not to believe it. Perhaps we can find some other earlier clues. Think back,” she urged. “I bet you can remember wetting your bed, or having daytime accidents when you were very little. Right?" He nodded. He could. But couldn't everyone? "Studies we have done have shown that our incontinent clients have specific memories like that more often than people with good control. “And this makes sense. If you can remember such incidents, you were probably older than most people by the time you gained control, and late bloomers often have trouble throughout life with bladder and bowel control." This was a fabrication she had practiced many times, and it usually had the desired effect. It did here. She could see that it had made him think. Time to hit him with more lies. "Here's another clue. Another subtle sign of an underlying incontinence problem is if after you pee (and I mean intentionally, in the toilet) you ever have a little problem dribbling into your underpants once you're finished. Normal men don't have this problem, but all of my other little boys do, and it's another pretty sensitive sign." Of course, Mrs. Warren chuckled to herself, how could this boy know that was a lie? Most men didn't examine other men in public restrooms. And indeed, Doug looked shocked. He had thought that a little dribbling was normal. Mrs. Warren smiled. Time to hit him with the big one. "Finally, psychologists tell us that we sometimes deeply desire things we know we need but which we can't admit we need, out of embarrassment or fear. These desires appear in different ways, but one way incontinent people manifest the desire for additional bladder protection is a sexual attraction to diapers. “You mentioned something earlier about this, so I'll bet that's the case with you, and I bet that from an early age you've had a fetish for diapers. It may seem perverted to you, or embarrassing, so you probably haven't told a lot of people. But the fact is that this is your unconscious telling you that you have a serious problem, and that if you aren't going to fix it consciously, your unconscious will help you fix it automatically.” Mrs. Warren let him think about this for a moment. “It's true, isn't it? You've secretly worn diapers before, haven't you?" She was looking at him with such a knowing expression. Doug nodded slowly as she nodded with him. Yes, of course he'd worn diapers. Was this why he liked them? Mrs. Warren smiled. That was one thing she could count on. All of these poor boys wanted to know why they liked diapers, and they tended to believe any credible reason you gave them. "You see, you've always had this problem, and you've always wanted help, but have been too afraid or embarrassed to get it,” she gently told him. “Not anymore. From now on, you'll get the help you need, Doug. And to make it easier on your ego, I'm not going to give you a choice. Sometimes we can't admit what we need, but we still need it. You may not be able to tell me you need to wear diapers, but you have all the symptoms of incontinence, and we proved today that you have a problem. "Now, it would be nice if you could admit you have a problem, so that we can work together to fix it. Working together is so much nicer than struggling with each other, and my experience is that it helps you more to admit your problem and cooperate with me.” Doug remained silent as he considered his future. It was too much to take in. Mrs. Warren sat up, suddenly more businesslike. “But I must tell you that it is hardly necessary for you to help me. It's far more pleasant for you if you cooperate, but one way or another you'll be wearing your diapers like a good little boy." She reached into her black bag, drew out a camera, and before Doug could object, she took several pictures of him as he sat in his obviously wet and messy pants in the tub. "What are you doing?" he cried. Evidence of his experience today was the last thing he wanted. He thought of his job, his grad program application. "Now just relax," she cooed, replacing her camera. "These pictures won't find their way anywhere important if you behave yourself. They are more like an insurance policy for me. As I said, I'm not going to give you the option of not participating in this program. I know your tendency is to avoid the issue of your incontinence, but I'm very serious about forcing you to confront it, or at the very least, to control it. The pictures will just help me make sure you'll stay in my program." That was bad news indeed. This woman was arming herself with more and more weapons, Doug saw. How could he avoid this catastrophe? "Okay," Mrs. Warren said, noting that the pictures had the desired effect. She would take more pictures later, and they would be her trump card for this fellow. "The next order of business is signing a contract for your personal incontinence control program, or ICP. After we do that, we can get you a little more comfortable." With that, she showed him her clipboard, which had on it an official-looking document with a space to sign his name. Doug got a sudden feeling of panic. He couldn't sign. This was it, the last nail in his coffin. If he signed this, he'd never be able to get out of this program thing. So he shook his head. "I'm not signing," he said defiantly. Mrs. Warren took the clipboard back and shook her head. "Your choice," she clucked. "You don't have to sign now." Doug was relieved. Maybe there was some way out of this. "But I will tell you that you don't move from that tub until I have your John Hancock on this page. As long as you're comfortable, you don't have to sign. You want to sit for a while?" Doug grimaced. He couldn't bear sitting here any more. But... When he didn't answer immediately, Mrs. Warren stood. "Fine," she said. "I'll check back in a little while, after I've prepared your apartment. If you're not ready to sign by then, I can leave you until tomorrow morning. I've certainly got plenty of time, you won't starve before then, and you don't exactly need special bathroom facilities. And if you get thirsty, I've always got some Gatorade you could have." He heard her chuckling as she went downstairs. When he was alone he lifted himself up a little and relieved himself once more into his pants. He had had cramps throughout that conversation but had held on until she left. That would have been way too embarrassing. Now what? She had him by the balls, he knew. She had blackmail material, and he couldn't sit here forever. He was so stiff and sore and generally uncomfortable that even a dry diaper sounded like a dream to him. This lady was too good, and right now she had him right where she wanted him. He had to sign the paper. There was no way around it. He dejectedly accepted this over the next few moments. More disturbing was the thought she had planted in his head about actually being incontinent. It didn't sound possible, but she made it sound obvious. And if it was true, did he have any business objecting to this ICP thing? But his bladder and bowel control was fine, he thought. He’d never had an accident. He'd never needed diapers before. And yet, why did he always want them? His head spun with the implications, and he was getting far too hungry and uncomfortable to sort it all out. He'd be best off if he signed the damn paper, got out of this tub, and got her out of his house. Then he could think about it all he needed to, and devise some way to get out of this whole mess. He couldn't think of any ways now, but there had to be some escape. He listened to the sounds of the house while he waited for her to return. He heard the front door open and close several times, and Mrs. Warren made several trips up and down the stairs as well. He heard bags ripping, and the downstairs toilet flush. He had no idea what was going on. And honestly, he didn't care. His mind was set on getting out of here. So when Mrs. Warren finally reappeared in the bathroom and asked if he was interested in joined her ICP, Doug nodded vigorously. "Good," she said, and held out her clipboard for Doug to read. But Doug had no interest in reading the contract. It didn't matter what it said: he had to sign it, and with any luck he wouldn't have to honor it. It was immaterial what it said. "I'll sign it. It doesn't matter. Just give me the pen, and let me out of here," he said irritably. Mrs. Warren smiled, and found a pen in her purse. She'd had a couple of boys like this. She certainly didn't care whether they read the contract. For her it served as one of her backup weapons, in the unlikely event that her right to punish her boys as she saw fit was ever questioned. But in her three years at this job, through many hundreds of spankings and other punishments, she'd never had a boy seriously question her authority. Not after he understood about the pictures, and had thought through what making a formal complaint would mean. She knew that the police would have a hard time believing the story, and would likely end up harassing her client more than they would her. The newspapers, Mrs. Warren knew, would love to get a story like this one, and if they did, her career would be over, certainly, but so would the lives of her clients. Imagine an adult male allowing himself to be diapered and spanked repeatedly, allowing himself to be tied in his bathtub until he soiled his pants, allowing himself to be photographed in that state, even going shopping for diapers in the first place. Her clients had all considered the possibility, she was sure, and once they saw the absurdity of their case, and realized the implications of pressing charges, they swallowed their pride and behaved themselves like good little boys. The contract was so that in the event that she enrolled a stupid or crazy client into her program (someone who *couldn't* comprehend how damaging "coming out" would be to their lives), she could protect herself legally when he made the insane choice to sue. And it was another tool for her to use in coercing her boys: "Yes, I think you WILL bend yourself over my knee. I've got a signed agreement which I could have enforced by law if I wanted. Would you like the police to help me spank you?" It was as vain a threat, of course, as her boys' threats to sue, for none of them, including Mrs. Warren, really wanted that much attention focused on their activities. But perhaps her boys didn't know that. At any rate, she simply smiled as she held the clipboard and pen so that Doug, in his bound state, could sign, which he did without so much as glancing over the page. "I knew you'd be a good boy eventually," Mrs. Warren said sweetly. "You will want to read that, perhaps after I've left. I will also leave a more detailed summary of the rules of the program with you so you can start learning, and obeying, them tonight. I advise you to read through it carefully, as you will be held accountable for all the numerous rules of your ICP, and I will start punishing you even tonight if you break any of them." Doug wasn't really listening. Just nod at her, he thought to himself. Pretend like you care, and then she'll leave, and you can figure out how to get out of this mess. "Now, I just need to go over a couple of things with you before we get you cleaned up and into a nice, fresh diaper. I've had a look around your apartment, so I'm pretty sure of my facts, but I always like to confirm them with new clients. You work in the grad school's lab in preparation for applying for their program next year. Is that right?" Doug, as distracted as he was, was still shocked. This lady had been through his private things! He felt even more violated and vulnerable. What business was it of hers? Was there any limit to her intrusiveness? Mrs. Warren *was* actually sure of her facts, and went through this presentation simply to scare her young charges. She wanted them to think that she knew everything and couldn't be fooled. The reality, actually, wasn't that much different. She took Doug's expression of disbelief as evidence that she was having the desired effect. "And you grocery shop every Sunday at The Grocery Place?’” Doug could only nod dumbly, wondering how she could possibly know so much about him. In fact, Mrs. Warren always marveled at how much could be learned about a person who kept receipts, as Doug did. She went on to `check’ with him about where he banked, rented videos, dry-cleaned. He simply nodded at each revelation, accepting this as evidence of how thorough she was and how difficult getting out of this situation would be. He would have argued with her about her right to rifle through his apartment, but as he was still tightly bound, this wasn’t really the time. This, of course, was all information she needed in order to keep track of Doug during his initial probation period. She would require him to let her know where he was at all times when he left the house, and she was adept at arranging for surrogate “babysitters” to keep eyes on him all over town. She didn’t need to ask about his pharmacy, since he would now be shopping exclusively at The Drugstore, her employer. And when she had gone over everything, she did finally release him. She undid his cuffs and removed the rope to the back belt loop of his jeans. Doug lowered his arms and just spent a moment savoring the feeling of blood in his hands again. Then he stood, and felt some not-quite-dry effluent slide down his pants leg and drop out onto the bathtub floor. Mrs. Warren made him remove his pants in the tub while she watched. Doug didn’t care. He assumed she wanted to watch in order to embarrass him some more, but he was past being embarrassed today. So he was caught off guard when he glanced up after pulling his filthy jeans off and saw a flash go off. Mrs. Warren was recording this moment with a small automatic camera, and had captured him as he stood in his brown-stained underpants with semisolid brown goo caked on his legs, and with his soaked jeans at his feet. He cared a little more about this, but not enough. It was done. He just wanted to shower. She kept watching and got several more pictures as he peeled off his disgusting underpants, soaked socks, and his relatively clean shirt. She had him put his underpants in one small clear plastic baggy, and all the rest of his clothes into another larger one. She told him the larger bag would be available to him if he wanted to wash the contents later. He would not, however, see his abused underpants again. He was told he wouldn’t need to. Then she observed his shower, and handed him a towel with which to dry himself. He felt much better, but still felt dazed as he followed Mrs. Warren into his bedroom, where he looked around as he stood there naked. He saw two large bags of disposable diapers and several other containers of what he took to be the stuffer pads. On his dresser were neatly stacked the contents of yet another bag of disposables, with shorter stacks of the stuffer pads next to them. His underwear drawer was slightly open, and he could see that it no longer contained his underwear, but was stuffed full of plastic panties. On his queen-sized bed was spread a large changing sheet, and a diaper and pad were already laid out on it, with lotion, vaseline, oil, and powder standing by and ready for his use. While he was still absorbing the transformation his room had undergone, Mrs. Warren instructed him to climb up on the changing pad and put on the diaper. “I’ll just watch to make sure you do a good job. We don’t want leaks.” As he walked to the bed, his hands attempting to hide his genitalia, he felt his face turn red. This was obviously more embarrassing than with Mrs. Sheffield in the store, not only because he was being watched, but because the observer had seen him wet and soil himself, and knew he needed to be in the diaper. He knew that he didn’t, or at least he thought he didn’t. And putting this diaper on felt to him an awful lot like giving up, which his pride made it difficult to do. But his practical side started talking, too: Look, it said. You’re not giving up. You’re actually tricking her by making her THINK you’re giving in. In fact you’re just trying to get her to leave, so that you can think clearly enough to figure a way out of this mess. You’ll win this game later, but to make it work, you’ve got to make her think you’re a “good little boy” by gritting your teeth and putting on this diaper. So Doug slowly walked over to the bed and gingerly crawled up onto the changing pad, next to the open diaper. He looked doubtfully at the arrangement of powders and lotions next to him. “It’s up to you,” Mrs. Warren said, reading his mind. “You have to care for your own skin. These are just possibilities. The only thing I require is that you use powder. Because I like the smell. You’ll appreciate it, too, once you get a little more experience with dirty diapers. So pile that on, but feel free to experiment with the rest of the stuff here.” Doug didn’t want to use anything at all, but he obediently picked up the powder and sprinkled some on the open diaper, then set the bottle down next to it. Mrs. Warren shook her head. “Nice try. Keep going with the powder. I want you to put it on yourself AND in the diaper, and I’ll tell you when to stop.” Doug crinkled up his nose, but he obeyed. He shook out a lot of powder into his crotch, and onto his thighs, then onto the diaper. She made him rub it in, and add several more handfuls to his bottom and stomach. When he was covered in powder, and nearly choking from the sweet perfume, she told him to put the diaper on. He carefully slid it under himself. She showed him how to center it and then fasten it lying down, so it fit best. He stood up carefully and noted with dismay how bulky the diaper felt now. Mrs. Sheffield had been right: this was way too much diaper for him. He could hardly bring his legs together, and there was no doubt that it would show clearly under any of the clothes he presently owned. This could be very bad. He’d never be able to hide it. But he was chagrined to recognize that he only had himself and his libido to blame. Mrs. Warren, however, seemed pleased. She stuck fingers into his waist and legs, testing the fit, and patted him on the rump, pronouncing him well-diapered. “I knew you could do it yourself. You know, Mrs. Sheffield thinks you’re something of an imbecile, or at least a little slow. She thought you’d need a lot of help.” She winked at him. “But I know better. So I’m going to be watching you very carefully.” Doug got a chill down his spine. She was on to him. “Now, come downstairs and see what I’ve got for you.” Mrs. Warren led him downstairs wearing only his diaper. In the kitchen, she opened the refrigerator door, revealing a gallon jug of what looked like milk. She pulled it out and poured him a large glass. “The diaper juice from before is very mild, but it is very long-lasting. It would ordinarily keep you rather…runny, for several days. So I want you to drink some special milk I have made to help slow your bowels down and to replace your electrolytes. The quicker you drink this milk, and the more of it you drink, the quicker your diarrhea will stop. So if the diarrhea gets worse, you need to drink more milk to fight it. Okay? I don’t want you to be uncomfortable. If you can manage to drink this whole gallon by tomorrow, that ought to do the trick, and tomorrow you’ll get back to normal. Some people, I should warn you, though, do take a little longer to readjust.” She set the glass in front of him. “Go ahead and drink this first glass now so I can make sure you at least get started.” Doug nodded wearily, and drank it quickly down. He was disappointed that the diarrhea would last a while, and he was willing to try anything that would help. If it would help, he’d try to drink the whole gallon before dinner. It didn’t taste quite like milk; it was chalkier and slightly bitter. But since he had never had Milk of Magnesia, he didn’t recognize the taste, and assumed it was the extra medicine and electrolytes that made it taste funny. In fact, this additional concoction of Mrs. Warren was designed to keep him very loose, out of control, and essentially diaper-dependent for at least the next few days. It would help get him started on the right track, and it amused her to think of Doug drinking this stuff to get rid of the very diarrhea it was causing. The more he drank, the worse it would be, and the more he’d drink. She’d check on him to make sure he didn’t really get dehydrated, and the game would stop after he was securely in the program and ran out of “milk.” After he’d drained the glass, Mrs. Warren handed Doug a copy of the contract he’d signed, and a longer list of rules he’d be expected to follow. Doug thought that perhaps he’d read them tonight or tomorrow, just to satisfy his curiosity, but he told himself that it didn’t really matter. Mrs. Warren then gave him his last minute instructions. “I’d advise you to use the rest of the day to explore your apartment and notice the changes I’ve made. Also, it would be wise to pore over those rules, because I’ll be checking on you often. I’ll definitely be back tomorrow, and I’ll probably be back overnight. I had keys to your apartment made, so I can check on you while you’re sleeping.” Doug looked a little shocked. “Oh, it’s perfectly standard. You told me I could do this in your contract. Read it, and read the rules. You have some homework to do before I see you tomorrow.” She winked at him as she was gathering her things to leave. “Promise me you’ll be a good little boy for me.” “Okay,” Doug said unconvincingly. “Now be nice. I see we’ll have to work on your manners. I’m trying to be kind, so you won’t get too many spankings right here at the beginning. But my kindness, you’ll find, only goes so far. So promise me you’ll be good.” Doug swallowed. “Yes, Ma’am. I promise.” She patted his diapered bottom. “Yes, Doug. I’m sure you’ll be a very good boy for me.” Then she left, and Doug waddled upstairs to his room, carrying his rules and contract with him. He collapsed on his bed, exhausted from the physical ordeal and from mental fatigue. He had a lot to think about, but it would have to wait. Linda Warren speed-dialed Mrs. Sheffield’s number on the van’s cellular telephone as she turned out of Doug’s apartment complex. “No, of course not, Mary. No problems at all. He came around just like all of the others have,” she told Mrs. Sheffield. “I hope you weren’t too hard on him, Linda. He seems like a nice boy who just needed a little gentle guidance.” Mrs. Warren chuckled. “Well, that’s just what I gave him. But I’m sure you really don’t want the details, do you?” “Oh, no, no, of course not,” Mrs. Sheffield said hurriedly. “I care more about the fact that they get involved in our program. It’s such a horrible thing to be incontinent and to have those accidents. I just want to make sure they are protected from that sort of thing, you know.” “Yes, I know,” Mrs. Warren said. She’d heard this hundreds of times. Mrs. Sheffield was so unlike her. So caring and nurturing, but also so naive. She thought that she was providing these boys with a critical service which they dearly needed. It would devastate her to find out that these boys were really perfectly normal, and that Mrs. Warren (with Mrs. Sheffield’s unknowing help) had forced them into an essentially permanent infantile lifestyle. It would also shock her, Mrs. Warren thought, how little Mrs. Warren cared about the harm they were doing to these boys. Mrs. Sheffield was in it to help her “clients.” Mrs. Warren just wanted to make money, and doing it with an artistic, sadistic flair was simply icing on her financial cake. “The bottom line is that Doug Easton is now safely tucked away in diapers, and before too long, he won’t even think about not wearing one,” she told her innocent comrade. “And by the way,” she continued. “I know he told you that his `problem’ is temporary, but I have a practiced eye, as you know, and I think I can safely say that he’s going to need our help for a long, long time.” “Oh, dear, I was afraid you’d say that, Linda,” Mrs. Sheffield said sympathetically. “What IS it about our boys? We haven’t had a single one make it to the retraining phase. It saddens me to think that there are that many people walking around out there without any control.” Mrs. Warren smiled. This lady was too much. How long would she go before she started suspecting the fact that they weren’t helping anybody? “Yes, I know,” she said out loud, trying to sound sympathetic. “And how many more are too scared to come in and let us help them? “There are tons of these folks out there. I told you that this was a useful service for people. The problem of incontinence, especially among young people, is a hidden epidemic. We have a new client every two or three weeks, and the rate hasn’t slowed down. I think there are more out there than even we suspect.” “I know you’re right about that,” came the trusting reply. “We must have about forty boys now, right? I guess I’ll just have to keep my eyes open in the store, and try not to let any of them slip through my fingers.” “Yes, that’s right. Don’t let any of them get away,” Mrs. Warren said, perhaps a little too greedily. “I mean, it would be tragic to have them continue with their problems.” “Indeed. I’ll never forgive myself for what my son went through. At least I can make up for that with these boys.” After they hung up, she thought back to when she had been a nurse, working long hours, for what she considered low pay. She had always wanted to go into business for herself, but had never hit upon quite the right idea. It had been pure luck when one day, while paying for some cold medicine in The Drugstore, she had observed the young man in front of her in line purchasing some adult diapers from Mrs. Sheffield. Mrs. Sheffield, apparently out of curiosity, had asked the guy what they were for, and the man had blushed tremendously and murmured that they were for him, for some periodic medical problem. Mrs. Sheffield had pressed him about the details, which had seemed odd to Mrs. Warren until she later found out about Mrs. Sheffield’s son. This young man was being grilled about how he managed his “problem” and whether he wore the diapers all the time. Mrs. Warren watched with interest as the boy grew confused and murmured something about wearing them only when he needed to. By this time he had received his change, and almost ran out of the store with his new purchase. Mrs. Sheffield had confided in Mrs. Warren that she had several young, apparently healthy customers about whom she worried, and this is when she related the story about her son. At the time, Mrs. Warren had thought the whole thing interesting, but an inappropriate topic to be discussing with strangers like herself. She had paid for her medicine and gone straight home. She didn’t think about it until the next day, when she was watching a talk show, and there were some young men in diapers being interviewed about adult baby fantasies. Mrs. Warren immediately realized why that young man had been in the store the day before, since she knew from her nursing job that there were few “temporary medical problems” that would periodically confine young healthy men to diapers. This fetish business made much more sense. One of the interviewees mentioned a fantasy he’d had about being forced to wear diapers, and soon a plan began to brew in Mrs. Warren’s head. All the pieces were already essentially in place. Mrs. Sheffield, the drugstore lady, who had capital but no way to “help” her diaper-wearing clients. The clients, who wanted to wear diapers but wanted, above all, anonymity. All they needed was the middle-man, or middle-person in this case. She could make the necessary deliveries. And what if her clients were too shy? Well, didn’t they often share a fantasy of being forced to wear them? She could do that: blackmail, she was sure, was a powerful tool, one that would not only keep them purchasing her services, but would protect her from the law. These boys would be petrified of people finding out. They were just waiting for her to run their lives. Mrs. Sheffield had been ecstatic, buying a van, hiring helpers to inspect diapers and assure proper use, and essentially leaving the oversight of the boys to her. Linda Warren had quit her nursing job, and devoted herself to running her new business. She had to make it look professional and well-intended to Mrs. Sheffield, so she conceived of ICP’s and retraining plans, typing up rules and contracts, never intending any of her clients to graduate from her program. And they didn’t. Her program was wildly successful, by her standards, anyway. She had been amazed at the numbers of infantilists who were drawn in by her lure, which was essentially an extra-large adult diaper section. It drew these guys in by the boatload, whereupon Mrs. Sheffield somehow got their names and Mrs. Warren forced them into paying her to enslave them. And nobody ever quit. Eventually the time and energy demanded by a client decreased, so that she could focus on the new ones, who took a lot of attention. But her client list, her nursery of baby boys, just kept growing and growing, and so her commission did as well. Now she had a profitable career built around infantilizing young men against their wills, and the beauty of it was that it was fun, looked legal, and was in no danger of ending. She had the perfect job. Occasionally she felt a twinge of guilt about what she did to these guys. For example, Doug Easton had never asked specifically for this to happen. But he WAS made vulnerable by his unfortunate little fetish, and Mrs. Warren often rationalized it by quoting Darwin’s natural selection theory. She was strong, they were weak. It was none of their faults, she thought, but that was the way it was. And anyway, they LIKED diapers, didn’t they? Sure, maybe not like this, but she imagined that they didn’t get many of their other fantasies fulfilled, and beggars can’t be choosers. The only thing she really felt bad about was the one element of her “ICP” farce which was also pure genius, the aspect that essentially doomed these boys to stay with her forever. It was the rule forbidding masturbation, which must just about kill these boys, she thought. That really is cruel, to supply a fetish and then punish the excitement it breeds. Yet it really extended the program. Eventually these guys got used to wearing the diapers, bowed to her desires, and stopped fighting. But she hadn’t had one yet who could go more than a month without satisfying himself sexually. And then she could punish him and extend his probation indefinitely. Prohibiting sex was the one thing that made their ICPs permanent. It was the master stroke, so to speak, and therefore could not be eliminated, despite its cruelty. Anyway, she wasn’t totally heartless: she didn’t make them all wear chastity belts all the time. They DID get their little releases, but for that they paid a price, with their rear ends, and with their probation extensions. She smiled. It was the perfect business. She just wished she could tell somebody. Chapter 5 No sooner had Doug flopped down on his bed than he fell asleep, exhausted from his ordeal. He awoke several hours later, during the early evening, and it was dark. Doug was disoriented. For the moment, he had forgotten what had happened earlier. His first sensation was a strong urge to release his bowels. He stood up in the darkness, and was surprised when he heard the crinkling of a disposable diaper. He wouldn’t have expected this, since he didn’t usually wear his diaper to bed (it excited him too much to allow sleep), but he was pleased, since he could just use the diaper to relieve himself. Drowsily, he relaxed his rectal sphincter and allowed what turned out to be a gush of fluid into his diaper. Somehow the diaper accepted the whole load without leaking, and, more comfortable, Doug sat down on the side of his bed to try to figure out what time it was. The clock said 7:30pm. That didn’t quite make sense. He felt the warm squish of his messy diaper, and smiled. He loved that feeling. But why WAS he wearing this diaper? What had happened before his nap? Then, with dawning horror, he remembered. “Oh, God.” Could it all have been true? That had just been a couple of hours ago. No wonder he was wearing the diaper. But now that he’d remembered, he felt totally uncomfortable. There was something about the memory of his humiliation earlier, and the embarrassment of having been forced to wear this diaper, that now made him want to take it off immediately. He waddled into the bathroom and carefully removed the messy diaper, taking care not to drop any of the mess on the floor. Then he stepped into the shower to rinse himself off. He had no sooner finished drying himself off, however, when he once again felt an urgent call of nature. Would this diarrhea never stop? he asked himself. He headed over to the toilet to relieve himself in a method more appropriate to his age, but saw for the first time that there was something wrong with it. There wasn’t any water in it at all, or more accurately, there was water, but just a little bit, and it was colored blue. He tried to flush it: nothing happened. It was apparently turned off. Well, he knew how to fix that, he thought, as he gingerly bent over to adjust the water supply on the pipes under the tank. He had to be careful as he squatted, because the release of his bowels was imminent, and crouching was obviously sort of dangerous with this kind of diarrhea. When he squatted to look, however, he found that there was some sort of locking contraption attached to the pipes. He couldn’t turn on the water! Now he was in trouble. He refused to mess his pants twice in one day. He ran downstairs in a kind of panic to check on the other toilet, but it, too, was drained, with blue dye, and was rigged up the same way underneath. Now what could he do? He didn’t have much time, certainly not enough to figure out this locking thing and fix the toilets. What other options did he have? He didn’t want to get dressed and knock on his neighbor’s door just to use his toilet; that was embarrassing, and also might take too long. He couldn’t really imagine relieving himself in the tub or the sink; it was bad enough he washed himself off in there. He didn’t want it to turn into a toilet, especially for this kind of excrement. He had no choice, he knew. Not for now, not for tonight. He dashed back upstairs and, swallowing his pride, picked up the top diaper from the pile on his dresser. He quickly grabbed a pad and took them both over to his bed, where he spread out the changing pad, laid out the diaper and pad, and taped himself securely in. Still sitting on his changing pad, he eagerly released his bowels, fully soiling his diaper for the second time in ten minutes. Wow, he thought. That diaper juice has some half-life. Then he remembered the milk Mrs. Warren had made for him to help. If ever he needed some help, it was tonight, with his toilets locked up. He gingerly got up, and when he saw that his full, messy diaper didn’t leak, he waddled downstairs to the kitchen. He poured himself a large glass of the “milk,” and drank it quickly down; then, thinking it would help, poured yet another and drank that, too. That should help, he thought. Despite how Mrs. Warren had manipulated him earlier, getting him to submit to being tied up, making him wet and soil his pants, making him sign that contract thing, he still didn’t suspect any further trickery. He certainly never suspected that this milk was, by now, the major cause of his bowel problems. He thought the whole goal had been to get him to sign the contract so he’d feel roped in to this program. He didn’t understand the extent of her plans for him, and didn’t know how important she thought it was to keep him constantly in diapers this night. After tomorrow, her techniques would change, but this first night she liked to have him diapering himself out of need, not out of fear. It was more amusing that way. But since Doug didn’t know that Mrs. Warren enjoyed his suffering, he wasn’t cynical enough to suspect the vast extent to which his actions were now being dictated by her. And in the end, his naivete would cost him dearly. But for now, Doug just sighed when, fifteen minutes later, he pooped in his diapers again, which severely strained their capacity. He again cleaned himself up, showered, and thought he didn’t like the idea, rediapered himself immediately afterward. He accepted the fact that he wouldn’t be able to fix the toilets tonight, and that due to his upset stomach he might have to wear the diapers until tomorrow morning. But, he told himself, it wasn’t just because this lady said he had to do it. It was his decision, because he was sick. And it was obviously just temporary. He took a look around his room. It was well-stocked with diapers and other supplies. And all of his underwear was gone! She’d stolen his underwear. He’d have to buy more. He suddenly realized he was starving. He hadn’t eaten since last night! He went downstairs again, wearing just his diaper and a t-shirt. It didn’t make any sense to wear pants, since he’d just have to change his diaper again soon anyway. He made himself some dinner, and thought about what to do tomorrow, when Mrs. Warren came back. He ought to accuse her of stealing, he realized. He ought to take some sort of legal action, because it really was absurd, the way she waltzed in here, tied him up, humiliated him, threatened him with blackmail, and stole his underwear. But what would the police say, he thought to himself. He’d let her in, allowed her (a perfect stranger!) to bind him in his own home, and then had signed a contract agreeing to all of this. Or at least he thought he had. He went upstairs and found it next to his bed. He brought it back down and read it while he finished dinner. [SEE CONTRACT] THE INCONTINENCE COMPANY'S INCONTINENCE CONTROL PROGRAM CLIENT CONTRACT I, ________________________, do hereby attest that I am completely and functionally incontinent of bladder and bowels, and have subsequently sought the services provided by The Incontinence Company (TIC, subsidiary of The Drugstore Company) for help in controlling my problem. I hereby state my desire to have a personal Incontinence Control Program (ICP) created for me by TIC, which I hereby agree to follow completely. The major aspects of such a plan have been described to me: I understand that the mainstay of my ICP will be the wearing of adult-sized diapers, either cloth or disposable, according to my needs as decided by TIC. I understand that I am expected to wear my diapers at ALL times excluding showers/baths and diaper changes, and I hereby promise to do so. I also agree to the wearing and use of other diaper-related accessories as deemed appropriate by TIC (e,g. plastic panties, pads, liners, pins). I also understand that, at the discretion of TIC, all bladder and bowel activity will be limited to my diapers, as a means of ensuring incontinence control and fostering discipline, and as a way of helping me to confront my incontinence. I understand that the eventual return to toilet usage will be an issue left entirely up to the discretion of TIC, if and when it becomes appropriate. I pledge to use my diapers exclusively and avoid all toilets unless instructed to do otherwise by TIC. I authorize copies of my house key to be made and used by TIC personnel for announced or unannounced visits to my home, and I give them permission to enter my home at any time, regardless of my presence, absence, or wishes at that time. I further request, recognize, and appreciate the central role played by discipline in my ICP, realizing that strict discipline is the other key component in the control of incontinence. I certify that I have been told that my ICP may include, if necessary, the application of corporal punishment and psychological techniques (eg. humiliation, role playing) as deemed appropriate by TIC, as long as no permanent repercussions are intended, other than my closer adherence to my ICP. I hereby publicly authorize the repeated and liberal use of such measures as spanking and humiliation, and I agree to submit myself wholly to them in the interest of achieving better incontinence control. I also understand that politeness and respect are a part of my disciplinary program, and I agree not to question my TIC representative’s judgment about disciplinary matters. I agree to a probationary period, to begin immediately, the duration of which is completely left to the discretion of TIC, and during which time discipline and supervision may be applied more intensely. I also understand that while efforts will be made to protect my privacy and to avoid public disclosure of my incontinence problems and the methods by which they are being controlled, that there may be unavoidable instances of public disclosure. I approve of these as long as they are made in good faith, with my best interests in mind. I certify that I have been told that my diapers will be delivered in a delivery vehicle clearly marked as carrying diaper supplies, and I acknowledge this as acceptable. I recognize that my ICP will inevitably prevent or interfere with personal, intimate, and/or sexual relationships I may already have or may wish to initiate. My enrollment in this ICP indicates my belief that controlling my incontinence takes priority over all other interpersonal or sexual aspects of my life, and I hereby agree to refrain from all sexual activity during the duration of my enrollment in my ICP. I ask for TIC’s assistance in helping me to control my sexual impulses, using restraining devices or corporal punishment to help me avoid any sexual experiences. I also agree to relinquish all decision-making responsibility regarding relationships to TIC, and I agree to seek authorization from TIC before engaging in sexual intercourse. I appropriately allow TIC full control over my bowel and bladder function and frequency, and I authorize any therapeutic measures TIC deems necessary in the interest of better incontinence control (eg. stool softeners, laxatives, enemas, diuretics, etc.) to be used at any and all times, if necessary, with careful attention to my health. Finally, as incontinence is a serious medical condition, I agree to continue my ICP as long as TIC believes it is necessary for me, unless I otherwise pass a TIC-administered incontinence test, or unless I bring written termination instructions from a TIC-authorized physician. I understand that I will be supplied with a list of these physicians if I ask, but that evaluation by a physician may only take place following six months of enrollment in my ICP. In summary, I certify that I understand and agree to all aspects of my ICP and each of the above statements. Signature____________________ Date ____________________ Witness ____________________ Well, this document would certainly be incriminating, he thought to himself as he finished reading. It gave her permission to do all of this to him, and more, apparently. He nearly choked when he read the part about abstaining from sex. I mean, I don’t have a girlfriend, but I do have an active fantasy life, he thought. TOO active, he replied to himself. His spirits sank as he realized that this piece of paper, of which she had a copy, essentially gave him no legal leg to stand on. He didn’t know much about the law, but it seemed to him that a signed document agreeing to wear diapers would look pretty voluntary to a judge. And, he had to admit to himself, he didn’t relish admitting his fetish, let alone the day’s humiliating activities, to ANYONE, and certainly not the general public. It would certainly cost him his position in such a small, tightly-knit program. No, he thought to himself, I’m on my own here. I’ve got to find my own way out of this. He put away his dishes and went back upstairs. He picked up the two soiled diapers he’d left on the bathroom floor, and put them, for lack of a better place, in the diaper pail that waited expectantly by his dresser. He sat down on his bed, noting the ever-present crinkling sound his diaper made. How could he get out of this? He’d asked himself this only the night before, he realized, and tonight he didn’t have too many more options. He could try to talk to her again, make her believe somehow that he wasn’t really incontinent. A full confession of his fetish might be his best chance. He could explain why the whole thing wasn’t appropriate for him and how the confusion had all happened. But if it hadn’t worked today, why would it work tomorrow? Mrs. Warren didn’t like excuses, he realized, and his failed continence test loomed large in the background. Besides, even the truth sounded hard to believe now. He’d WANTED to buy diapers, but didn’t really need them? Who did that? And why would he have waited until now to protest? Another alternative would be to stand up for himself and challenge her physically. He didn’t want to fight, but maybe this was the best way to convince her how serious he was about not wanting to be in this program thing. He’d simply refuse and protect himself if she tried to force diapers on him. On the other hand, as he thought back to their encounter earlier, he began to remember her size and apparent strength. He wasn’t small, but she really was very physically intimidating, and he began to wonder who would win a fight, if it came down to that. Yet anything was better than submitting to this nonsense. And if she tried to spank him (spank him! That hadn’t happened since he was six years old!), then he would have no choice but to protect himself and his pride. His only other options were unthinkable. He could always go along with this little program for a while and wait for another idea to come to him, perhaps after a detailed analysis of the flaws in the program’s rules. Or he could go along with this thing whole-heartedly, and try to “graduate” soon. But these options reeked of giving up, and were unthinkable. Submitting himself to such humiliating treatment daily was not something he could allow himself to do. He’d have to fall far lower to even consider it. It didn’t matter that he’d fantasized about just such a situation before. BEING in this situation made him realize he enjoyed his freedom far too much. He had other areas of his life to enjoy as well, after all. He couldn’t give all that up just for the opportunity to enjoy diapers a little more frequently. No, if he had infantile fantasies, he’d enjoy them on HIS terms. But he had to admit that he was out of ideas tonight. He grimaced as he almost reflexively let another runny BM out into his diaper. He was tiring of this diarrhea, and of these diapers. But he was prepared to bear it through the night, if he could get things back to normal tomorrow. Just to help things along, he waddled downstairs in his messy diaper and had two more large glasses of Mrs. Warren’s special milk. It hasn’t helped yet, he thought, but on the other hand, I’d hate to think what this diarrhea would be like without it. Then Doug waddled back upstairs, showered yet again, and changed himself once more. He watched TV for two hours before returning to his bed to sleep for the night. He soiled three more diapers that evening, and yet another when he awoke during the night, but he was so tired that he slept well anyway. So well, in fact, that he didn’t notice when Mrs. Warren stopped by shortly after midnight to check on her new baby boy. She was pleased to see nearly all the milk gone, and seven thoroughly soiled diapers in his diaper pail. And as she peeked in on Doug, she was gratified to see him sleeping only in his diaper and t-shirt. As she completed her inspection of his apartment, she was happy to find the toilets as she had left them, but she clucked quietly when a quick survey of trash cans and the bathtub revealed no evidence of shaven pubic hair. She wondered if he hadn’t shaved himself on purpose as a gesture of defiance, or had simply forgotten, or whether he’d even read the rules at all. It didn’t really matter, since she’d get to spank him tomorrow regardless of the reason, but for the future it would be good to know so she’d know whether she could anticipate further compliance problems. She drove away relatively disappointed that Doug was behaving himself so far by wearing and using his diapers, because midnight spankings were favorites of hers. She liked the element of surprise, and could often be creative. But no matter; she could wait until tomorrow. Doug awoke early and was distressed to feel his rectum already full. He felt ready to erupt into his still-clean diaper. He sighed and lifted his hips slightly to allow the putrid brown liquid to spill out of his bottom, completely filling and soiling his diaper. He then noticed his full bladder and turned over onto his tummy to relieve that as well. Then he carefully waddled into the bathroom and cleaned himself up, then powdered and rediapered himself wearily. This was gross, embarrassing, and infantile. He couldn’t stand much more of this; he hoped Mrs. Warren got here soon. He wasn’t quite sure what was going to happen, but she was certainly his only chance of getting out of this mess. It was clear that he had to show her who really ran his life. But he was disappointed when Mrs. Warren didn’t show up until after lunch, long after he’d finished his “milk,” and after three more very dirty diapers. He was studying when she surprised him by letting herself in. He was confused about how she managed this until he remembered about the key. As she entered his dining area and seated herself calmly in one of his dinette chairs, facing him, he decided that he’d better set the tone for how he hoped this little meeting would go. “What makes you think I’ll put up with those lock things on my toilet? Who told you you were allowed to make a copy of a key? Or come in unannounced. This is my house.” Mrs. Warren did not say anything. She simply stared at Doug with her steely eyes for nearly a minute. It grew tense. He wasn’t sure how she did it, but already she was making him feel powerless and small. As he felt her eyes bear down on him, he totally lost his train of thought. Shit, he thought to himself. Finally, she spoke, slowly and distinctly. “Because you are new to your ICP, those comments will today lead only to a warning. But you will never, NEVER, speak to me like that again, unless you decide you like to spend time face down on my lap. And most little boys do not. Is that understood, young man?” Doug did not know what to say. Her reaction was not at all what he had expected. “But this is my house, and…” “No buts. I asked you if you understood me.” Long pause. Doug simply didn’t know how to talk to this woman. She was acting just as if she were his mother, and he hadn’t had to talk to someone like this for a very long time. Instinctively, before he could stop himself, he heard himself say, “Yes, ma’am.” “That’s better. And to think that up until that moment I’d been impressed with your compliance. You’ve obviously been wearing your diapers like a good little boy, and I can see that you clearly have one on now under those sweats.” This shook him. Was the bulge that obvious? And could she really know that he’d worn diapers since she left? As if reading his mind, she said, “Yes, I was here overnight, and yes, it’s very obvious. Did you finish your milk?” “Yes…yes, ma’am. But it didn’t help.” “Oh,” she said sympathetically. “Have you had a lot of messy diapers?” He nodded, embarrassed. “Yes, ma’am.” “Well, look on the bright side. You won’t have any trouble with your messy diaper quota this week. And don’t worry: your little problem should be clearing up very shortly.” That was good news, at least. But what was the quota she was talking about? He had forgotten to read the rules, and now he started to think that was unfortunate. He was also aware that he was inexplicably falling into a little boy role while talking to her. It was embarrassing, but she seemed to expect it, and he couldn’t seem to help himself. Her personality was too strong. She smiled at him. She wouldn’t give him any more milk now. In a very short while he’d keep the diapers on voluntarily, and then, after some time, he wouldn’t dare take them off. It made her almost giddy in anticipation. But for now there was even a more delicious task to address. “So, you’ve been a good boy. I guess I just need to check your toilets and bathtub, and then we can take a look at you to see how you did shaving.” She was sure he hadn’t done it. And her spanking hand tingled with excitement. “What?” he said. He hadn’t heard anything about shaving, but he did have an ominous insight into what she might be referring to. And he didn’t want to do it. No way. Shaving himself for her, to pretend to be her little baby, was simply too weird and submissive. That was taking this way too far. “Shaving. Don’t tell me you didn’t read your rule list.” Uh-oh. Now he knew why he should have read the rules. “Well, that’s a little disappointing, Doug. I was beginning to think maybe you’d avoid a spanking today, but I can’t let you get away with not shaving. Hair underneath your diaper is against the rules.” His docile trance was abruptly shaken loose. Okay, he thought. That’s it. He had been uncomfortable and embarrassed up to now, but had been carried along by the illusion created by Mrs. Warren’s role-playing. But shaving himself and getting a spanking raised this game to another level entirely. With renewed determination, he shook himself, and thought, This is where I get off the ride. “Forget it. Look, this has gone on way too long,” he said, standing and pacing in front of her. “I’m not indulging your little whims anymore. I went along with the continence test because I thought it would be a nice, easy way to get rid of you. And then I’ve worn these “brief” things overnight because of my little diarrhea problem and your cruel toilet sabotage. But I’m no longer interested in your freakish diaper service, or your S&M games, so this has to stop.” He took a breath, and noticed that she was looking at him with an amused expression. It was somewhat disconcerting, but he went on, his tone turning rather desperate. “Yes, I know I got mixed up with you because I was buying those…briefs in that store that day. But they, um, weren’t for me, they were really for my grandmother, who is very ill, and somehow everything got all mixed up, and you got involved. So, well, you see, I’m not incontinent, and I want you to take your stuff and get out. “If you want my grandmother’s address, well, I can get that for you, but that's about all I’m going to do for you from now on. So I’d appreciate you unlocking my toilets, and taking your stuff, and giving me back my underwear, and leaving quietly. Thank you.” Doug took a deep breath and snuck a look at his audience. He thought that had actually gone very well. He hadn’t intended on making up a new lie, but it had come out of his mouth, and he thought it wasn’t bad. Mrs. Warren had sat and listened attentively. Then she said, “But what about your fetish? I know you have a fetish: you told me that last night. And what about the diapers in your closet upstairs, and the used ones in your trash outside? And what am I supposed to do about your incontinence, which you deny but for which we got some pretty extensive evidence yesterday? I can’t just ignore that, Doug. It would be irresponsible.” She sat back in her chair. “It doesn’t surprise me that you want out, even this early. It happens, because this is a rigorous program, and can be difficult when you first start. But you signed a contract. You made a promise.” She shook her head sadly. “And you have a problem that needs to be dealt with whether you want to or not. So, I’m not going anywhere, and we won’t ever discuss that prospect again. Your continence is too important.” Doug started to sweat. He’d forgotten the admission he’d made about the fetish, and didn’t know she’d seen his stash of diapers, let alone that she’d gone through his trash. Wasn’t there anything she didn’t know? How could he fight this? He sat down uncomfortably. Mrs. Warren continued talking, her tone becoming stronger and more commanding. “And let’s get something straight from the beginning.” She paused ominously. “You will never again tell me what to do. According to your ICP, which you are going to wish you’d read, I am the Mommy and you are the baby. And if we need to add some props to help you remember this, we will. I have adult-sized pacifiers, bottles, clothing, and furniture we can play with if we need to, not to mention spankings. You will never tell me what to do, or question anything I tell you to do. Understood, little boy?” Silence. He couldn’t say it. It was ridiculous. He had too much dignity for this. He had a life. He wouldn’t throw it away for this lady or this distorted fantasy. “Doug? I asked you a question. Tell Mommy the answer.” Silence. He didn’t know how to argue with her. It was so absurd. Mrs. Warren stared at him. She knew what he was thinking. She’d seen it before. It was time to get him to commit to this program. “Doug, I can see that we don’t understand each other. But you need to see that there is no choice for you here. And if it’s not because you want to get better or because you signed a legal contract, maybe you will obey me because of these.” She reached down and opened her large black purse. She withdrew two 8X11" glossy photos, and showed them to Doug, who gasped in horror. One showed him in the bathtub, with his messy jeans down around his ankles, and brown pasty goo caked on his legs and genitalia. The other pictured him sleeping peacefully in bed, apparently last night, wearing nothing but a diaper. He stared at these for a long time, trying to absorb their significance. Now he understood why she had seemed so confident since last night. These were very powerful elements of blackmail, documentation of what appeared to be totally voluntary activity that just happened to be captured on film. She had been careful not to use pictures of him tied up; these looked like he didn’t even know they were being taken, which was true. They also made it look like he wasn’t a victim, at all, as though this was the way he normally lived. Like he was a pervert who’d been caught in the act. Mrs. Warren broke his reverie. “Now, I do know where you work, and I did see the application you’re working on for your little graduate program. I don’t want to do this, but if you are so irresponsible as to ignore your incontinence, I will be forced to show these to folks who might be interested. I even have the addresses of your family.” She smiled at him. “Even your grandmother, who might be interested to learn that you have a problem so similar to hers,” she said dryly. Doug felt numb. His heart had stopped. This was it, coming true. His ultimate nightmare. Despair threatened to flood through him. How could this have happened? How could he have been so stupid? He hadn’t seen this coming at all. He hadn’t once taken this seriously or sensed what a catastrophe this could turn out to be. Everything had seemed straightforward and innocent. And all of a sudden he was totally trapped and at the mercy of this fanatical lady. The implications of these pictures were mind-boggling. Doug’s future was in this woman’s hands, he realized. She had the ability to ruin his life. He’d worked for years toward this grad program, building contacts, getting experience. It was within reach now, but this woman, with these pictures, could destroy it all. He’d lost the battle, he saw. This lady’s game was too strong. He couldn’t fight her, he couldn’t argue with her, and now he was even afraid to make her angry, for fear that she would go public with this blackmail. He had no choice. He had to submit. To anything. To everything. If he wanted a life, he’d have to submit. Mrs. Warren saw it hit him, and as always, it was the moment she treasured most with her new babies. For it was at this moment, and not before, that each one became wholly hers. She watched him abandon all hope and authority in his life. Essentially he had just begun the mental process of submission, and, therefore, of regression. After a day of fighting, finally their relationship was becoming what it should have been from the start: Mommy and little boy. It was sort of like giving birth, she thought, only better, since there was no pain (for her), and it happened every few weeks. Now the game would change. From now on arguments would be brief. He would try to please her, she knew, and she would try to frustrate him, both socially (since an isolated baby is a helpless baby) and sexually (so that she’d have lots of excuses, when he inevitably broke down, to spank him and keep him on probation). Yes, this moment was liberating for her, and invigorating, and the latest in a long line of moments to be treasured. She had to admit that once again she’d done a hell of a job. They stared at each other for several more moments, with fear growing in his eyes, and glee in hers. Finally she broke the silence. “Do you understand now, young man?” Pause. “Yes,” Doug said quietly. He thought he finally did. “Yes, what?” She loved this moment. It symbolized the entire transformation from independent man to dependent toddler. He knew what she wanted. And he had to obey. “Yes…Mommy.” Doug stared at his feet, trying to come to grips with his new situation. “Good boy. I’m glad we finally understand one another. We’ll have a great time together, I’m sure, now that that’s settled. First, unfortunately, we have some unpleasant business to take care of.” Doug’s head jerked up. What? Oh, my God, he thought. The spanking. She can’t be serious. But Mrs. Warren smiled knowingly at him and patted her lap. Doug was suddenly afraid. He didn’t want this. He’d never considered it as an actual possibility. If he’d known the rules, he would have been good and shaved himself, but he didn’t know, he told himself. It wasn’t fair. “No, please,” Doug said in a high voice that didn’t sound like his own. “I didn’t know. How about if I go upstairs right now and do it? That would be okay, right?” Mrs. Warren smiled and shook her head. “No, I don’t think so. You had your chance all night and this morning. It was to have been done by the time I came. You had a copy of the rules, and I told you you had homework to do. You either deliberately disobeyed, or you weren’t paying enough attention to me. Either way, I think a spanking will be good for you.” “No,” Doug whimpered. This would hurt. He’d fantasized about spankings, but not about the pain. Now that he faced it, he wanted out. “Yes,” Mrs. Warren said firmly. “Don’t keep Mommy waiting. She tends to get more angry when she has to wait, and I don’t think you want that.” Doug swallowed hard, and realized she was right. He forced himself to stand, then to shuffle his feet slowly toward his new Mommy. Chapter 6 He really didn’t want to do this, but he felt that he had to. He took another step toward her, so that he was now within an arm’s reach of her. She said, “You can go ahead and pull those jeans down.” Hands trembling, he moved to obey her, fumbling with his belt. Slowly he undid his belt, unbuckled and unzipped his jeans, and let them slide to the floor, revealing his bulky disposable diaper underneath. “Okay, let’s go,” she said a bit impatiently, indicating her lap. It always took too long the first time. When he hesitated, she reached up and firmly grasped his ear, causing him to yelp with pain. She pulled him roughly down and felt the familiar plastic of a disposable diaper settle on her lap. Doug suddenly found himself staring at the floor, and feeling very helpless. “Is this diaper dirty?” he heard her ask him, for what would not be the last time. “No,” he whimpered feebly. “Good,” she said. “Now grab the chair legs with your hands, and don’t let go. I don’t want to have to fight your hands up here. If you let go, we start again from the beginning. Got it?” “Yes,” came the weak reply. Her voice was so calm, in contrast to how he felt. He reluctantly grasped the chair legs with his hands. Then he heard his diaper being untaped, and suddenly felt a breeze meet his bare bottom. He was scared. His bottom was so vulnerable! He now remembered his childhood spankings, and how helpless he’d felt then. He cursed himself for ever having fantasized about them! SMACK! The first slap was surprisingly painful, but he had no time to think about it. Her hand came down again and again, more quickly than he could process. And to his surprise Doug found himself crying almost immediately, probably as much due to his being upset about the whole situation as to the painful spanking. It hurt, and it was so humiliating. But he kept his hands on the chair legs like a good boy, because he didn’t want to risk the consequences. And shortly, Mrs. Warren stopped spanking him. His crying faded into sniffles. Was that it? It hadn’t lasted as long as he’d feared. It was bad, but it could have been worse. He could almost handle this! “Doug, why are you getting this spanking?” he heard from above him. “I don’t know.” SMACK! “Yes, you do, and call me Mommy.” “Because…I didn’t shave myself, Mommy.” He felt her rub his bottom. That felt good. “That’s right. Good boy.” He let out a deep breath, relieved it was over. “I like to make sure my bad little boys know why they’re getting their spankings. We can keep going now.” And he felt her reach down, saw the purse in his peripheral vision. She seemed to retrieve something, but he couldn’t see what it was. Suddenly it wasn’t her hand caressing his bottom, but something smooth and cool. A brush? A paddle? This couldn’t be good. When the spanking resumed, the pain was sharper, but the sounds of impact had changed. Doug learned that his trial was not nearly over yet. And he cried again, out of pain and the frustration of being helpless. Twice more she stopped to have him repeat why he was being spanked, and twice more they resumed. It seemed to go on forever, far longer than he’d expected, and it hurt more than anything he could remember. His bottom burned and stung intensely. Finally she stopped, saying, “Will you remember to shave under your diaper now, little boy?” Gasping, Doug replied, “Yes. Yes, Mommy.” “Good boy. Would you like Mommy to shave you now?” “Yes, Mommy,” he sobbed, hoping that was the answer she wanted to hear. “Alright, let’s go upstairs.” And she stood him up, folding his diaper in one hand. His hands went immediately to his stinging bottom. “No, no, young man,” Mrs. Warren said, brushing his hands down. “That’s a no-no. We don’t touch our bottoms after our spanking, because that makes it feel better. We want it to hurt for as long as possible, don’t we? That way we keep thinking about what a bad little boy we were. Okay? No touching.” He choked back tears. “Yes, Mommy.” He hated her, but was desperate at this moment to stay on her good side. He kept his hands away from his throbbing bottom. She led him upstairs to the bathtub, which she filled with warm water. At her instruction, he lowered himself into the water carefully. He was happy to find that, in the water, his rear end didn’t hurt. But it wouldn’t have mattered. He was going to be good. He didn’t ever want another spanking as long as he lived. He watched as she found some shaving lotion and a razor and lathered up his groin. He bit his lip as she shaved away his pubic hair, starting at the top and moving down around his penis and scrotum. He stayed very still, because he didn’t like something sharp so close to him like that. But she was quite adept with the razor, and he imagined she’d had lots of practice. With a sure hand, she easily took away this vestige of his adulthood, and he looked down in amazement at his bald crotch. It looked so strange. He lay back and lifted his legs, as instructed, and she continued down around his bottom. Doug idly wondered how long his hair would take to grow back, but he needn’t have. It wouldn’t be an issue for a long time. When they were done, he let her lead him back into his bedroom, where she diapered him for the first time. She did it tenderly, stroking and rubbing him gently. It felt good, he had to admit. He fought feelings of affection for her as she did this, but it was hard. She was so gentle and loving as she covered him with lotion and powder, lots of powder, and then taped him securely in. It actually felt nice, though he tried to ignore this. This was the same lady who had just spanked him. His ambivalence frustrated him. Afterward, she picked up the copy of the rules that he had laying by the bed (“Why didn’t I read those?” he asked himself again) and led him, wearing nothing but his diaper, downstairs to the sofa, where she read the rules out loud to him, like a bedtime story. [SEE RULES] OFFICIAL ICP RULES Welcome to your new life! Welcome to your Incontinence Control Program (ICP)! The philosophy of our program is based on the idea that “Continence Comes First.” As you know, continence is one of the very first skills you learn, and is a prerequisite to successful functioning in our society. If you are incontinent, whether you are a baby learning for the first time, or someone like yourself who needs to start over from the beginning, controlling incontinence and regaining continence should take precedence over all other aspects of your life. Otherwise, everything else in your life will suffer. Our program is successful because it helps you properly prioritize your incontinence, which is the first step toward controlling and, later, eliminating this embarrassing problem. There are three essential elements to your personal ICP. First, as is true with any problem, the most important step is admitting from the start that you have a problem. Many of our incontinent clients have trouble admitting that they have trouble with such a basic issue as keeping their pants dry or clean. After all, even small children master keeping their pants clean and dry. To help you face up to this very real problem, we force you to confront your incontinence continually via the wearing and usage of adult-sized baby diapers. They are a visible and tactile symbol of your inability to stay clean and dry. The day to day care of your diapers and diaper area, as well as the difficulty you will face in hiding them from other people, will constantly remind you that you do indeed have an childish problem which needs prompt and constant attention. The second part of your ICP is control, the literal center of your program’s name. You were enrolled in this program, at least in part, because of a demonstrated habit of wetting or messing in your pants or bed. You do not need to be told how embarrassing wet or messy pants can be around other people. Even one accident has the potential to ruin relationships, job opportunities, and other critical aspects of your life. Repeated accidents almost guarantee social and business ostracism. To help you salvage the rest of your life before it is permanently damaged, we offer, via diapers, a foolproof method of preventing these all-too-visible accidents. And while having the occasional person find out that you wear diapers might seem embarrassing to you, it does not even come close to approximating the devastating effects of an unprotected accident in public. Wearing a diaper tells the people that do find out about them that you are aware of, are responsible for, and are taking effective actions against these repulsive social gaffes. It may very well impress them! The third principle of our program is essential and, at the same time, often painful: discipline. It is, however, the cornerstone of your hope to regain your continence, and it must take priority right from the outset. We involve discipline in our program in many different ways. For example, we know that it’s difficult to submit to the embarrassment of wearing diapers all the time. But the very act of trying to live with this embarrassment is excellent disciplinary training. So is maintaining good diaper hygiene on a daily basis. And so is following the list of rules which follows, and submitting to punishment when appropriate. Punishment can play a small or large role in our ICPs, depending on your dedication to the ICP rules. It is primarily designed to instill discipline, which is often lacking in clients like yourself. It may be, in fact, the lack of such discipline which has led to your inability to remain toilet-trained. Your participation in this program will hopefully lead you to develop the kind of discipline that will allow you to begin the second stage of your ICP, your Continence Retraining Program. But that’s a long way off in the future! For now, we simply want you to concentrate on your ICP. As you can see, with diapers and discipline, we can help you face your incontinence problem, control embarrassing accidents, and create a foundation of discipline upon which you can build for years to come. This is the philosophy of our program here at TIC. It has proven to be very effective both in controlling our clients’ incontinence and also in maintaining participation in our program over the long run, an area where other programs often fall short. How long will you be in your ICP? This is a question often asked but difficult to answer. People vary in the severity of their incontinence problems and in their attitude about their ICPs. Not cooperating with us will delay your progression toward getting off of probation and moving toward retraining. Since the critical goal is for you to achieve a certain level of discipline and control, there is no upper limit to how long you may have to stay in your ICP. You have signed a legal contract to participate in your ICP, and this binds you to continue with us until the TIC person in charge of your care and training (your TIC mommy) believes you are ready to move on. And this depends entirely on you and how you respond to your ICP. Cooperation makes TIC very happy, and you will move that much more quickly toward being able to use a toilet and wearing underpants again. Think of that! It certainly is something to work toward! So read these rules carefully and refer to them often. Post the mini-list at the end in several prominent places around your home, to help you remember how to be a good boy. Good luck, and be good! DIAPERS: Your assigned diaper, to be supplied to you by your TIC mommy, is to be worn by you AT ALL TIMES. This means twenty-four hours/day, everywhere you go (eg. while sleeping, to school, to work, on errands, to doctor’s appointments, to the beach, etc.). While embarrassment about wearing your diaper is common and natural, it is very important to wear one at all times. The only exceptions are that you may briefly remove your diaper for changing purposes or for baths/showers; try to make the time you spend out of your diaper for these purposes as brief as possible, while still maintaining good diaper-area hygiene. To help you remember to wear your diaper constantly, we have by this time, or will have in the near future, removed all your big-boy underpants from your home, and you will not be allowed to own any in the future, until such time as you are continent again. You may think of wearing underpants as a privilege to be earned, just as if you were a small child. To be allowed to wear your underpants again, you need to demonstrate a high level of continence skill. NOTE: Many pools and beaches forbid infants in diapers to swim in the water. THIS INCLUDES YOU, and so even though it is inconvenient, we ask you to obey these signs where they are posted. Rules are there to be obeyed. DISCIPLINE: Especially during your initial probation period, you will be checked often to be sure you are wearing your diaper. Your TIC mommy will have a key and permission to enter your home, and may enter unannounced up to several times a day, including overnight, to make sure you are being a good boy. School and work schedules will be furnished to your TIC mommy, and you will notify her of dates and errands, so that she may check on you during these times outside your home as well. For specific disciplinary measures, see below under “DISCIPLINE.” TOILET VS. DIAPER USAGE: For the foreseeable future, until your TIC mommy tells you differently, you are to use your diaper for all your bowel and bladder needs. This means that you are not to use any toilet at all until you are told that it is okay to do so. Unauthorized toilet usage will be met with severe penalties from your TIC mommy. At your home we help you by preventing toilet usage completely, usually by turning off, draining, and locking all of your home’s toilets. We add urine-sensitive blue dye to the remaining toilet water, and your TIC mommy will check the toilets (every day at first) to make sure that you have been good. If you live with roommates or a spouse who needs to use the toilets, we will either give them other special dyes, or keys to unlock the toilets, and they will be asked to take an active role in preventing you from using them. Public and guest restrooms elsewhere cannot be similarly equipped, of course, but remember that TIC mommies usually know where their TIC “babies” are, and almost always have an eye on them wherever they are. They may follow them personally, or hire other friendly babysitters to keep their eyes on you while you are at work or out shopping. Be aware that even suspicious loitering around a public restroom, let alone going in, may be grounds for serious punishment. In the interest of avoiding painful misunderstandings, please stay away from these areas and simply use your diaper appropriately. The other way in which you are encouraged to use your diapers is through the recollection of used diapers. As you take off a wet or messy diaper, wrap it up and place it in the bag placed in your diaper pail by your TIC mommy. At the end of each week, when your new diapers are delivered, we will pick up your bag(s) of used diapers for you. TIC counts them and compares the total for the week with your quota, which is set by your TIC mommy. This number will be calculated to estimate your weekly diaper needs at full usage. Therefore, if you turn in fewer than your quota, we know you’ve used a toilet and/or not worn your diaper all the time. This, of course, necessitates punishment. Please note the following as well: Your quota includes a total minimum number of diapers, IN ADDITION TO specifically a minimum number of messy diapers for the week. This minimum number of messy diapers is usually nine diapers per week, or just over one messy diaper each day. Each diaper must be fully “used,” ie. the wetness indicator in disposables >2/3 wet. This includes messy diapers. Diapers are tested by TIC for genuineness of urine with special chemical tests. These tests can determine if you’ve “doctored” a diaper (eg. added water, peed onto it while not wearing it, etc.). Extensive experience allows us to easily identify these diapers and the bad little boys who try to mislead us, and punishment for this infraction is particularly severe. Not meeting diaper quotas will obviously lead to punishment and/or “help.” See below. HYGIENE: Diaper are hygiene is extremely important in preventing diaper rash, which will make you very uncomfortable, and which often requires embarrassing trips to see the doctor. It is also a good way to practice your discipline, and to prove to your TIC mommy that you are a responsible and disciplined client. Hygiene includes: Shaving: It is expected that you will keep your diaper area (ie. ALL hair on skin that is covered by your diaper) closely shaven at all times. TIC mommies will begin checking your diaper area within twenty-four hours from when you start your ICP to make sure you are well-shaven. We recommend that you shave yourself every two to three days to keep yourself clean and comfortable. Shaving makes messy cleanups MUCH easier, and provides less area for diaper rash to fester. Your TIC mommy hates to see hair down there! She will check you often to see that your skin is as smooth now as it was during your first infancy. Showers/baths: We recommend showers or bubble baths every day. Many clients enjoy showering right after removing a messy diaper, to help them clean up. This is fine as long as you keep your bathtub/shower well-cleaned from day to day. Your TIC mommy will check this. During showers or baths you are expected to wash your diaper area very thoroughly, including both orifices. These are areas with very sensitive skin which must be kept clean. Diaper changes: Since you must use every diaper fully, which often means wearing a diaper long after it has been initially wet or dirtied, it is critical that you use vaseline, lotions, and/or powder to keep your skin in good shape. It is generally up to you to choose what combination you like the best, though your TIC mommy may have some special rules or suggestions for you. She will also provide you with any and all supplies you may need for this purpose. SEX: By enrolling in this program you have promised not to engage in any sexual activity until after your restored continence has been documented and your participation in your ICP has been terminated. The parameters of this rule should be clear, but we have found it necessary in the past to elaborate on this point. “Sexual activity” for boys means any situation which involves an erection or orgasm/ejaculation. In other words, you are not allowed to ejaculate while in this program; this includes sex with other people as well as masturbation. The reasons for this are simple and important. It is a matter of priority. Incontinence control requires full concentration all day long, every day. Since boys use the same part of their bodies for urination as for sex, some boys become confused and/or preoccupied when faced with the opportunity to use their penises for more than one purpose. You need your full energy and concentration in order to return to full continence, and anything, like sex, which takes your mind off this process, is counterproductive. At TIC, we believe there is another benefit to abstaining from sex while in the program. We like to use it as an incentive to cooperate with us in restoring your lost control. It fits in with the rest of the program: think of it as though you are a little boy who is growing up slowly. Parents use the promise of underpants as inducement toward continence; we use this as well, plus the promise of once again being able to enjoy the grown-up pleasures of sex. Babies don’t have sex, and while you are in diapers, neither will you. We know, however, that boys like you have trouble controlling their strong sexual urges, so we have devised several ways to help. First, we obtain agreements from significant others not to participate in sexual activity with you, to actively discourage you from engaging in any activity, and to report any suspected or witnessed activity to us directly, so that we may help you in avoiding such activity in the future. Second, we try to eliminate opportunities and the temptation for you to indulge in these naughty acts when you are alone, via several ways: You must always wear your diaper, as already mentioned. All diapers are meticulously tested chemically for ejaculate (eg. semen, sperm, etc.) when turned in. All disposable paper products are removed from your home permanently. You have no need for toilet paper, and other needs, such as kleenex or paper towels, can be satisfied with cloth products like handkerchieves or towels. All laundry is examined carefully by your TIC mommy before you are allowed to wash it. You are not allowed to touch yourself between the legs, even through your diapers, for any purpose other than cleaning, and these times are to be kept brief. Because some boys have demonstrated extreme resourcefulness in deceiving us, chemicals have been added to your sinks and bathtub/shower which will turn bright red if these surfaces come into contact with any ejaculate. These chemicals are permanent and are impossible to remove (this has been tried, and trust us, it does not work). Breaking the sex prohibition is treated very harshly, with both punitive and preventative measures often being taken. We believe strongly that sexual activity must be avoided by you at all costs, and we will work with you to eliminate these acts if they become a problem. This is a supreme example of how discipline plays a role in your ICP. If you believe you may have a problem with masturbation or other naughty activities in the future, please discuss this with your TIC mommy from the outset, so that we may prevent any problems from occurring. DISCIPLINE: As one of the central tenets in your ICP, discipline is obviously very important. In addition to the aforementioned role it plays in successful continence, it plays a large role in encouraging your active participation in this program as well. Discipline comes in two varieties in your ICP: self-imposed, the kind we want you to develop for yourself, and externally-imposed, in the form of punishment. Both of these types, if you have not already encountered them, will become very familiar to you in the near future. When we sat down to devise the punishments we thought would be most helpful to you in developing your discipline, we decided to focus on what would be most meaningful to you in your ICP. In keeping with the idea that you are starting from the beginning again (eg. wearing diapers, looking forward to toilet-training, etc.), we thought that a most infantile punishment, the spanking, might be most appropriate. It not only reminds you of your infantile incontinence, but it will reinforce your relationship with your TIC mommy, which ought to be that of a mother-toddler. There should be an element of nurturing and caretaking, but also an element of strict discipline as well. This mother-toddler relationship is a perfect analogy of what we think will work best; after all, nature uses it every day to teach continence the first time! The following list includes brief glimpses of some of the more common punishments doled out by mommies in the past. It is certainly not exclusive, and mommies have the liberty to devise and use nearly any sort of punishment if they think it will help you improve your self-discipline. The only limitations are that we ask TIC mommies to tone down punishment in public, unless necessary, and we forbid any punishment that might lead to permanent physical injury. Spankings: These are often the straightforward and old-fashioned type, with you being bare-bottomed and over your TIC mommy’s knee, given with an open hand. However, they are subject to modification by inventive mommies. In certain circumstances they may be given in public (see below) but usually are given in the privacy of your home. Given for a wide variety of offenses, including not wearing your diapers, poor hygiene, not shaving, backtalk, disobeying your mommy, touching yourself, having an unauthorized orgasm, being spotted near a public restroom, and going on errands without first telling your TIC mommy. Spankings are usually given without warnings beforehand, so if you have a doubt about whether you might be breaking a rule, ASK. The Wet Bet: This is a favorite of our mommies, so look out. TIC mommies love to visit their babies in public places and check to see if they are wearing their diapers by challenging them with the Wet Bet. It is not to be feared by good little boys who always wear their diapers, but it can become quite an embarrassing or painful problem for naughty little boys caught without their diapers on. In the Wet Bet, your mommy will bet you that you are wearing your diaper, and will then ask you to wet it for her. Good boys wind up with a wet diaper that simply needs changing, but bad boys end up with very wet pants in very public places. Refusing to take the bet leads to an immediate spanking wherever you happen to be at the time. You are told about this at the beginning so that you are not tempted to go without your diaper in public. You WILL be asked to take the Wet Bet, so be good and always wear your diaper. Bowel Encouragement: This is not so much a punishment as an old-fashioned medicinal treatment. If you fail to turn in your required quota of messy diapers for the week, you force your mommy to conclude that you are constipated and need a little help moving your bowels. This is most often accomplished using the suppository series, wherein your mommy encourages you to move your bowels by giving you a series of powerful suppositories in sequential diapers during a twenty-four hour period. Each diaper must be worn until your mommy thinks the suppository has done its job fully, and then you may be changed and given a fresh suppository. We find this treatment to be very effective, and often one series is the only such treatment any one client ever needs to help keep him regular and obedient. Humiliation: As mentioned, driving home your infantile status is effective both in reminding you of your underlying problem and in reinforcing your relationship with your mommy. Humiliation, both formally and informally, is often used by our mommies to emphasize what they feel is undisciplined or immature behavior. Being forced to eat baby food, or to use bibs, bottles, baby talk, and baby clothing and furniture often makes the point very clearly to our clients. Each mommy has her own favorite ways of embarrassing you, so be warned now. Avoiding this treatment, or escaping it once it has started, is only accomplished by accepting your punishment like a big boy and following all the rules (ie. growing up in your mommy’s eyes). Some of this humiliation inevitably occurs in public, but you can minimize this by being as good as possible. Wearing diapers is embarrassing, we know. Don’t make things any worse. Misc. Our mommies have your permission to use other forms of corporal, psychological, and diaper punishment on you at any time if it is felt appropriate and abides by the rules outlined above. A final word: no one is perfect, so you can expect to be punished, probably many times, over the duration of your ICP. We have yet to meet an ICP boy who doesn’t need an occasional spanking, or who isn’t better behaved afterward. (Of course, we also have yet to meet an ICP boy who thinks he needs the spanking! We wouldn’t expect any less. Boys are boys, after all.) How often will you be spanked? That is entirely up to you. Nobody likes to be punished, but our goal is to try to help you become more responsible and disciplined, and your punishment will help you move closer toward getting out of your diapers and back into underpants. It might be difficult to recall how good the punishment is for you when you are perched on a lap sunny-side up, or if you are forced to wet your pants in public, or spend an entire day in a VERY messy diaper, but if you can learn anything from it, it is worthwhile. Admit your mistake, accept your punishment, learn from it, and move on. 6) PROBATION: You are automatically on probation when you begin your ICP. While on probation you are subject to very close supervision and very strict discipline. Visits from your mommy to home and in public are frequent, and punishment is more severe. Its duration may vary in length from several weeks to several years, in the worst case, depending on your cooperation and attitude. Your mommy will take you off of probation when she is convinced that you will unfalteringly adhere to the rules and the philosophy of your ICP. Most clients initially appreciate this attention to detail, but we view getting off probation as one of the initial signs that you may be developing enough discipline to merit terminating your ICP and beginning toilet-re-training. 7) TERMINATION: Because our punishment often generates strong temporary urges to terminate participation in the ICP, we have made exit from an ICP relatively difficult, at the request of our clients. However, continence is the skill by which everyone in this program is judged, and if you demonstrate perfect continence, you may terminate your ICP. Our anticipation is that you will not regain continence until after finishing your ICP and undergoing our intense second step of the program, the Continence Retraining Program. You can take the short-cut, however, if you satisfy one of two criterion: a) Pass a continence test given to you by your TIC mommy. The use of mild “diaper juice” during a three hour continence test has been proved to be a reliable differentiator between who needs to be in our program and who does not. b) Get a signed note from an impartial physician testifying to your total continence of bowel and bladder. This is an available option only after six months of an ICP, since this is the established minimally therapeutic time in our program. Your TIC mommy will furnish you with a list of TIC-recognized physicians eligible to evaluate your continence status. Your mommy may ask you to obey certain other rules, and she, of course, has every authority to impose them on you. It is difficult to follow an ICP correctly all the time, but TIC has a proven history of EFFECTIVE INCONTINENCE CONTROL. Your full cooperation makes our job easier and your life more enjoyable. Good luck, and be a good boy! MINI-LIST OF RULES (to be posted in prominent places in your home) ALWAYS wear your diapers. Use them and them alone for all of your potty needs. Keep yourself CLEAN and SHAVEN. Use your diapers COMPLETELY, and SAVE them in your diaper pail for your TIC mommy. NEVER touch yourself in naughty ways or have any sort of sexual activity. ALWAYS do what your TIC mommy tells you to do. ACCEPT YOUR PUNISHMENT and try to learn from it. LOVE your mommy; she’s here to help! As he listened to the introduction, he fought the tendency to buy into the philosophy. But it sounded almost reasonable to him, and he wondered if they really did care about him and about helping him. But then again, it was so perverse. How could it be on the level? It was so extremely humiliating, he thought, to be lumped in with people who wet their pants or their beds, and to be treated like he was a baby. And how could they think this would really “help” him? They couldn’t be serious. This wasn’t a joke or a game. They really were going to treat him like a baby, on purpose, because they said he deserved it. The whole thing, “Working toward wearing underpants again,” made him feel so infantile. It really was stupid, he decided, not helpful. They couldn’t fool him. Other thoughts that ran through his mind as Mrs. Warren read what was to become his bible for the foreseeable future involved how he could fake compliance with these rules. There had to be flaws he could find. He was smart, and he had to be able to figure it out. Unfortunately, Mrs. Warren was smart, too, maybe even smarter, and she appeared experienced at this job. As she read the diaper rules, he saw how smart she was. Testing diapers seemed like a lot of work for her! But if they really did it, that neutralized many of his first disobedient ideas. He wondered if they really did do it, and how. He was trying to think about how he could fake using the diapers (peeing into them without really wearing them, etc.) when his new Mommy told him how her inspectors look for wetting patterns like splattering that gives away bad babies. Wet diapers have to look right, she said, which is impossible without wearing them. He became even more dismayed about the messy diaper quota and rules. He didn’t look forward to having to “fully use” his messy diapers. That meant wearing them for a while after he pooped, right? Being forced to wear messy diapers was gross, and would significantly add to his cleanup time. Using a shower would help, but what if he was away from home? The part about avoiding public bathrooms struck him as being impossible to enforce. Then he remembered how she had gone over with him his shopping and banking habits. She really would know where he was all the time. But seriously--who would be watching? He also had to call her whenever he left his apartment to go out. Doug could just leave a message on her cellular phone mail, so she could keep track of him all the time. But Mrs. Warren said she had other “clients.” How did she keep track of all of them? He thought that maybe this was an opportunity. He’d have to keep it in mind. It was when they got to the sex prohibition that he really got depressed. From the moment she read him the rules, he knew he’d never be able to follow them. He could nearly accept being forced to live his secret fetish and ultimate fantasy. It was painful, confining, and humiliating, but at least it was his fetish. He was even now feeling strong sexualurg es, and it was these that he thought would make this lifestyle palatable. But no sex? No masturbation? He couldn’t imagine. He now did that daily, and that was without a diaper in contact with him. Being sentenced to be in perpetual contact with his fetish object but never being allowed to climax, this was the best description of hell he could think of. He couldn’t live with that rule. He’d either have to get out of the program (which he was still determined to do) or figure out some way of getting around it. But his heart sunk as he listened to her precautions. He didn’t know where he could hide the evidence if his diapers, tissues, laundry, and tub/sinks were off limits. Could she really test all of these? That red dye sounded fake. And what if he smuggled home some tissues and then threw them away back at work? Hmmm… His mind wandered as she read him about his discipline. Spankings, and some wet thing, messy diapers, blah, blah, blah. How had this happened to him? It had only taken four days for his life to be ruined by two women. He’d just wanted some diapers for this week, for a little kinky fun. Now, he was living a nightmare, forced back into an embarrassing toddlerhood filled with spankings and diapers. He had just allowed himself to be spanked and shaved. He felt so degraded. How could this be real? But the alternatives were even worse, he told himself. At least this way, the rest of his life was still intact, and if he could somehow still get out of this program, nothing would be lost. He was still on target for his high-prestige life of research and academia, somewhere in the future. His dream was still intact, even if he had to sacrifice a little more for a few days or weeks to achieve it. Doug’s attention was refocused when she started talking about termination of the program. Another continence test, which he didn’t want to think about, or a trip to a doctor. That would be embarrassing, sure, but at least it couldn’t be tampered with. At least here was a foolproof way out, if everything else failed and six months from now he was still in diapers. This made him feel better: there was an upper limit to this madness. At the most, this surreal distraction would end in six months, and then he could return to his life. Mrs. Warren finished her little dramatic reading and helped him tape up copies of the mini-list all over his apartment. She then assured him she’d be back often in the next few days and nights to check on him. After a fond little pat on his diapered behind, she left. Doug watched his Mommy drive away in her pink pastel diaper van, and snaked his hands down the back of his diaper, finally able to rub his still-sore bottom in peace. Chapter 7 When Doug had spent several minutes soothing his hot, red bottom, he sat down in stunned amazement to consider what his life had suddenly been turned into. He thought of the mounds of diapers up in his room, destined to be worn and used by him in the near future. He thought of being forced to call Mrs. Warren “Mommy,” and essentially forced to do anything she told him to do. It was so humiliating. How could he possibly live with this? But what could he do? he asked himself. He told himself over and over that he had no choice. That it didn’t matter how he got here and what he thought about it. He simply had to play baby now, or risk losing the rest of his life. It was unfair, and miserable, but he had to be realistic: it was his only option if he didn’t want to be the laughingstock of his family, friends, and colleagues. He stared down at the bulky diaper he had sentenced himself to wear. Because he had gotten cute and self-righteous over the phone with Mrs. Sheffield, he was now going to wear the thickest, loudest diaper ever. It would undoubtedly be noticeable, and even more embarrassing was how much he had contributed to this situation. If he hadn’t gone into the store, if he hadn’t lied about being incontinent, if he hadn’t lied about wanting such an unmanageable diaper, if he hadn’t agreed to the incontinence test…there were so many ways he could have avoided this, he thought. But at every step, he’d made the wrong move, and now he was stuck. Stuck in a diaper so thick he wasn’t sure he could even masturbate through it, even if that was allowed. But, of course, he had been operating under the assumption that this was a game of which he had control. He now knew differently, but it was too late. This diaper service was a business, and a serious one at that. And he had just contracted them to enslave him in diapers. He snorted. It sounded like a dream come true. But--at least according to how his bottom felt right now--it was closer to a nightmare. He had to take this situation day by day. If he tried to deal with the whole thing, he’d get too depressed. But if he only thought about the next day, he could get through. Tomorrow wouldn’t be too bad. In fact, this week wouldn’t be too embarrassing, since he was studying at home alone. This was almost what he had intended for this week, anyway. No one had to know. Next week would be interesting, though, when he went back to work. How would he ever keep his co-workers in the dark? Bulky clothes, he mused… His real life would be quite a challenge. For the next day, though, his job was easy. Study as much as possible from his GRE Review Book, and, in the words of Mrs. Warren, “be a good little boy.” He actually didn’t care how ridiculous that sounded: right now, and for as long as his bottom kept hurting, he was happy to wear his diaper compliantly, and do anything else he needed to. He wasn’t interested in risking another spanking right now. Doug was surprised to find his diarrhea clearing up fairly quickly that afternoon. Mrs. Warren was right again, he thought. He didn’t like to admit it, but she seemed to know everything. And as his diarrhea slowed, he noticed that his diaper consumption was slowing as well. He thought about this idly during dinner. He would have to worry about this “diaper quota”. He calculated his usage for the week at his new, slower rate, and realized he’d be hard-pressed to wet enough diapers. And if he didn’t, he knew what awaited him. So he began to drink more that evening. This, he only half noticed, had the effect (desired by Mrs. Warren) of his spending more and more time in partially-wet diapers, as he conscientiously waited to saturate them fully. By the next day, Thursday, Doug was consciously starting to relax his sphincter control, wetting whenever he felt the urge. His diapers held almost anything, and as long as he had the opportunity to relax and not worry about control, why not? At this point, it wasn’t like it was important whether he tried to hold it back or not. The rules didn’t reward him for that! So who needs it? If I have to be a baby, I might as well take advantage of it, he thought. It’s the only perk of this stupid situation, after all. On Thursday, for the first time, Doug felt the need for the first time to have a real, formed BM. This was another little landmark for him, since it involved using his diaper for an “optional” mess: it wasn’t like the diarrhea, where he was controlling an emergent situation. It also necessitated wearing the diaper for some time afterward, since he hadn’t wet in it yet. It usually felt good, but today, as he squished around in his full pants, he couldn’t shake the feeling that he was being forced to do this, to wear his poop-filled diaper. Mrs. Warren was making him do this, and for some reason that made it less fun. Mrs. Warren stopped by occasionally and was pleased when she checked Doug’s diaper, diaper pail, toilets, and tub. She acknowledged his good behavior with a sticker on his refrigerator, about which she said he should be proud. He found it difficult to get excited about a sticker. It was just one more embarrassing element to this absurd program. Mrs. Warren had expected this good behavior. It was typical of her new boys for the first few days, what she called the “honeymoon” period. Their bottoms still stung, and the potential humiliation of the photos was still fresh in their minds. They also weren’t yet bored with the program, and hadn’t had enough time to build up a huge amount of sexual tension. This would all change, she knew... Doug did come up with some questions for Mrs. Warren, however, as he found minor problems with the ICP. How, for example, was he supposed to blow his nose if she had forbidden all paper products from his apartment? It was easily solved, Mrs. Warren said, by using an old-fashioned handkerchief, which, like his other laundry, was to be inspected by her before he took it to the complex’s laundry room. Working out details to another problem, Doug agreed to shave himself every other day to keep his bottom and groin smooth. On Friday, he did this for the first time, and found that it wasn’t too difficult, except for his ego. Saturday was the day of his big test, and, knowing this, Mrs. Warren showed up at his apartment early in the morning to see him off. She presented him with a large, pink pastel diaper bag, which he was not so pleased to receive. It was so frilly and infantile that it could not be mistaken for anything other than what it was. He pled his case to her that it was just too embarrassing to take out in public, but Mrs. Warren said that it was more important to be prepared properly than to be socially comfortable, and she therefore wouldn’t accept his excuses. This brought up an issue Doug hadn’t considered before. Surely there would be times when he’d have to change himself in public, but how was this possible if he wasn’t allowed near restrooms? It wasn’t so hard, said Mrs. Warren. First of all, any time he went out, he should already have informed her, so that she or a babysitter could watch him. If the possibility of needing a change existed, they would know about it, and could appropriately interpret his usage of a bathroom. If he used it to change himself, he should naturally have a used diaper to show for it, and this could be checked when he arrived home. He was, however, warned that any trip to a public restroom would be carefully watched and, often, timed. Some of his “babysitters” might even be male and could follow him in. Any activity conspicuous for masturbation or using a toilet would be punished as such. As long as he hurried and was a good boy, he’d be okay. So he went off with his pink diaper bag to take his test. It lasted through lunch, and he found that by restricting fluids, he didn’t have a problem needing a change. This was a relief for him. No one even noticed his bag, or his bulky bottom, or his waddle, or his rustling, probably because everyone was so preoccupied with the test. Doug came home from the test impressed with his academic performance, considering all the stress he’d been under during the preceding week. With the test finished Saturday night, though, Doug started thinking about the future. He was worried about going grocery shopping tomorrow, his first errand outside his apartment wearing diapers. He also started thinking more long-term, and he was already tired of wearing these huge diapers. It was a pain. In all of his fantasies, he’d never imagined he could miss the convenience of the toilet, but he was starting to. It took longer to change messy diapers, and cleaning himself was tedious and, often, gross. Fussing with tapes and getting the fit right took practice. It would be so much easier to pop into a bathroom and use a urinal. In addition, there was also the growing problem of his mounting sexual appetite. He hadn’t come in several days, and that was just about a record for him. Plus, he wasn’t excited about resuming his public life on Monday when he went back to work. Hiding these bulky diapers might be impossible, and would at the very least be a huge social burden he’d have to deal with constantly. All in all, he was beginning to feel far less obedient than he had over the past few days. He was starting to see that, just as he’d feared, he couldn’t live this life constantly. It wasn’t practical or desirable. If he was going to cope, he’d have to figure out some ways to cut corners, to express his independence in little, harmless ways, and to maintain a vestige of his former autonomy. He mulled this over in his head, before forming a plan for tomorrow. He needed groceries. He assumed he’d be followed, or something, but he wondered how Mrs. Warren would follow him if she didn’t know he’d left. What if he left right after she visited tomorrow? She never returned right away. She’d never know. And if she didn’t know, he could venture out without his diaper, and not risk embarrassment tomorrow at the store… It made him a little nervous to think about, but it had to work, right? If he was scared, he could always take along a diaper in the car, into which he might be able to change quickly if he somehow met Mrs. Warren on the way there or back. And he’d hurry, to cut down further the chance of being discovered. The risk, he calculated, had to be miniscule. And the symbolism, and implications for later, were enormous to him. If he could poke a little hole in her regime, there might be other opportunities later. His life might end up being manageable after all. Doug went to sleep Saturday night excited, with the first bit of hope about the future that he’d had in days. As he settled into bed, feeling the now-familiar thick cushion between his legs, and hearing the omnipresent crinkling of his diaper, he could hardly wait until for what the next day would bring. If he’d known what would really happen, however, he wouldn’t have wanted ever to wake up. Mrs. Warren visited Doug around noon on Sunday, which was great for Doug’s plans. After she left, he watched the diaper van exit the apartment complex’s parking lot, and as soon as it disappeared, he ran upstairs and took off his diaper. He was going to leave it at home, but on second thought, just to be safe, he folded it carefully and decided to take it with him, on the off chance he saw Mrs. Warren on the way to the grocery store. He wasn’t going to take any chances. He pulled his jeans back up, and immediately noticed how strange not wearing a diaper felt after only a couple of days. It felt weirder, of course, because he didn’t have any underwear to wear, so his normally-insulated skin was in direct contact with his rough jeans. In addition, for the first time in fifteen years, he had no pubic hair, so he felt the odd sensation of breezes drifting through his crotch periodically. But he had to hurry. He didn’t want to be out of his diaper for more than forty-five minutes this first time. It would be too horrible if she found out. Later, he might explore the limits of his freedom, but right now he wanted to play it very conservatively. So he took the spare diaper, grabbed his keys, and jumped into the car. He drove carefully to the grocery store, keeping an eye out for pastel-colored vans, but as he expected, didn’t see any. He quickly made his way inside the store, grabbed a cart, and efficiently started collecting the items he needed. He was organized and fast; he wanted to take no chances. He breezed through several aisles before seeing the one thing that could make his heart skip a beat. Mrs. Warren was in the store! He saw her near the cash registers, but she didn’t see him, he thought. She didn’t have a cart, so it appeared that she must just be looking for something specific. Suddenly it hit him. She was looking for him. He didn’t know how, but she’d found him. He peeked down an aisle and saw her crossing it at the other end. He knew what he had to try to do: guess where she was heading, and go the other way. He could still escape, get home, and get into a diaper before she caught him. It wasn’t a sure bet, but it was possible. He could be quite savvy in these situations. But damn! How had she found him? And now he questioned why he had even taken this chance. His bottom tingled. He didn’t want to cross this lady again. He was still a little sore from the first spanking, for God’s sake. Forty-five minutes out of a diaper was hardly worth this risk, he belatedly realized. Thinking quickly, Doug reversed his direction and turned down an aisle, pushing his cart with urgency. He was halfway down the aisle, thinking he might actually make it past the registers and safely to his car, when Mrs. Warren suddenly appeared directly in front of him at the end of the aisle. How?..Doug froze in panic. Seeing him, she turned and strode toward him. Doug began to feel queasy. What would happen now? He was in an extremely vulnerable situation: he’d snuck out of the apartment without telling her, and he wasn’t wearing his diaper. He feared the worst, and Mrs. Warren wasn’t one to disappoint. “Well, Douggie, what a surprise it is to see you here,” she said with more than a hint of sarcasm. “I didn’t know you were headed out. Maybe we’ve forgotten some of our rules?” She paused, letting her eyes sweep over him in a quick, practiced assessment of his diaper status. Doug felt his body tense; he (correctly) surmised that she now knew that he was undiapered. He stared at her face, looking for any sign of this fact, but her expression didn’t change. “Well, Doug, I know it’s early in your ICP, and there are a lot of rules to remember, so why don’t we go easy on you here?” she said, with just a little too much sweetness in her voice for Doug’s taste. “We’ll just play the Wet Bet and leave it at that. Okay? If you win, no punishment for leaving home without telling me. But,” she smiled at him knowingly. “If you lose, you lose.” Doug's mind swirled. The Wet Bet. He’d read about it, he thought. But what was it? She read his mind. “I know you haven’t yet played this little game, so I’ll describe it for you. It’s very simple. I make a bet with you that you’re not wearing your diaper now. I know you’re a good little boy, so I’m sure I’m wrong, but you just need to prove it to me. “So I ask you to wet for me right now. You pee, and then we see who wins the bet. If you win, and you’re wearing your diaper, then you only end up with a wet diaper that we can change very easily. If I win, and you don’t have a diaper on, that fact will become very obvious very soon. In that case…” Her voice trailed off, indicating the undesirability of that outcome. “But either way, I have to insist you take the bet.” She went on, “Your only other option would be a particularly severe spanking right here in this aisle. Most of my boys don’t like their pants pulled down in public, so I don’t get to do that very often. They always take the bet.” She sort of smirked at him. “Well, what’ll it be? You wanna take the bet?” Now Doug was scared. She had him pinned against a wall, and she knew it. Wetting his pants in public versus a spanking in public. He’d had a spanking before, though, and decided that even public humiliation by wetting his pants be better than that. Anything would be better than a public spanking! He swallowed hard, as he realized he really had no choice. At least if he sucked it up and wet himself right now he’d avoid any other punishment. It would be humiliating, but it would be otherwise painless, and over very quickly. Then he could go right home and change. He stared at the floor and nodded. She smiled cruelly, though he didn’t see it. “That’s a good boy. Now, here’s how we’ll do it. I’ll turn around, and you can start peeing. Then you’ll tell me when you’re done, and we’ll try to figure out who won. If your pants are dry, I’ll need to see your diaper, of course, to make sure you didn’t cheat. That would earn you a spanking, too.” She smiled that fake smile again as she said, “Of course, I’m sure you wouldn’t cheat.” He nodded nervously. “Okay,” she said, turning away to pretend to look at some spaghetti. “Fire when ready.” Doug glanced nervously down the aisle both ways. Not seeing anyone, he tried to relax and empty his bladder. He felt a trickle come out, and then more, so he said, “Okay.” She said, “Okay, keep going. Ten seconds should be enough.” Doug grimaced. He felt his urine rush out now. He really had needed to go. That was unfortunate. He looked down and watched in horror as his crotch darkened quickly, and then he shuddered as he felt hot pee flowing down his legs, soaking his jeans. The insides of his pants legs turned dark blue, and he felt his socks get warm and wet before he saw his tennis shoes flood and then overflow. It would be unmistakable to anyone who saw him what had just happened. By the time he figured ten seconds was up, he was standing in soaking wet jeans, in a small puddle on the floor. In a weak voice, he said, “I’m done, um, Mommy.” (Maybe she wouldn’t make fun of him if he buttered her up.) He just wanted to go home and change his pants. They were already turning cold and uncomfortable. But when Mrs. Warren turned and saw Doug in wet pants, her expression changed to one of anger, something he’d not seen since that first morning last week. He watched her with growing apprehension as she opened her large purse and pulled out what he recognized as one of his diapers. How did she know to bring one, he thought idly. And what was it for? “Here,” she snapped. “You’ll need this.” She put the diaper in one of his hands and grabbed the other. She yanked on his arm, dragging him with her in the direction of the registers. He tried to follow, uncertain of what was happening, but acutely aware now of his wet, heavy pants. They were already starting to cool and feel uncomfortable. He hoped they were headed outside to the car, but his hopes sank as she led him up to the nearest register. Doug withered with embarrassment as moms and children turned and one by one saw him, wearing wet pants and holding a large diaper. “Could you tell me where the little boys’ room is?” Mrs. Warren inquired of the young lady at the register. She looked a little younger than he, and had surprisingly large breasts. Doug couldn’t help staring at her blond hair and beautiful face. Mrs. Warren was not similarly mesmerized: “I’ve got one who needs his pants changed.” The checkout girl’s eyes widened, and she nodded slowly. “Yes, he sure does. He seems a little big to be having accidents.” Mrs. Warren snorted with derision. “Well, he’s apparently not as big as he seems, is he?” The girl took a moment to study Doug’s stained jeans. “No, I guess not. Well, that’s what the diaper’s for, right? Too bad for him he wasn’t in one earlier,” she giggled, seeing Mrs. Warren’s obvious anger at Doug. Noting the determination on her face as well, she added, “I bet he’ll wear one from now on. But anyway, the restrooms are in the back corner of the store. You can change him there.” Doug could have died. He felt his face burn with embarrassment. Could this day get any worse? “Thank you,” he heard Mrs. Warren say. “And I’m afraid this little boy also left a puddle in Aisle #3. If you give me a minute to get him dressed a little more appropriately, I can have him back out to clean it up.” The girl nodded, staring hard at Doug’s pants, clearly trying not to laugh. “That’s fine, but you probably need to see the manager first. She likes to know about things like this, and she can get him a mop or something. Oh, by the way, if you need more diapers for him, we ARE having a sale on Attends down in Aisle 7.” “Thanks, but we’re very well stocked already. Trust me, we have to be. Now, where is your manager?” The girl pointed at the other front corner of the store, so Mrs. Warren led Doug across the entire front of the store. They passed dozens of people in line to check out, and most of them turned and saw him. Doug started to feel lightheaded. This was horrible. The manager was on the phone in the customer service area, so they had to wait a moment before talking to her. Mrs. Warren still had an iron grip on Doug’s wrist, and Doug instinctively struggled a little to get her to loosen her grip. At this Mrs. Warren wheeled around with fire in her eyes and swatted his bottom. Since it was damp and undiapered, this stung quite a bit, not to mention the added embarrassment it caused him. He was being treated like a two year old, and the worst thing was, with his wet pants and stinging bottom, he felt just like one, too. “Don’t you mess with me, young man,” Mrs. Warren said loudly, so that she caught the attention of anyone in nearby lines who wasn’t already staring. “You’ve already done enough.” “Evidently so,” said the manager, a stout stern-looking woman who had finished her phone conversation and was now studying Doug’s pants with a disapproving gaze. “Looks like you’re a little late with the diaper, young man.” Mrs. Warren turned her attention to her, but kept a firm grip on Doug’s aching wrist. “Yes, ma’am. I was going to ask you if I could use your restroom to change his pants anyway. Afterward, I was hoping that he could clean up the little puddle he left in Aisle #3.” “Of course,” the manager said. “I’ll leave a bucket and mop in the back hallway for when he’s a little more properly attired,” she said, smiling at the diaper in Doug’s hand. She pointed them to the rear of the store, and Doug was now dragged at what felt like breakneck speed back past all the registers with lines of people whispering, down a side aisle, and to the back corner of the store. They turned in a short hallway and found a door marked “Restroom: Men/Women.” Mrs. Warren tried the door, but it was locked. She knocked, and a female voice inside said, “Just a second!” So they waited. Doug nervously held his diaper and tried to ignore the now stone-cold wetness of his pants and the pain in his wrist. Mrs. Warren was silent, staring away from him. Doug wanted to know what would happen in that little room, but he didn’t dare bother her. He assumed they would change his diaper and then come out and clean up the mess. He wasn’t looking forward to it. He spent his time telling himself how dumb he’d been, how he’d never sneak out or not wear his diaper again. Finally, the door opened and a woman came out. She caught sight of Doug with wet pants and a diaper in his hand, and gasped. “I’m so sorry,” she said. “I didn’t realize I was taking so long.” Mrs. Warren spoke up right away. “Ma’am, don’t blame yourself. This happened out there in the store because someone wasn’t wearing his diaper like a good boy. I just need the bathroom so I can remedy the situation.” Doug was finally so embarrassed that he totally tuned out what was happening. He pretended he was somewhere else, and ignored this humiliating experience. “Oh,” said the woman, with a knowing look at Mrs.Warren. “Do you think he’s learned his lesson yet?” “I don’t know,” Mrs. Warren replied, “but I’ll make sure, just as soon as I can get his pants down in there and turn him over my knee.” The woman nodded sympathetically. “Well, good luck. Don’t go easy on that wet bottom, or he’ll never learn.” “Don’t worry,” Mrs. Warren assured her. “He won’t forget this.” The woman left, and Mrs. Warren pulled a distracted Doug into the small bathroom. She whipped him around and closed and locked the door, then let go of him. While Doug rubbed his wrist, Mrs. Warren sat down on the closed toilet seat. Doug stood quietly and watched as Mrs. Warren pulled out of her large black purse what looked like a changing pad. He had to admit to himself that this woman was always prepared. She must have known that she’d catch him, and had come with everything she’d need to put a diaper on him, he thought. And if he was going to have to lay down on this bathroom’s floor to be changed, he was actually pleased at the prospect of using a changing pad. But she didn’t spread it out on the floor. He grew sort of confused as he watched her smooth it out on her lap. He’d never heard of being changed on someone’s lap, but it was a small bathroom, and he was new to this. When the pad seemed well-smoothed out, Mrs. Warren addressed him sharply. “Alright, little boy. Get those pants down around your ankles.” Doug said, “Yes, Mommy,” trying to stay on her good side. She didn’t seem to be getting any less angry, which worried him a bit. He obeyed quickly, telling himself this was obviously a necessary step before he could be diapered. “Come face me,” she said shortly. He shuffled over to her. How was this going to work? “Hand me the diaper now, Doug.” So he held it out to her with his left hand. She’ll clearly need that, he thought. “The other hand,” she said, annoyed. That’s odd, he thought, as he obediently switched the diaper to his right hand and held it out to her. Why should that make a difference? He found out very quickly. Mrs. Warren reached out with her left hand and took the diaper from his right, as she simultaneously reached across her body with her other hand to grasp his outstretched wrist. In a smooth, strong, and practiced motion, she yanked on his right arm, turning him, throwing him off balance, and directing his fall across her lap perfectly. In the space of two seconds Doug was surprised to find himself suddenly staring at the bathroom floor. He saw Mrs. Warren set the diaper aside, and it dawned on him that she had something else entirely on her mind. It became clearer why she wanted the changing pad on her lap… But this shouldn’t be happening, he thought. They’d had a deal. “Hey!” he yelled in frustration. “That’s not fair! I took the bet!” “And you lost, little boy. So you get a spanking. Don’t you remember your rules? By taking the bet you simply prevented this from happening out there in the aisle where you wet your pants. Would you rather we do this out in the store where everyone can see what a bad baby boy you’ve been?” Pause. SMACK! Oops. He’d thought it was a rhetorical question. “No.” SMACK! “No, what?” “No, Mommy. I’m sorry.” “That’s better. Now let’s have a little discussion about your behavior today. Why don’t you start by explaining to me what you’ve done wrong since the last time I saw you.” He hated her. She was going to draw this out and make it even more humiliating than it already was. But he wasn’t really in a position to argue. So he told the floor in front of him. “I, um, took off my diaper, Mommy.” “Yes, and what else?” “I, well, I went out without telling you.” “That’s right. And does that make you a good little boy or a bad little boy?” “Bad.” SMACK! “I’m a bad little boy, Mommy.” “That’s true. And what do little boys like you need when they’re bad?” “They need a spanking, Mommy.” “So what do you need right now, Doug?” “I need a spanking, Mommy.” He was embarrassed and angry. Never in his wildest dreams did he ever think he’d hear himself say something like that. “That’s also true. And how many spankings do you think you need?” Doug’s blood ran cold. What!? She ought to be kidding, but so far, Mrs. Warren hadn’t kidded around very much. “I think I’d like one spanking, Mommy,” Doug said hopefully. SMACK! SMACK! Guess not, he thought. Damn. “I need two spankings, Mommy,” he said, aware that he’d begun to whimper a little. This was worse than he could have imagined. If that spanking last week was “one,” what must “two” be like? “That’s right, Doug. You need two spankings because you broke two different rules today. For my convenience, I’m just going to combine them into one long spanking, though. Now, just as a reminder, after our spanking, do we get to rub our bottom with our hands?” “No, Mommy.” Shit. He’d forgotten about that. “Why not?” Mrs. Warren asked with a little sadistic glee. “So it will hurt more,” Doug answered obediently. This was so horrible. And worse, his appreciation grew for the fact that he could never, ever tell anyone what he’d been through. It was too embarrassing almost to think about. No one would believe him. How would he get his real life back? “That’s a good boy. I know you can’t hold on to chair legs here, so just keep your hands down and out of the way. Any questions?” Yeah, he thought. What did I ever do to deserve this? To her, he managed a weak, “No, Mommy.” And his bottom tingled with expectation as he remembered vividly the pain from last week. He cursed himself again for having tried such an unnecessary prank. Never again, he promised himself as the spanking began. SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! The pain was unbearable right from the beginning, and the knowledge that it would not soon stop and the humiliation and stress he’d already endured caused Doug to start crying almost immediately. Unfortunately, Mrs. Warren actually seemed annoyed by this, and she redoubled her efforts to paddle his bottom. He sobbed, and she spanked mercilessly, until they were both out of breath. Doug was grateful when she stopped, though it turned out it was only to remove a small, flat, hairbrush from her purse. This, he realized, would be the second spanking. His bottom was sort of numb from the first one, but he was startled to realize how much more painful it was than her bare hands. He cried all the way through. When it had lasted longer than Doug thought possible, Mrs. Warren stopped and stood him up. Tears streaming down his face, Doug’s hands immediately and instinctively made their way to his red, hot bottom. He rubbed it as he cried, trying to overwhelm the searing pain that still raged through his rear end. Mrs. Warren reached over, grabbed one of his arms, now limp as spaghetti from his ordeal, swung him around and swatted him several times again. “No touching, little boy,” she fumed. “Do it again and we can start over from the beginning.” Doug fought through his tears to find the energy to say “Yes, Mommy,” and to obey. He managed to hold his arms stiffly down at his sides. All he could think about was how much his bottom hurt, how miserable he was, and how much he hated Mrs. Warren. He was oblivious to Mrs. Warren as she now spread out the changing pad on the floor and laid his diaper out on top of it. She gently guided him down to it, positioned his abused bottom over the back of the diaper and had him lie down. He allowed her to lift his legs, rub some lotion on his hot skin, and sprinkle him with a generous amount of powder before lowering his legs, pulling the diaper through, and taping him up tightly. He was beginning to stop crying as she stood him up. He had no energy to resist her as she did something intended to embarrass him even further once they left this room: she tucked his shirt deep inside his diaper, and pulled the diaper’s waist up as high as it would go. When she pulled his still-wet pants back up and buckled them, about two inches of diaper were clearly visible above his jeans. Doug didn’t even notice. Mrs. Warren folded up her changing pad and put it away, stowed the hairbrush, then brushed off her strong hands. That had been exhilarating and, as always, excellent exercise. But she wasn’t done with Doug today. Doug was close to getting his sniffles under control as Mrs. Warren unlocked and opened the door. Several employees who had apparently been hovering just outside, entertained by the sound of Doug’s spanking, dispersed rapidly. Doug stepped out into the service hallway and was acutely aware of how his diaper insulated his still-hot bottom, so that the heat amplified the continued pain he felt. His legs, on the other hand, were ice-cold and wet from his soaked jeans. He felt completely miserable. But he had another embarrassing ordeal to withstand, if he didn’t want another spanking, so Doug dutifully took the mop and bucket he saw waiting in the hall, and slowly wheeled them toward Aisle #3, where a small “SLIPPERY WHEN WET” sign had been placed near the puddle he’d made not half an hour ago. People he passed whispered and stared, but Doug almost didn’t care now. He tried to shut out the outside world, though his inside world wasn’t any more comforting. Mrs. Warren followed at a short distance, keeping a watchful eye on her charge, but he was behaving well. It was then that she knew that while he obviously had an enjoyable little rebellious streak in him, he also would probably end up being one of her best clients. He had a little fight in him, to make it fun, but he also had some common sense, too, and knew when to quit. Doug mopped quietly. The first time he looked down, he caught sight of the diaper protruding so blatantly from his pants, and it didn’t take much to realize that it had been done on purpose. He glanced at Mrs. Warren, who had observed his discovery, and she smiled at him slightly. He took a deep breath and kept mopping. There was simply nothing he could do about it. His bottom hurt more than enough already. When he’d finished and returned the mop and bucket to the back hallway, Mrs. Warren guided him back to the manager’s office. On the way she told him what she wanted him to say. “Ma’am,” Doug started politely, when the manager came over with an amused smile on her face, “I just wanted to apologize for wetting myself here in your store, and for making that puddle over there. I, um, cleaned it all up. I, um, just wanted to say I’m sorry.” “That’s good,” the manager observed. “I heard quite a racket back there in that bathroom where you two were. Do you think you learned a lesson?” Doug coughed with embarrassment, and looked toward Mrs.Warren, who returned his glance with a questioning look. “Uh, yes, ma’am,” he said, finding it hard to meet her eyes. “I, um, promise it will never happen again.” He was sure of this. “And how can I be sure of that?” the manager inquired. “Well,” said Doug, “I’m wearing a, um, well, a…diaper now.” “Oh, yes, I see,” she replied, pretending to notice for the first time. “Not quite ready for big boy pants, are we?” she said, as if to a three-year-old. This was so degrading, being treated like this. But he had no choice but to humor these women. But he still couldn’t look her in the eye, mumbling, “Uh, no, ma’am, I guess not.” He noticed Mrs. Warren giving him a meaningful glance. “Oh, and I wanted to ask you if I might be allowed to finish grocery shopping now,” he remembered to ask. “I guess that would be alright,” the manager said, looking to Mrs. Warren, who was nodding at her, for her answer, the way strangers will often do with a child and his parent. “As long as your Mommy thinks you’ve learned a lesson, and are wearing a diaper like a good little boy.” “Yes, ma’am,” Doug murmured, his bottom and face burning from the spanking and the embarrassment. “And may I please have permission to shop here in the future?” “Hmmm,” the manager said thoughtfully. “Yes, you may, if you come wearing a diaper which is at all times visible, such as you’re wearing now, so that my employees and I can tell the big boys from the little ones like you.” She seemed to decide something. “Also, I’d like for you to check in here when you first get here so that I can tell an employee to keep an eye on you. Any puddles, misbehavior, or even so much as a wet spot on your jeans will be dealt with very harshly, young man. My children will tell you that I can warm a fanny with the best of them.” She smiled warmly at Mrs. Warren, who smiled back appreciatively. “And one more thing. I want you to bring a spare diaper with you, in case there is a leakage problem. I can find one of my staff to change you, or I can certainly do it myself. Okay?” Doug nodded. “Yes, ma’am. Thank you.” “That’s a good boy,” the manager said, and winked at Mrs. Warren, who was deeply impressed. She’d actually never been to this store or met this woman before, but this stranger seemed to have a natural understanding for what was going on. Mrs. Warren began to think more of her boys would shop here in the future. What a pleasant surprise. Doug resumed shopping grimly. The rest of the trip was excruciating, and dreadfully slow, so he had time to consider what had just happened. He’d just set himself up for weekly humiliation and public embarrassment, and had thanked the lady for it. The manager’s attitude had shocked and disappointed Doug as much as it had pleased and surprised Mrs. Warren, and he was now questioning whether everyone would approve of how he was being treated if they knew about his situation. It was weird that one of these people didn’t object to his being spanked and diapered. (Doug had no way of knowing that he’d simply had the misfortune of encountering another relatively unusual woman; his ignorance made him begin to wonder whether there was more of this kind of thing going on than he had previously been aware of. Any uncertainty about this on Doug’s part simply made Mrs. Warren’s job easier, so she would have been pleased.) Well, he thought, thank goodness for the fact that this store is out of the way. He’d never seen any of his friends shopping here, and that was the only aspect of today’s experience he was happy about. One thing was for sure, he knew. He wasn’t soon going to try to disobey Mrs. Warren again. His bottom throbbed with the heat and pain from his spanking, and the various glances of curiosity and disgust from the other shoppers continued to drive home how misguided this attempt at rebellion had been. Well, he was reformed now, out of necessity more than desire, and he was going to be a good little boy for as long as he could help it, no matter how embarrassing it would be. Embarrassment was better than embarrassment and pain. He would do anything to avoid living through another day like today. Which was exactly what Mrs. Warren wanted, of course. And she had been doing this long enough to recognize the determined look that now shone in Doug’s eye. She smiled. This had been a successful outing today, and one that would probably carry her new client through several good weeks of what she considered diaper-training for the future. The next thing she’d probably have to deal with from Doug were his hormones. She smiled. Mrs. Warren could handle that, too. She loved her job. Chapter 8 Doug packed his diaper bag Sunday night for his return to work without objection. His bottom and ego still hurt from the day’s events, and he was in no mood to put up a fuss. Still, he was more than a little uneasy about the following day, when he would head to work while wearing his diaper and carrying his pink diaper bag. He was worried about people at the lab finding out, since the job and the graduate program to which he expected it to lead seemed to be all he was living for now that the rest of his normal life had been taken away. So while he obediently placed three fresh diapers, powder, baby wipes, and lotion into his bag, his mind was racing for ways to make himself less conspicuous. Some ideas were obvious. He’d decided that, starting tomorrow, he’d go in earlier and leave later. That way he could get to and from his lab unseen and wouldn’t have to answer questions about his bulging, waddling, rustling, or his babyish bag. Appearing to work harder wouldn’t hurt his admission prospects, either. In some ways he was very lucky to have the job he had: working alone, being able to wear what he wanted and essentially to decide what hours he’d work. He had some lab meetings to attend each week, but not many. These features were excellent, since he now wanted to avoid other people as much as possible and needed to wear something practical. He had bulky pants and a long sweatshirt that might work. Good thing winter’s coming, he thought. It would be way harder to wear the kind of bulky clothing that was necessary if it were hot. It was the prospect of diaper changes that really made him anxious. His floor in the lab building had one unisex bathroom in one of the more public areas. It wasn’t uncommon to see lots of people on his way there or back, or for there to be a line. He couldn’t carry the diaper bag, or, even worse, a diaper and some wipes, into the bathroom! It hadn’t been until after Mrs. Warren left Sunday night that Doug struck on the idea of plastic grocery bags in which to carry clean diaper down and dirty diapers back. If it was around lunchtime when he went, he could even say he was just stopping off on the way to lunch. He felt much better after he pre-bagged his diaper changes for tomorrow. With any luck, he might be able to get away with this without anyone finding out. Monday morning Doug woke up, dry as usual, and tried to get ready as normally would any other morning, except that this morning he had to wet himself intentionally before his shower, and rediaper himself afterward. He left his apartment early, and indeed got to his lab early as well, before anyone else had arrived. Relieved, he tucked his telltale bag safely into an unused lab cupboard and got to work. He was very conscious of how often he wet himself, as leaks might be horribly embarrassing, and so he checked his diaper several times before deciding at 10:30am that he’d better try to change himself. So he put his clandestine operation into action and was thrilled when it seemed to go off without a hitch. No one really seemed to notice. From there the rest of the day was easier. He had to change himself once more, in mid-afternoon, and he waited until the halls were relatively deserted before waddling home. All in all, the day had been much simpler than he could have hoped for. And the next several days went well also, in that he seemed to manage to keep his forced infantilization a secret from his coworkers. Mrs. Warren dropped by every day or so “to say hi.” Wednesday night she commented that she’d been told that Doug was being a good boy at work, and that she was glad to hear it. Doug’s heart stopped. Mrs. Warren had an informant at work! Someone in his last bastion of normality knew about him. He didn’t say anything to Mrs. Warren (sitting down was only now becoming painless), but his mind once again raced, as he tried to pinpoint who his informant could possibly be. He should have known he’d be spied upon. But now he worried that the informance might tell others. Everyone might already know by now! But he couldn’t ask, because that would give it away. He was forced to watch everyone on Thursday, looking for clues that they might be on to him. But if anyone knew, they were quiet about it. No one appeared to watch him or react any differently than in the past. Thursday night, as he was sneaking home after he’d thought everyone had left, he turned a corner and ran right into his lab director, Dr. Stillman, a tall, strikingly beautiful woman in her late thirties, with long brown hair and deep brown eyes. She was also, not coincidentally, the admissions director for the doctoral program Doug hoped to enter next fall. “Ah…Doug, isn’t it?” she asked crisply as she sized him up in front of her. Doug tried to hide his bag behind his legs. “Keeping late hours, are we? Well, that can’t hurt. It’s nice to see someone working so hard for a change.” At this, she sort of chuckled to herself, and kept walking. Doug stood in the hall after she’d left and tried to figure out what she’d meant by that. It had seemed like a compliment, and yet she’d laughed. She always intimidated Doug, to some degree because he found her extremely attractive. Now, though, in his paranoid mood, he found himself wondering if his boss might actually be the informant: “working hard for a change,” she’d said. Maybe this had meant something else from what he’d thought. (This would worry Doug for a long time, and perhaps never be satisfactorily settled for him, since she never made any other similar comments and he knew he couldn’t exactly ask her directly.) Other than this incident, the rest of the week was uneventful, and Doug finished his second week of diaperhood smoothly. He was as obedient as he could be, and tried to wet and soil his diaper conscientiously. He settled into a predictable pattern of changing himself in the late morning and midafternoon, and he found that as long as he remembered to do that, he didn’t need to think about when exactly he wet himself. That seemed convenient to Doug, though he would discover later that it was yet another piece in the puzzle of his undoing. On Sunday Doug reluctantly and self-consciously waddled into the grocery story, scene of last week’s humiliation, spare diaper in hand. The diaper he wore was necessarily pulled up outside his shirt for the world to see. He wished desperately that he didn’t have to do this, but he knew he did. He tried to stare straight ahead and to ignore the stares of shoppers, and fervently hoped that no one he knew saw him like this. He walked over to the manager’s office and knocked on the door. “Well, look who’s back,” the manager observed when she saw Doug. “And you remembered how I want you to dress as well; that’s a good start. What’s your name, young man?” “Doug,” he replied, not wanting to get any more detailed than that. Luckily, it seemed as though that’s all she wanted. “Well, I’m Mrs. Johnson, Doug,” she said. “As you recall, I told you I’d have one of my employees look after you while you’re here. Let’s see who’s available.” She yelled over to the pretty young cashier who had laughed at Doug the previous week. “Emily, have you had your break?” The young girl nodded. “Just came off it. Sandy has my register.” Emily walked over, obviously staring at Doug’s visible diaper as she approached. “Good,” Mrs. Johnson said. “This is Doug. Perhaps you remember him from last Sunday: he wet his pants in Aisle 3.” “Of course I remember,” she said, giggling. Doug blushed. It had to be this girl. “Well, this week he’s more suitably dressed, as you can see. But I’d still like for you to babysit him while he shops. Follow him and supervise his behavior. If there is any misbehavior at all, you are to tell me immediately, and you or I will take care of it.” “What do you mean?” Emily asked Mrs. Johnson, looking at Doug with amusement. “I mean that if he needs it, one of us will give him a spanking back in the stockroom. He got one last week, and it seemed to work well.” Doug’s head pounded with embarrassment. Doug saw that Emily was having trouble controlling her laughter. Mrs. Johnson, however, ignored her. “Now, Doug, can you tell when you’ve wet or messed in your diaper?” she asked. Doug frowned. Of course he could, but why did she have to bring that up now, other than to embarrass him? But he had to answer. “Uh, yes, ma’am,” he answered with a very shy glance toward Emily. “Good. I expect you to tell Emily if it happens so she can change you. Emily, you can use the stockroom for that as well; just ask me for the key. And check his diaper several times each visit while he shops, just to make sure: we don’t want a scene like last week because of overflow. If he’s wet or dirty and didn’t tell you first, bring him back here. He’ll need a spanking for that, too, if we think it was intentional.” She turned away from them. “That’s all. You two come back here when you’re done shopping. Be good,” she added, presumably for Doug’s benefit. They turned away and headed toward the rows of empty carts. “Did you really get a spanking last week?” Emily asked him immediately. Doug hung his head. “Yes,” he said quietly, hoping she would drop the subject. He picked a cart and they headed for the produce section. “How come?” Doug stopped and looked at her. She was half smiling, obviously amused at the idea of his being spanked like a bad little boy. Her blue eyes sparkled, and Doug found himself staring into them for a moment, briefly bewitched by her young beauty. Then he shook himself. She was probably eighteen or nineteen at the most, several years younger than he. He thought that was not appropriate. And besides that, she knew he was wearing a diaper. Even if she were of a proper age for him, he wouldn’t have stood a chance with that humiliation. “I’d rather not talk about it,” he said, finally, and turned to look through a bin of apples. But she was insistent. “No, really. Why?” When Doug didn’t speak, she said, “You wouldn’t want me to give my manager a bad report, would you?” Doug turned back to her, fear suddenly in his eyes. “You wouldn’t do that, would you?” “Maybe, maybe not,” she said coyly, her eyes twinkling. “I’m the babysitter. You’d better behave.” Just what he needed, Doug thought. A teenager on a power trip. “Look,” he said. “It’s really embarrassing.” Perhaps he could play on her sympathy… And there was silence for a moment. So she does have a heart, Doug thought. Thank goodness. But then, “Was it because you wet your pants?” She asked it simply, apparently not to tease him, and without malice. She just didn’t seem to recognize his discomfort. She only seemed very curious and slightly amused. The question was, why was she so curious? She ought to be grossed out. Could she actually be turned on by this? He’d always dreamed of meeting a female who could share and participate in his diaper-wearing. “`Cause my little brother, Joey, got spanked every time he wet his pants,” she went on. “Oh, really?” Doug replied with disappointment, now irritated that he should be thought of in the same vein as her stupid little pants-wetting brother. Well, now he knew how she thought of him. He should have known; that would teach him to get his hopes up. He moved on, collecting his groceries. “Yeah, he’s twelve now, and it doesn’t happen anymore,” Emily told im. “But he used to do it a lot, and Mom would spank him for it. Probably couldn’t help it, I guess.” She followed him in silence for a couple of steps. “So do you still wet your pants a lot?” she asked. “No,” Doug answered with more annoyance. As pretty as she was, she was turning out to be a pest. If she wasn’t interested in him, then she was just being cruel, he decided. “But you did last week, and that’s why your mom spanked you, right?” Once more Doug stopped to glare at her. “Look, she’s not my mom, okay? Please just drop it.” “She’s not?” Emily asked, wrinkling her brow. “Who is she then?” Oh, crap, he thought. I can’t go there. We can’t get into this. He shook his head. “It’s really complicated.” They were now passing the back corner of the store and the hallway with the bathroom where Doug had been soundly spanked the week before. This distracted Emily from her interrogation, and she remembered one of her duties. “We should check your diaper!” she chirped happily, tugging at Doug’s sleeve. Reluctantly he left his half-full cart and followed her into the hallway, where they couldn’t be seen by other shoppers. “Okay, pull down your pants,” Emily said, obviously trying to sound mature. However, her enthusiasm and amusement shone through her facade of professionalism. “Look, you really don’t need to do this. I know for a fact that it’s dry,” Doug offered hopefully. She put her hands on her hips indignantly. “I’m the babysitter, not you. You’re just the baby. And I want you to pull down your pants so I can see your diaper.” Doug still hesitated. She was so young to be ordering him around. “Do it now,” she said sharply. Doug knew that in this situation, as in many others, he didn’t have much choice. He didn’t know whether or not she’d really make good on the threat to spank him, but he didn’t want to find out. So he unbuckled and unzipped his jeans and self-consciously lowered them to the floor. “Awwwww…that’s a good boy,” Emily said, in a babyish tone. She laughed at her own efforts at humor. Doug blushed again, not finding it quite as funny as she apparently did. Emily leaned over and inspected the little indicator stripe, which indeed verified Doug’s assertion of dryness. Despite his embarrassment, Doug felt an erection start to build inside his diaper. It had been a difficult 2 weeks since he had come, and it didn’t take much to get him hard. For the first time Doug was thankful for the extreme thickness of his diaper, which probably prevented her from noticing. Suddenly she surprised him by reaching out and grabbing the rear of his diaper, squeezing and massaging it gently. She then did the same to the front. Doug was so shocked he didn’t know what to do. What if she felt his erection? “Just making sure,” she explained to him as she straightened up again. But she said it with a smile that told Doug for the first time that maybe she was actually interested as much in what was inside his diaper as in its state of wetness. So what was she “making sure” of? Whether he was wet, or whether he was hard? he wondered. Or had he just imagined that little supposed flirtation? To Doug’s frustration, since he wanted some clarity, Emily didn’t let on one way or another. “Okay, that’s good. You can pull 'em up. We’ll check again later.” She’s apparently a very professional tease, he thought, reassessing his baby-sitter. If she really liked him and had just made a little move on him, she wasn’t letting on to it now. But why would she tease him? he argued to himself as they returned to shopping. Could she possibly know about his ICP’s prohibition of sex, and was she therefore being purposefully cruel? No, he thought, that’s impossible. His heart quickened. I think she really likes me, he thought excitedly. And she’s actually turned on by my diapers! Oh my God, he thought, unable to comprehend the ramifications of actually having found someone who was turned on by infantilism in general, and his infantilism in specific. He’d dreamed his whole life… His musing was cut short as Emily was back on the attack. “So if you don’t wet a lot, then why do you have to wear diapers?” Doug didn’t answer. He couldn’t think of anything other than the truth that would be believable. Emily didn’t seem to mind his silence. She kept on jabbering. “My brother never had to wear diapers for wetting his pants. Well, I mean, after he was about four. He kept right on wetting his pants and his bed, and Mom started spanking him for it. She said he was old enough to know better. And Joey would cry, but then he’d keep on wetting. Maybe he should have been put back in diapers, like you…” She trailed off, apparently lost in thought. And then: “Did it hurt?” Doug was lost. He had been picking out some laundry detergent. “Did what hurt?” “Your spanking. Did it hurt?” “Yes,” Doug admitted quietly. His inhibitions had dropped slightly since he’d determined that she really did like him. In a relationship as potentially important as this one might be, he could maybe afford to open up a little. “I bet it did,” Emily said enthusiastically. “Did you cry?” Whoops. Too far, a little voice in Doug’s head told him. He thought he could possibly talk about some of this, was dying to get some of it off his chest, and was thrilled someone like Emily existed. But he was deeply embarrassed about some aspects of it, and this was one of them. “Emily, I’m kind of upset about the whole thing, okay? Can we please not talk about this stuff anymore?” Emily nodded, and was silent as they made their way toward the dairy products. Then she couldn’t resist asking just one more question. “Do you have a girlfriend?” Doug stopped and stared at her. So much for subtlety, maturity, and professionalism. “No,” he said simply. “Oh,” she replied. “I’m in college. Are you in college?” “Not any more,” he told her. Whew, he thought. At least she isn’t a minor. He finished shopping. When Doug was just about ready to check out, Emily said, “Time for another check.” He immediately tensed up. Here we go again, he thought. I was so close to getting out of here. They walked back to the rear hallway, Doug’s anxiety and erection simultaneously rising. What would happen this time? Would it…COULD it…lead to anything? He found himself both hoping that something sexual would happen and scared that it might. He’d always dreamed of involving his diapers in a sexual relationship, and this girl was so beautiful! It was better than he could have hoped for! But then there was the omniscient, omnipotent Mrs. Warren, who had expressly prohibited any sexual activity. Emily, however, was the boss here! If anything happened, it wasn’t his fault, right? He was torn and confused as she again asked him to pull down his pants. Now he was also scared of being discovered: his erection felt huge. He wondered if even his thick diaper could insulate it from her touch. Maybe she wouldn’t notice. Doug held his breath tensely as Emily, smiling, reached out and caressed his diaper, first in the back, and then, more extensively, in the front. She got a funny look on her face, as if she was considering something. Doug thought he heard her laugh quietly. He was about to say something, anything, to ease the tension, when she abruptly stopped, stood, and pronounced him dry. Doug let out his breath. Emily had him pull up his pants, and they went back up front, where Doug paid for his groceries. Then they stopped by Mrs. Johnson’s office. “And were you a good boy today, Doug?” she asked him, though she clearly meant the question for Emily. Doug was pointedly ignored, and he felt like he was three years old, which he noted was becoming a common occurrence. Emily nodded. “Yes, ma’am. He did as he was told. I checked him twice, and he was dry and clean both times.” “Good for him. Okay, Doug, we’ll see you back next week. Same deal. Thanks, Emily, you can get back to your register,” she added before turning away. “No problem. No problem at all. G’bye, Doug,” Emily said. She flashed him a meaningful smile. “I’ll see you next week.” At this, she laughed hysterically and walked away. “G’bye, Emily,” Doug said to her back, and sighed as she walked away. She definitely turned him on, even if she was criminally nosy. The boys at her school must drool over her, he thought. He took his groceries to his car, and spent the rest of the day trying to decide how her obvious fondling of him had been meant. Her parting comment, too, was an obvious reference to the activities she seemed to be planning for next week. He was already worried about it, but couldn’t help[ but be excited as well. He had a lot to think about this week. Who knew what his next shopping trip would bring? Chapter 9 Week three brought more of the same to Doug, who had definitely given up trying to fight his “ICP” for the time being. It was annoying as hell to deal with the diapers, but his life hadn’t ended yet, either. No one seemed to know yet, outside of Mrs. Warren, the grocery story women, and the mystery informant at work. His role was pretty easy, actually: just use his diapers mindlessly and change them several times a day. And it wasn’t that inconvenient, except for the messy diapers. Otherwise, it was nice not to have to go all the way to the toilet to relieve himself. Now, if he felt ever the slightest twinge in his bladder, he just relaxed a little, and it went away. He was determined to enjoy the few perks to this setup. He had his BM’s pretty well regulated to the evenings when he was in the privacy of his apartment, and though he hated having to sit in them first, he usually showered immediately after that, so all in all cleanup wasn’t that difficult either. But he disliked the bulk of his diapers, and having to walk funny (though he noticed this less and less). One thing he was definitely more aware of was always having to think about his diapers in public. Were they visible? Could people tell? When other people were around he always had to think about whether he could move safely without being heard. He learned to carry his keys around and jingle them loudly if it was quiet enough that someone might hear his plastic crinkling. He was paranoid, but so far he still didn’t have any evidence that people suspected. The shaving was becoming old hat as well. At first it had been very itchy; now it was better. He shaved his groin daily and his bottom every other day, since it was more difficult. While it was humiliating to “have” to do it, he ended up being happy he’d done it every time he had a messy diaper. He did laundry once a week, and only after Mrs. Warren had looked through his clothes and sheets. He received several more huge packages of disposable diapers each week, and slowly worked his way through them, turning in smelly trash bags full of old ones. He had started paying for his diapers after the first week, which sort of made him mad. Sure, it was a reasonable price for what he got, but he didn’t want what he got. Still, everything that third week went smoothly, and everything seemed to be getting easier and slightly more tolerable. Except. Except it had now been three weeks since he’d had an orgasm. An all-time record since his early teens. As the days had dragged on, he’d thought about it more and more, until by now almost every waking moment (and many of his dreams, too) were spent thinking about sex. In the past, dreams and fantasies had focused on two different themes: “normal” heterosexual intercourse and his secret diaper fantasies, which often involved, ironically, being forced into diapers by an older woman. Now, presumably because of his present situation, these two separate topics seemed hopelessly muddled in his mind. If he had regular sex with a woman, she first had to take his diapers off. He never “fantasized” about being forced into anything anymore, but Mrs. Warren inexplicably showed up in several of his sex dreams. He tried to focus all of this energy productively, which for Doug meant trying to figure out a way to sneak in some masturbation, unknown to Mrs. Warren. He would have thought about actual sex with somebody, but the question was, with whom? He didn’t really like the idea of anonymous sex, and who would want to get into a relationship with somebody still in diapers? Emily inevitably kept creeping into his mind, but he shook the thought away. He didn’t want to think about what kind of punishment that might lead to. Masturbation was simply much safer and easier logistically. Even so, he was extremely paranoid that Mrs. Warren would find out somehow (and with good reason!), so his scheme had to be brilliant. He knew she had an informant at work, so he couldn’t just do it in the bathroom there, where he’d either have to flush the evidence (suspicious to an informed observer, because why would a diapered boy need to flush?) or throw it away somewhere, and Doug felt sure that Mrs. Warren would find any evidence he left. Doug’s first instinct, of course, was to whack off into his diaper, since he always found that most satisfying. But since his diapers were inspected specifically for this, Doug had to force himself to forego this pleasure. There was that chemical thing in the drains, and laundry was, of course, checked beforehand, which ruled out a lot of options at home. He decided he had to think of some way to smuggle home some paper products, hide them, use them, and then think of a foolproof disposal method. It was during this third week that he finally figured it out. He thought it through, over and over, and carefully considered every angle, but couldn’t find a flaw. On Friday, then, after his afternoon change at work, Doug wadded up two small balls of toilet paper and stuffed them in the toes of his shoes, which made them uncomfortable, but not too bad. At least they still fit. It was perfect! No one, not even Mrs. Warren, would think of looking there, and if she did, he could simply say that the paper was there for comfort purposes, because his shoes were too big. It was nearly plausible as an emergency plan, but he was sure he would not need to use it. After he wore home the toilet paper, he found the other tools necessary for his plan: a half-full cereal box, and an empty Coke can. He would store the toilet paper in the bottom of the cereal box until he needed it, then stuff it inside the empty Coke can for disposal. It was brilliant. Now he was finally ready. And it was wonderful. It (not surprisingly) didn’t take long, and he had a lot of difficulty keeping himself quiet (just in case). Three weeks of near-constant excitement were released in a cataclysmic but all-too-brief orgasm, the evidence of which he was careful to contain entirely within the toilet paper and cram into the soda can. He peered inside and was thrilled when he couldn’t see the contents of the can at all. It couldn’t have been more perfect. He put the can in the trash amid leftover spaghetti with sauce, just to make examination of the can that much less convenient. And that night he slept very well indeed. The weekend went well, too. Sunday, when he returned with trepidation to the grocery store, he was both relieved and disappointed to learn that Emily was home, apparently sick, so she couldn’t babysit him today. Instead, Doug was followed around by a homely, quiet girl who gave him weird looks but didn’t bother him at all. Twice, she’d gone as far as to ask him if he needed to be changed, but when he’d answered no both times, she’d said okay and dropped the subject. The next week came and went without so much as a peep from Mrs. Warren, even after the trash was hauled away. Doug was overjoyed. He’d done it! He’d outsmarted her, and had accomplished this task in the most important of situations. This, of course, meant that he could do it again, and again, probably, though he didn’t want to push his luck. Every week or two would have to be enough, though he wanted far more. But the consequences of being found out were too dire. Not only would he get another fearsome spanking, he thought, but he’d lose this, one of maybe two bright spots in his current life. He desperately needed this system for his release, so he had to be very careful. And with any luck, it was now finally conceivable to him that he could actually complete this hellish six months of babyhood. It was now Friday of the fourth week, and Doug had thus completed a month of his ICP. Not much was happening around the lab, so Doug took the opportunity to walk home for a leisurely lunch in the privacy of his apartment, where a diaper change was less of a hassle. A month! he thought as he walked home. It seemed impossible that he’d spent a whole month as a baby, but it was true. He hadn’t been out of a diaper for more than fifteen minutes at all, and hadn’t used a toilet the whole time. He wasn’t enjoying it, certainly, but he was getting used to it a little. He was definitely still enjoying the convenience diapers offered. He hardly thought about when he peed these days: as much trouble as cleanup was, he loved not worrying about holding it in until he got to a bathroom. He didn’t think that carefully about it, because it didn’t seem important to him, but if he had, he would have noticed that he still had to consciously relax his bladder and bowels to empty them. But he was doing it far more often and instinctively. There were lots of things he still didn’t like, however. He hated limiting himself to one orgasm a week, but he wanted to be very conservative about that, especially at first. He had a good system, but he knew that Mrs. Warren was smart, and if he blew it he might never figure out another feasible system. It was too precious. Most of all, however, he hated subjugating himself to Mrs. Warren, acting like a two-year-old around her. He was still very self-conscious about having to call her “Mommy,” and it galled him to have to walk on eggshells around to show her how obedient he was. The only thing that kept him doing it was the knowledge that if he didn’t, he’d get something which pleased him even less: a spanking. And so, even though he was constantly humiliated by the fact that he really was literally trying to be a good little boy to avoid a spanking from his Mommy, it was worth it to him to do so. Doug continued to be frustrated by not figuring a way out of this mess. It was beginning to look more and more like he’d have to ride the thing out for the full duration of the six months. This failure was in itself embarrassing , but he was beginning to see the wisdom in not fighting Mrs. Warren. These last few weeks had been degrading, of course, but nothing like his experience with the wet bet that day. And without a spanking since then, the time had passed more quickly, too. If he could just ride this out for another five months and stay on Mrs. Warren’s good side, which meant being a good boy, he could count on resuming his normal life in April without so much as a single spanking before that. This plan, because of its relative ease and safety, was becoming more and more attractive to him. With his secret masturbation scheme in place, he could almost imagine making it that long. His musings ended as he arrived home and started to make his lunch. His diaper was soaked (he’d made it through the morning without a change) but he was hungry, so he put off changing himself until after lunch. He had just finished making a sandwich when he was surprised by the sound of a key in the lock of his front door. Mrs. Warren! he thought. Was he in trouble? She didn’t ordinarily visit him during work days, even when he was home for lunch. “Doug?” he heard her call from the hall. “Yes, Mommy?” he answered, gritting his teeth slightly at the humiliation of having to call her that. “We need to talk,” Mrs. Warren told him as she entered his living room, with him following closely behind. “I called your machine,” Doug said defensively, hoping to head off any problems. “I told you I was coming home for lunch.” “Oh, yes, that was a good boy,” Mrs. Warren said, sitting down and putting her keys in her big black purse, which seemed to be more full than usual. “That’s how I knew to find you here. No, that’s not what this is about.” “Was I bad?” Doug asked worriedly. After he’d just considered how lucky he was for not having been spanked recently, this seemed a big disappointment. Could she know about his secret? But surely she’d appear much angrier if she knew… “Well, no, I don’t think so,” she replied, “unless you purposefully turned in too few messy diapers last week.” “No, I…I…” he stammered. “I didn’t mean to; are you sure?” His mind raced. What was the punishment for that? “Yes, I’m sure,” she said sharply. “And don’t question me again. My inspectors told me about it this morning after analyzing your diapers from last week. You only turned in seven messy diapers when you were supposed to turn in nine.” “Oh,” Doug said. He’d thought he’d done okay last week. The big question was: did he get a spanking for that? “I…don’t know what happened. I’m really sorry,” he started. “Well, I’m sure it wasn’t intentional. Your total number of diapers was fine, so we know you were good about using your diapers. So you don’t need a spanking,” she reassured him. “But I am worried that you seem to be slightly constipated. Do you know why I’d care about that?” “No, Mommy,” Doug said, though he was thinking, because you’re intrusive and perverted. “Well, constipation is actually a cause of a special kind of incontinence called overflow incontinence.' So we always have to make sure our clients stay very regular. That's why we have the messy diaper quota, you know." "Oh," he said to be polite. He wasn't constipated, and he wasn't really interested. Seven dirty diapers was pretty regular, for goodness sake. "And that's why any time you turn in too few messy diapers, as you did, we want to make sure it doesn't become a problem." Whatever, Doug thought. What the hell was the point of this? He wasn't constipated, though he *was* very hungry by now. He needed to move her along so he could eat and get back to lunch. "Okay, well, I'll try to pay more attention this week," he said, hoping that that was what she was looking for. It wasn't. "Not so fast, little guy," Mrs. Warren said, smiling. "You obviously don't remember your rule list. We need to spend the next day or so making sure you aren't at all, shall we say, plugged up.’” Doug didn’t like the sound of that. “I call it Bowel Encouragement. Does that ring any bells?” Doug shook his head, beginning to dread the answer. He hoped it wasn’t diaper juice. “Well, we just help you along a little by putting something in your bottom every so often for a day. It’s guaranteed to work.” Well, out of everything that could be happening, that didn’t sound too bad. Still, he wasn’t sure he could trust Mrs. Warren. “Does it hurt?” “No, not really,” she replied. “Let’s go get you started. Have you had a bowel movement today?” “No, Mommy,” Doug answered. He had himself on a nice regular evening schedule for BMs during the week. Mrs. Warren smiled with anticipation. “That’s fine. Let’s go upstairs and get you changed into a dry diaper. I see that one’s about soaked.” Doug looked down, but saw no signs of leaking through his pants. He was amazed at how Mrs. Warren could tell these things so accurately. I mean, I’m wearing pants, he thought. Is my diaper still that obvious? Can everyone tell? Or is she just that good? Mrs. Warren led him upstairs, aware of the impact her comment would make on Doug’s confidence in public and on his opinion of her. In truth, she simply had seen him arrive home and assumed he’d not yet changed himself. After a whole morning at work, she’d knew he had to be soaking. With considerable embarrassment, Doug lay back on his changing pad and allowed his pants to be pulled down and his diaper changed. Mrs. Warren didn’t do this for him often, and he was still self-conscious enough about it to make the experience painful. Mrs. Warren ran a baby wipe around his diaper area, cleaning his hairless groin carefully. “Very nice job shaving, Doug,” she said. “You’re turning into a very good little baby for Mommy. If we can get this constipation problem cleared up, we might consider taking you off of probation in a month or two.” Probation! He’d forgotten he was on probation. Recently it hadn’t been that bad being on probation, he reflected, as Mrs. Warren placed a clean diaper under his hips and powdered him heavily. But if he could be off of probation, then maybe he wouldn’t be spied on at work, or maybe his garbage wouldn’t be sorted, or his diapers counted. Then he could really get away with stuff! He tried to busy himself thinking how nice that would be while Mrs. Warren finished readying him. His attention was redirected back to Mrs. Warren as she dug into her purse and retrieved a latex glove and a small unlabeled container, from which she removed two cone-shaped pellets. After donning the glove, she had Doug spread and lift his legs, after which she unceremoniously stuck the two pellets up past Doug’s anus, well into his rectum. Doug was caught off-guard by this new experience, and he sucked in his breath sharply, unconsciously also clamping down his sphincter in self-defense. This effort had no effect on Mrs. Warren’s finger, which had accomplished its mission and retreated quickly. Mrs. Warren had his diaper taped up before Doug even knew what was happening. His bottom felt a little funny with those things inside, but it didn’t hurt or anything. Doug was relieved. That was it? She had him stand up as she walked over to his dresser and removed from the top drawer a pair of his white plastic panties. She handed them to Doug and told him to put them on, which he did. Then she went back to her purse and, to Doug’s surprise, removed from it another pair of plastic panties. These, too, Doug obediently pulled on, wondering idly what the point of two pairs of panties was. He noted as he adjusted the waist that there was something unusual about the elastic band, but before he had even realized that there was a small chain embedded in the waistband, Mrs. Warren had reached over and snapped closed a tiny padlock. Doug looked up in surprise. Why did he need to be locked in? But Mrs. Warren just smiled and said, “There you go. Now, here’s the plan. After a while you’re going to want to soil your diaper. I know you’re incontinent, but my advice to you is to try to hold it in for at least an hour and a half. “The reason for that is that I want these suppositories to stay inside you and melt completely. If you just poop them out now, they won’t help you at all. So the rule is, keep them in until they’re melted completely; you won’t be able to tell, of course, but an hour and a half should do the trick. I’m going to check your diaper when I change it in six hours, and if I find any part of the suppository unmelted, I’ll know you didn’t get the full effect. If that happens, we go directly to enemas, which you will like even less. So for your comfort, I’d like to try the suppositories first.” Actually it was less for his comfort than it was to draw out the entire affair. Enemas were over too quickly. “Every six hours, I’ll come here and unlock you, let you shower if you need to, and put you in a clean diaper with two more suppositories. “In twenty-four hours, after four messy diapers, I’ll assume you’re no longer constipated, and you can get back to your regular life, no pun intended. Okay? Walk me downstairs,” she said brightly as she picked up her purse. Wearing nothing but his diaper and plastic panties, Doug accompanied her to the front door. “I have to tell you, Doug, that as important as this treatment is, I know you’ll appreciate my help over the next day. I’d like to hear you thank me for that help every time I see you through tomorrow.” She looked at Doug expectantly. “Thank you, Mommy,” Doug said quickly, though he wasn’t sure he meant it. At his response, Mrs. Warren smiled a wonderfully evil smile, said good-bye, and left his apartment, telling him she’d be back at six. Doug looked down at his bulky diaper, now encased in two pairs of plastic panties. He started to get a foreboding that the next day wasn’t going to be very enjoyable for him. He’d actually never heard of suppositories, but he hoped they didn’t work very quickly, because he had to work this afternoon! There wasn’t much to do, just a couple of assays in the lab, but they were timed, and he had to be there all day, until nearly six o’clock, to supervise them. What if he had a bowel movement at work? He had purposely avoided this until now, knowing that the smell would be hideous and difficult to control. He stared at the two pairs of panties he wore and felt a chill up his spine as he realized that they must be there for a reason. He was probably being set up for a disaster. Damn that woman! he thought. She must know the effect this might have. She was doing it on purpose. And now he was locked in! He couldn’t escape this at all now: judging by the double protection she’d given him, he was destined to have an enormous accident in a potentially embarrassing place, and there was no way to avoid it! He wanted desperately to expel those little pellets right now, before they could do whatever they were going to do. But that would apparently lead to an enema, which didn’t sound nice at all, and if he knew Mrs. Warren at all, probably a spanking as well. No, he didn’t have a choice. As bad as this day might get, he knew he had to face it. A glance at his watch told him that this escapade had already nearly made him late for getting back to the lab. So he wolfed down his sandwich and tried to find pants to cover himself, now that he was bigger than ever before. He got his longest shirt and tried it on. It seemed to disguise his diapered state, but when he walked, it tightened against his diaper with every move and made things very obvious, he thought. But that was the best he could do. He had to hurry. He got to his lab without having anyone comment on or stare at him, so he started to feel better about the afternoon still ahead of him. Until he sat down for the first time and suddenly felt a cramp in his belly. Uh-oh, he thought. It’s already starting? He hadn’t expected it to be quite this fast-acting. It had only been about thirty minutes since Mrs. Warren had inserted the suppositories. He sat at his desk and tried to concentrate on other things, but soon Doug could think of nothing but his bowels. He heard a familiar gurgling in his stomach, the same gurgling he’d heard a month ago in his bathtub. This was when he knew that this situation would get much worse before it would get better. He was again filled with the desire to push those angry pellets out into his diaper where they couldn’t hurt him, but still he resisted the urge. He wanted to get through this without making it any worse. The pain and urgency in his bottom got much worse when he got up twenty minutes later to turn off a gel he’d been running. He literally had to clinch his teeth as he stood working so as not to soil himself. By this point the contents of his intestines were screaming to be let loose, but Doug was now determined to go the distance. If he gave in to his urges now, on top of all of the misery he’d already endured over the last hour, he’d also probably be spanked and subjected to an enema. A co-worker came in several minutes later, and Doug tried to stay still, so as not to move and thereby give away his diapered status. But his friend noticed his obvious discomfort, and suggested he take the afternoon off. Doug nodded grimly but didn’t say anything. He knew that wasn’t really an option. If he went home “sick,” he’d have to tell Mrs Warren, whose remedy might be worse yet. To his relief his co-worker simply shook his head and left. Doug was sweating by the time ninety minutes were up. But he was elated: he had done it, and now he could relieve himself of this torment. Yet it wasn’t much of a victory, he knew, as he was now simply given the unenviable opportunity to mess his diaper at work and then stay in it for four and a half uncomfortable hours. His discomfort would simply shift to outside his body, with the added risk of someone discovering him. He was trapped and silently cursed Mrs. Warren again. He was beginning to realize (in part) how diabolical she could be. A minute later, when the next round of cramps struck him, he realized it didn’t matter what he wanted or who was to blame. As he nearly cried out in agony, he instinctively squatted down and urgently pushed what he could of his intestinal contents out into his diaper. And his bowels responded explosively. Doug couldn’t help but enjoy the sensation, momentarily luxuriating in the absence of pain and pressure. When he could, he stood up again and looked around. The lab room was empty, thank goodness. That experience had gone unwitnessed. But now what? How to hide the very full state of his pants? Doug made the unfortunate decision to sit down to think, and immediately wished he hadn’t. He felt his diaper’s contents squish and spread over his bottom and between his legs. This was indeed a mess! Once seated, though, Doug realized that if he stayed that way and didn’t move, the smell wasn’t too bad. So he just spent the rest of his day parked in his dirty diaper at his desk, periodically relieving himself as he needed, feeling no compunction to hold it in now. Luckily, most people seemed to have taken off early on this Friday afternoon, and he had only two further visitors to his lonely lab, neither requiring him to stand. He couldn’t believe his luck, if you could call it that, but after the rest of the day he’d had, he was grateful for any break he could get. He listened for the familiar and distant sounds of keys jingling and doors shutting as the rest of the employees left for the day. When all was quiet, at about five-thirty, Doug gingerly stood, picked up his relatively-useless diaper bag, and waddled out of his lab. Doug’s fear of being smelled on the bus convinced him to walk home, an uncomfortable trip that contrasted vividly with his walk to work this noon. Now, with every step he felt the largely liquid load in his diaper shift and squish, and the discomfort only increased over the fifteen minutes it took to get home. The only good thing was that it was nearly six when he arrived home, and he only had to wait a couple minutes for Mrs. Warren to show up. He couldn’t wait. It had indeed been a miserable afternoon, from start to finish. With the exception of his continence test, he’d never been so uncomfortable in his life, he’d never had such a full diaper, and he’d never had to wear a messy diaper for so long. He was thoroughly disgusted, and ready as never before for a clean diaper. Mrs. Warren was, as always, punctual, and unlocked the outer plastic panties immediately. She watched with an amused smile as he pulled them off. They were obviously dirty on the inside, a sign that his “accident” had overloaded his thick diaper and the first pair of plastic pants. Doug’s gratitude for the necessary protection this afternoon was tempered by the confirmation that Mrs. Warren had known exactly what would happen to him today. She tried to play it off as concern for his incontinence, but Doug was beginning to suspect that Mrs. Warren was enjoying his unhappiness. This was such a frightening thought that he pushed it temporarily from his mind. He remained conscious only of a desire to end his ICP at the end of the six months. While thinking, he also pulled the other panties off and untaped his loaded diaper. “Whew. That is a dirty diaper,” she said, chuckling. Doug didn’t share her good humor, for he was also embarrassed for her to see him in such a humiliating state, but he reminded himself that it had happened before. And like before, his mind was primarily thinking of getting cleaned up. He waddled carefully into the bathroom and showered, leaving his filthy diaper with Mrs. Warren to examine. She did, noting the absence of any remaining, unmelted suppository. That was a little disappointing to her for several reasons. It deprived her of the opportunity to “enemize” Doug, which she knew she’d enjoy. More importantly, however, it meant that he was still continent enough of bowel to hold significant pressure in for a long time. But she remembered that all of her boys, most of whom were perfectly on schedule, usually did fine for the first round. It was rounds two and three, which for Doug would come overnight tonight, when their increasingly unconditioned sphincters gave way and allowed their contents out before ninety minutes were up. Exactly when the boys control failed during this difficult day of bowel torture gave her important information regarding their “progress,” and this was the major reason that she put her babies through this rectal hell. Doug took his time in the shower, enjoying the sensation of being out of a diaper for a few minutes. His relief at having escaped the day’s earlier torment was all-consuming. He savored the feeling, and couldn’t really think about anything else. And this preoccupation with the present, like every other part of Doug’s Incontinence Control Program, was planned by Mrs. Warren. She had discovered that the more her clients were focused on detailed rules and demands, the less capable they were of seeing the bigger picture. Doug rightfully thought today’s experience was horrendous, but because it took all of his concentration simply to make it through the day, he couldn’t spend any time considering the larger purpose for the ordeal, which was to assess his progress toward incontinence. He was trying only to make it through each day without a spanking; had he known the stakes, he might have shifted his efforts toward avoiding Mrs. Warren’s long-term plans for him. But Doug was so focused at the moment, in fact, that he was completely shocked and dismayed when he emerged from the shower and saw another two pellets waiting for him in Mrs. Warren’s gloved hand. He’d forgotten that he had more to endure. “No, please, Mommy,” he whined. His bowels already ached. “I’m all cleaned out, I promise.” “Shush,” Mrs. Warren said, pushing Doug back on his changing pad. “No more backtalk. You’ll be done soon enough. We have to make sure.” Doug compliantly spread and lifted his legs, allowing himself to be powdered, invaded by the glycerine, and re-diapered. Mrs. Warren had two clean plastic panties for Doug to put on. Doug watched helplessly as she locked the outer one. He knew better than to object. “Do I have to wait six whole hours?” he asked, pushing Mrs. Warren as far as he dared. “Absolutely.” She packed up her purse. “But it’s so long in a messy diaper,” he whimpered. Mrs. Warren glared at him. “That’s enough, young man. Look at it this way: this is making up for all the time you didn’t spend in dirty diapers this week. Remember, now, same rules, if you don’t want an enema. Try to wait ninety minutes, and I’ll see you around midnight. I’ll wake you up if I need to. Now, I suggest you have some dinner.” She left, and Doug waddled downstairs to eat. This time, though his bowels were nearly empty, they were also still very irritated from the previous suppositories, and they reacted quickly and strongly to this new onslaught of glycerine. The cramps and discomfort started within five to ten minutes, and Doug nearly cried several times. This was so pathetic. He wanted nothing more than to control his own bowels, and he felt degraded, angry, and miserable that he wasn’t allowed to make his own decision about such elementary functions. Mrs. Warren would have been happy that his greatest desire tonight was craving the ability to mess his diaper when he wanted? Life for Doug had certainly changed. But once again he bumped up against that wall he now always faced: Mrs. Warren and her absolute power over him. Though his ego still rejected his current impotent situation, he knew he had to force himself to submit to her difficult will. So he gritted his teeth and tried to keep his diaper clean. Meanwhile, while his bowels churned away, he unconsciously (and vainly) searched for a way to rationalize his participation in this absurd ICP. If he could gain something, anything, out of this humiliating return to diaperhood, his self-esteem wouldn’t suffer as much. Perhaps, he allowed himself to think, Mrs. Warren had actually been right, and he had always been a little incontinent. That would make all of this worthwhile, and this pain a little more tolerable. If this were so, then he was in the right hands, and he should just relax and trust in Mrs. Warren’s experience with such matters. But even as he allowed himself to think this way, he knew it wasn’t true. Mrs. Warren was mean to him. His defensive ego was playing tricks on him, and that’s probably just what Mrs. Warren wanted to happen. He shook his head. He hadn’t been incontinent. Probably. He didn’t think so. But it seemed like things were more confusing these days, which frightened him a little in a vague way. He was, as always, able to reassure himself that, at the very least, it would all end in five months, and he could return to normality. There was still a finite end to this nonsense, a light at the end of the tunnel. Doug’s second vigil of the day ended just over an hour in, when he decided that maybe an hour really was enough to melt those little pellets, and that waiting longer would hurt too much. Plus, he started to admit to himself, he was getting tired of holding it in: he wasn’t used to such a strain. For the last four weeks, he hadn’t tried to hold it in at all; now he had diarrhea and was expected to hold it in all day long? No one could do that, he thought to himself, practicing some dangerous denial. He regarded his task as super-human, and something of which anyone would tire. So once again Doug filled his diaper with loose, brown, sticky poop, and he sighed and grimaced as he sat down in it to watch TV until Mrs. Warren returned at midnight. He decided to try to ignore his messy state, and, in fact, he was beginning to grow used to it. His acclimation to such infantile discomfort showed the effect this month had had on him. Mrs. Warren would have again been pleased. And she was. At midnight Mrs. Warren arrived and found Doug asleep on the sofa in his filthy diaper, and she smiled. She gently woke him, guided him as he sleepily headed upstairs, and helped him remove his panties and diaper. This time Mrs. Warren found what she was looking for in Doug’s diaper. Two small suppository remnants told her Doug was unable to maintain good sphincter tone for ninety minutes tonight. She was thrilled, but decided to put off Doug’s enema until the morning, when they would both be more awake, for the benefit of her heightened enjoyment and his increased misery. She didn’t want either one of them to sleep through it! Doug showered more quickly this time, realizing that there was no virtue in putting off the inevitable. It would just make everything last longer. He dried himself, and, still naked, headed back to his bedroom, where another diaper was waiting for him, as well as Mrs. Warren, who had two more suppositories ready. He groaned as she inserted them with a gloved finger, and then he obediently allowed her to tape him up and lock him in still another plastic panty. Mrs. Warren saw his exhaustion and beaten spirit and couldn’t resist a smile. “Halfway there, Doug. Twelve more hours.” He grunted in return. He was tired physically and mentally, and her encouragement couldn’t help him. “Sleep well. I’ll be here a little late, at about seven o’clock, so that I don’t have to wake you too early,” she said, stroking his hair gently. “Thank Mommy, and tell her goodnight.” “Goodnight, Mommy,” Doug wearily replied. “And thanks,” he said unconvincingly. Mrs. Warren had scarcely driven away when Doug felt his bowel cramp for the first time. He groaned and rolled over in bed, still feeling very sleepy but knowing that he should stay awake for a while. When this round of cramps subsided several minutes later, however, he quickly drifted off to sleep. In its weakened and exhausted state, Doug’s rectal sphincter was no match for the pressure of its contents as they built over the next fifteen minutes. And Mrs. Warren would therefore have loved to have seen the moment, not half an hour after she placed the suppositories, when Doug soiled himself in his sleep for the first time in more than twenty years. He didn’t even stir when it happened, and was so used to wearing messy diapers (and so tired from the events of the previous day) that he never awoke, and thus was surprised when Mrs. Warren had to shake him awake at seven the next morning. “Was Douggie a good little baby last night?” Mrs. Warren asked sweetly when Doug’s eyes finally fluttered open. “Yes, Mommy,” Doug said reflexively, before he had time to think about whether it was true. He sat up and knew instantly that he was messy. But when had it happened? “Well, let’s see, shall we?” Mrs. Warren unlocked his panties and helped Doug pull them down his legs. Then they untaped his diaper, and Doug looked with curiosity down between his legs to his clean-shaven groin, and the diaper underneath. It contained a little bit of poop and two well-formed glycerine pellets which hadn’t even come close to melting. Doug caught his breath. Had he fallen asleep? He stuttered a few unintelligible syllables before Mrs. Warren cut him off. “That’s enough. Looks like maybe we weren’t quite as good a little boy as we thought. Head on in there and take your shower if you want, and we’ll talk about it afterward.” Doug complied, shaking his head in confusion. How did that happen? he wondered. And now what would she do? She has to be kidding about the enema, that’s absurd, I’ve never had one of those and I’m not going to start now, he thought, even as he knew that Mrs. Warren didn’t break her promises. But it’s so drastic. Maybe she won’t make me. But when he returned to his bedroom, of course, there was a large clean bag of soapy liquid hanging from one of his bedposts, with a long tube snaking its way down to his changing pad. Mrs. Warren was holding a container of K-Y jelly and looking at him expectantly. “Doug, I’d like for you to lay down here for a minute.” Doug was scared. “Mrs. Warren…I mean…Mommy, do we have to? I mean, I’ll just try again with those suppository things. Please?” “Oh, don’t worry. We will: we still have one more try with those. But first I’d just like for you to come over here and lie down. Just for a minute.” He knew now that he couldn’t escape it, so he slowly approached the bed. “That’s a good boy. On your hands and knees, like a puppy dog, with your bottom down here. Good boy. Now drop to your elbows and put your head down. And spread your legs a little. Perfect.” Doug closed his eyes. He felt a slippery finger touch his bottom, and then felt a small firm object invading him. He involuntarily tried to clamp down against it but couldn’t. He heard a click as Mrs. Warren released the valve on the tubing to allow two liters of sudsy warm water to fill his bowels. Doug then felt a warmth in his abdomen and an unusual, nondescript feeling as well. Doug was happy to learn that it didn’t really hurt at all. It lasted for what seemed quite a while. Finally, the plastic object was removed from his bottom. Not that bad, Doug thought. Mrs. Warren said, “Okay, now just hold still for a minute.” As Doug waited he felt gurgling throughout his abdomen and wondered what would happen next. Mrs. Warren was considering whether or not to use the tampon at this point. She decided first to test Doug’s sphincter further. There would be time for the tampon later, and this could be fun. She had tried butt plugs in the past, but tampons did the same job and seemed to embarrass her boys even more. “Get up now, Doug.” He stood and found Mrs. Warren waiting with a pair of transparent plastic panties, which she helped him pull up his legs. “Two rules: first, you may not sit or lie down while holding an enema. It’s medically dangerous,” she lied. She’d learned that it was harder for her babies to hold it in while standing. “Second, to get maximum benefit, you should hold it in for twenty minutes. After that, we’ll put a diaper back on you and let you empty. These panties are just in case of an accident, but I certainly don’t expect you to need them. Okay, now run along. I suggest you make yourself some breakfast.” Doug nodded and headed downstairs as Mrs. Warren followed. He was feeling extremely self-conscious of his essentially naked state, and also of the weird feeling of plastic next to his skin. On the other hand, he thought twenty minutes would be no problem, compared with the hour and a half of suppository hell. Mrs. Warren sat down in the living room as Doug poured himself some cereal. Suddenly he got an unpleasant feeling in his belly. It was sort of vague when it started, but it made him call in to Mrs. Warren to ask what would happen just in case he couldn’t hold it for twenty minutes. “What usually happens when you break one of my rules?” she called back. “I’ll give you a hint: it involves my lap and your bottom.” Doug rolled his eyes in response, careful not to let Mrs.Warren see him do it. Everything was spankings with this lady… Suddenly Doug was dropped to his knees by a huge abdominal cramp and the strongest urge to defecate he’d ever experienced. It was urgent and commanding in a way that even the diaper juice and the suppositories weren’t. He simply couldn’t stop it. He moaned as his tortured bowels ejected the enema into his transparent panties. Mrs. Warren ran in from the living room when she heard his yelp, and upon reaching the kitchen door, stood and enjoyed the view as the water and stool graphically filled his panties. The spasm relented for a moment, and Doug tried to catch his breath. What was that?! He was dazed. He tried to clear his head, when suddenly Mrs. Warren yanked him by his arm, forcing him to stand. “Upstairs, young man. I’ll teach you to respect my rules,” she said angrily. “I…I couldn’t help it,” he stammered. “Please…it wasn’t my fault.” And then, again, Doug experienced cramps, cried out, and released more enema into his dripping panties. “Oh, you’re begging for it now,” Mrs. Warren snapped, forcefully pulling him over to the stairs and dragging him up them. “Wash yourself off and then get in here pronto,” she told him. “You’ve got two minutes to be over my knees, or you’re really going to regret it.” Doug was about to cry from pain, frustration, and embarrassment, but he hurried into the bathroom, carefully removed his soaking plastic panties, and stepped into the shower. He let loose another stream of enema, quickly rinsed off, then jumped out and dried himself perfunctorily. Still nude, he hurried into the bedroom, where Mrs. Warren sat stiffly in a straight backed chair near his desk. He stopped abruptly in front of her, suddenly realizing what was about to happen. “Let’s go, little boy,” Mrs. Warren said. “You’ve only got seconds before I really get angry.” So Doug bent himself awkwardly across her lap, grabbed the chair legs as he had previously been instructed, and waited. His bare bottom tingled expectantly. He hoped that she’d go easy on him, but she sounded angry. She wasn’t really angry, of course. As she began to paddle his bottom with her strong hand, she was nearly gleeful about Doug’s apparent progress. He’d only taken about three minutes, far below average in this, the most accurate gauge of actual incontinence she had developed. Most boys at this stage lasted eight to nine minutes, but Doug had folded quickly, evidence that he was enjoying and using his diapers properly. Wonderful news. A spanking opportunity was icing for her. And she enjoyed this icing, letting her steel hands fall sharply on Doug’s reddening bottom, hearing the vain whimpers of protest dissolve into sniffles and then into outright crying. She felt a certain satisfaction as she delivered this assault. Doug wiggled helplessly, just like all the others. Grown men indeed, she thought with disdain. It was times like this that made her feel that anyone who would allow any of this to happen to himself actually deserved it. These boys, who let her take over their lives and dictate their most basic functions, who allowed her to usurp every last vestige of their independence and dignity, surely must benefit from her discipline. If they’d let themselves fall this deeply into her power, she thought, some part of them must be every bit the little baby she forced them to be. They desperately needed to be punished for their pathetic passivity. These thoughts spurred ever greater spanking effort, and she continued until she was sure Doug’s bottom would be sore for several days. Then she dumped him unceremoniously on the floor, where he lay crying. She went into the bathroom and refilled the enema bag, though this time she only put one liter of soapy warm water, since he probably hadn’t even fully expelled the last one. She forced Doug, who was now only sniffling, back on the bed and told him to lie like a puppy dog again. At this point he started crying all over again at the recognition that he would receive another enema. She smacked his bottom sharply, and he quickly resumed the position amidst his tears. She administered the enema, this time inserting the large tampon she had brought with her earlier. Doug felt the plastic removed from his bottom, but to his surprise couldn’t close his anus. Something was still there, and it quickly swelled with the water from the enema, expanding and filling his anal canal completely. Doug turned his head around, hoping to see what it was, but there was nothing to see. He looked to Mrs. Warren for an explanation, and she nearly laughed out loud at his confusion. Doug didn’t understand what was happening, but his bottom still stung enough that he didn’t want to ask any questions, so he remained unsure of what she’d done. She made him put on another pair of transparent panties, this time just for show, since nothing would get out of his bottom this time, and led him downstairs, where he tried to finish making his breakfast. The heat from his burning bottom built up inside of his panties, making it difficult for him to concentrate. This time, when the cramps hit him, he again let out a yell and doubled over in pain, but as his intestines tried to expel the enema, they met the impenetrable resistance of the tampon, and, indeed, nothing came out. Doug was surprised and a bit upset, since the pain therefore continued unabated. The cramps eventually let up, but resumed after another minute, and by the time twenty minutes were over, Doug was crying again. He never even finished making his breakfast. Mrs. Warren gently led him upstairs and replaced his panties with one of his disposable diaper. He had never been so overjoyed to get into one. Mrs. Warren reached down the back of his diaper with a gloved hand and pulled the tampon’s string, gently working it out of Doug’s bottom. She withdrew her hand as quickly as possible, leaving the tampon behind, since she knew from experience that the client’s anal sphincter was probably totally worthless at this point of the exercise. And sure enough, a liter of liquid immediately and uncontrollably gushed out into Doug’s diaper. So again Mrs. Warren changed Doug, who was nearly catatonic after everything he’d been through. He didn’t put up any resistance and probably wouldn’t have even noticed the fact that she inserted the last two suppositories before taping him up again, except that she pointed it out and told him to try not to poop for ninety minutes. After locking him one final time into the panties, she finally left for the morning, not to return until after noon. Doug was not surprised to feel the pellets ooze helplessly out of his bottom into his diaper less than fifteen minutes later. He didn’t care. He went to sleep. Not even his sore, hot bottom could interfere with his exhaustion. When Mrs. Warren returned six hours later, she told Doug once again to clean himself up, which he did. Doug was remotely upset when Mrs. Warren told him that they weren’t done yet, that he needed one more enema before it was all over, since he hadn’t melted these pellets either. But he had run out of emotion, and felt his misery only dully now. For twenty minutes following the administration of the enema, he did find the energy to cry, as colonic spasms shook him repeatedly. But then it was over, and Mrs. Warren cleaned and rediapered him, told him to count his messy diapers from now on, and then left him alone. Finally, he sat numbly on his sofa, relieved to be wearing nothing but a nice, fresh diaper. His bowels felt totally worn out. He couldn’t believe what had happened to him over the past day, so he just tried to block it out and watch TV. Five months, he thought. Five months. Chapter 10 Doug’s recovery from his “bowel encouragement” took the rest of the weekend. He was worn out. He was definitely not up to facing Emily the next day in the grocery store, and was greatly relieved when arrived to find her (again) not there, this time because it happened to be her day off. Another uneventful trip around the store with the quiet homely girl, who, while not providing the sexual thrill that Emily did, also did not fill him with anxiety, either. He was happy to get home and relax for the rest of the day. The work week, too, was unremarkable. Doug did find himself filling his diet with fiber, trying to avoid a repeat performance of last week when he apparently turned in too few messy diapers. This had the unpleasant effect of significantly increasing the mess in each diaper, the number of messy diapers, and the amount of cleanup necessary. It also led unavoidably to several embarrassing accidents at work, which Doug was horrified about, but after several tense, messy trips to the restroom, hoping nobody smelled him, he decided that either everyone was being remarkably nonchalant about the whole thing, or else they really weren’t noticing. The increased risk of discovery, however, still seemed worth the knowledge that he wouldn’t have to undergo any more “encouragement.” By midweek he’d recovered enough nerve to plan another orgasm. He made sure the elements were in place, and then carefully executed the plan. He enjoyed another wonderful moment of pleasure (even if it was alone). And once again, everything went flawlessly, the evidence apparently being missed by Mrs. Warren’s legion of suspicious inspectors. This ended Doug’s fifth week on a high note, as he again congratulated himself on his genius. He would now force himself to wait another week before attempting another orgasm. It was difficult but necessary, and better than nothing at all. As Sunday once again approached, he started to get worried about facing Emily. One of these weeks Emily had to be there. And when he arrived at the grocery store, he was filled with anxiety to learn that this would be that week: Emily would escort him today. Over the weeks, he had often struggled with what he should let happen today. Though his hormones were kept at a sky-high level by his infrequent sexual release, and though the thought of Emily raised this level even further, there were two excellent reasons not to allow himself to get involved with her. First, their age difference, while not criminal, was odd. He would feel a little like he was robbing the cradle. Second, if anything happened, it (like everything else, apparently) would certainly get back to Mrs. Warren, and there was no telling what would happen. His bottom had just stopped being sore from last week about three days ago, and he wanted to be very good right now. He was turning into a wimp, he knew, but he told himself he should avoid sex. He’d get his life back in a few months. So he’d made the decision not to let anything happen. His only worry was that Emily might make this promise difficult for him to keep. He half dreaded (and half craved) her checking his diaper. Would she try to take things further than she did last time? “Hi, Doug!” she chirped as she walked up to him. She gave his diaper, necessarily visible outside his shirt, a little upward tug, apparently to make sure it wasn’t falling down. Doug felt the motion in his genitals, and was distressed to observe that they were already betraying him by becoming aroused. Hopefully it wouldn’t become an embarrassing problem later. “Have you been a good boy?” she asked playfully as Doug tried to start shopping. Doug nodded, unwilling either to lead her on or to divulge any more embarrassing details about his situation. “Any more spankings?” she asked, with obvious interest. Doug bit his lip. Last weekend’s activities were the last thing he wanted to talk about. Emily saw this written on his face. “Uh-oh,” she said, laughing. “Somebody got his bottom spanked.” She paused, clearly waiting for Doug to say something. But he didn’t. “What was it for?” she asked, still smiling. No answer. “Did it hurt?” No answer. He was aware of how much spankings seemed to turn Emily on, and his lifelong desire for a “playmate” or a “Mommy” tugged at him to grab this opportunity. Could he ever find someone like this again if he passed her up? But, he reminded himself that his fantasies were no longer fantasies, but realities, and they were also no longer fun. Her interests, he was surprised to realize, didn’t really turn him on right now, though her interest itself did. At another time the irony would have amused him, but right now it hurt. “So you don’t want to talk about it, huh? That’s okay for now. It’s probably time to check that diaper of yours anyway. Come on.” Doug followed her to the hallway with trepidation. He wanted to be good. He dutifully pulled down his pants, and as always, felt his erection mount inside his diaper. He was helpless to stop it. The only issue was whether she would feel it today. He tried to think of other things, terrible brutal things, gross disgusting things, complicated scientific things, anything, but try as he might, he felt his erection still growing. He watched Emily’s face as she began to stroke his diaper, first in back, quickly, then in front. Sure enough, before long, a look of surprise crossed her face, and suddenly her fingers probed more actively and deeply through his diaper. Doug tried to ignore this, but he couldn’t help thinking how nice it felt. Even through his thick diaper, it felt so good to be touched. He felt his excitement continue to rise. He looked down at Emily, whose eyes were closed, obviously enjoying this immensely. Suddenly she stopped and said, “I can’t quite tell by feeling the outside.” Her eyes shone with excitement. “I’m afraid I’ll need to check the inside of your diaper, Doug.” She reached up to untape him. Doug panicked. This definitely crossed the line, he thought. In a reflex movement, Doug’s hands caught hers before she could accomplish her task. “Emily…please don’t. I don’t think it’s a good idea.” Emily’s eyes flashed up at him in sudden anger. “What are you talking about? Who are you to say what is or isn’t a good idea? I’m the babysitter, and if I say I need to check the inside of your diaper, then that’s what I’ll do.” She reached out again toward Doug’s waist. Again he stopped her. “Please,” he pleaded. “We both know where this is headed, and even though I want it too, I have to tell you that it’s a bad idea.” She was hurt, he could see. She hadn’t expected him to rebuff her seduction, and by her face Doug could tell that her ego was damaged. To Doug’s alarm, however, she seemed to convert this disappointment into anger towards him. “Oh, yeah?” she challenged. “I don’t think you should be talking to me like that. I bet you want to apologize. Since I like you, I’ll give you one more chance. Go ahead. I’m waiting.” “Emily,” Doug pleaded. “Please believe me. It’s not that I don’t want to see where we could go with this, but I just can’t.” Emily’s face hardened. “Fine.” She stood, turned sharply and strode away, back toward the store. Doug sighed. Getting turned down was always unpleasant, and this had been no different. It was worse because he did want to be with her, to explore the potential between them. But he had been good, and he felt proud of himself, if extremely frustrated sexually. Mrs. Warren, he thought, would be proud when he told her. As Doug pulled up and buckled his pants, careful once again to let the diaper be visible above them, he wondered idly where Emily had rushed off to. Probably to pout somewhere, he thought. Or… Doug suddenly panicked when he realized where she had probably gone. As quick as he could waddle in his bulky diaper, Doug hurried toward the front of the store. He caught sight of Emily far ahead of him, in full stride. Doug tried to catch up to her, but she was walking very quickly, and his own diaper slowed him down a lot. “Emily!” he whispered frantically. He had to stop her from doing this. But she didn’t so much as turn her head as she strode ever closer to the customer service desk where the manager stood. “Emily, please!” Doug hissed at her. If he could stop her, he might be able to appease her. He hadn’t thought she would do this. But she had no intention of giving him another chance. Doug watched in horror as Emily reached the service desk. He slowed down and approached carefully. “Excuse me. May I please have the key to the stockroom?” “Sure, sweetie. For a diaper change or a spanking?” A smile grew on Mrs. Johnson’s face as she looked from Emily to Doug, who now stood several feet away, listening and looking scared. Finally some fun with this boy. Emily was fuming. It sort of frightened Doug to see her so angry. She was still pretty, but suddenly she also looked formidable. “A spanking. The little baby wouldn’t let me check his diaper.” Mrs. Johnson nodded in sympathy. “Well, you’re the babysitter. The rules were laid out clearly to begin with, so it’s your decision,” she said as she found the appropriate key. “Do you think you can handle it alone, or would you like some help?” Doug’s head pounded and his heart was sinking into the floor. He couldn’t believe this was happening. Emily’s brow furrowed. “Well, this first time I guess I could use some help. And then the next time I’ll try it alone. I’ve just never done this before.” Once again Doug was being totally ignored. He wasn’t even asked about his side of the story. It’s like his opinion didn’t even merit attention. He began to feel dizzy and disoriented. Mrs. Johnson smiled slyly. “I guess that’s true, isn’t it? Always on the other side. Well, welcome.” Doug tried to listen, but they weren’t making much sense. “Of course I’ll help, dear. There are some helpful hints everyone should know. I’ll be glad to give whatever advice I can.” “Thanks. I’d be grateful, and he’ll really benefit from your experience, I’m sure. Are those the keys?” Mrs. Johnson nodded as she locked the door to her office behind her. “Yes. We can get started immediately.” The two females, without a glance at Doug, started back toward that infamous rear hallway. Doug didn’t move. It seemed silly to pander to their abusive whims. They weren’t his mommy, and they wouldn’t even talk to him. He wasn’t about to cooperate, when he knew it would just lead to a spanking. He just watched them walk away together, and felt more than a little irked that they should expect him simply to accompany them willingly back to the slaughterhouse. As if he should “know his place” or something. It was insulting and stupid. He heard their discussion continue. “Now, Emily, if you’ll recall, I believe spankings should follow as soon after naughty acts as possible, to assure that the child remembers for what he or she is being spanked. If you…” At this point Mrs. Johnson stopped and glanced backward down the long aisle to where Doug was standing. “Whoops. It seems we’ve lost someone.” Emily nodded. “He’s not very bright, is he?” Mrs. Johnson shook her head. “Perhaps not.” In a louder voice obviously meant for Doug’s ears, she called, “Come along, young man. We can’t very well do this without you.” Doug didn’t budge. He was thinking he should just walk out now while he had the chance. But Mrs. Johnson knew just how to motivate him. “Come on, dear. I’m sure you don’t want my report to Mrs. Warren to be any worse than it already will be.” Damn! Doug thought. He should have guessed they were good friends by now. That, unfortunately, sealed his fate. He no longer had a choice about cooperating. He hung his head and trudged back toward them. He still had a chance at damage control: if he was good for them, maybe they wouldn’t call Mrs. Warren. “That’s better,” Mrs. Johnson said as he reached them and they restarted their short march. “As I was saying, Emily, if you wait too long, the child may forget what he has done wrong.” “I hurried,” Emily said. “Do you think it’s too late?” “I don’t know,” Mrs. Johnson said as they reached the back hallway. She opened the storeroom with her key. “Why don’t you ask him?” “Okay,” Emily said, smiling wickedly at Doug. “Doug, do you remember why you need a spanking?” This was the opportunity he’d been waiting for, a chance to tell his side. “Yeah, right. Mrs. Johnson, what really happened was, I had already let her check me,” Doug said to Mrs. Johnson. “She’s lying to you. What she really did was…” “Here’s something else that’s good to learn,” Mrs. Johnson interrupted Doug to tell Emily. They entered the dark stockroom. “Never tolerate arguing or backtalk. The spanking is never subject to negotiation. That just distracts the child from the lesson to be learned. He’s probably easily confused.” Doug’s mouth hung open at this injustice as Emily smirked at him behind Mrs. Johnson’s back. She knew she’d won. “You simply need to tell the child that he is going to get a spanking now, no matter what. Then remind him why he needs it, in case he forgot, and inform him that backtalk will only lead to a longer and more painful spanking for him. Why don’t you practice saying that to Doug?” she suggested, flipping on a light to reveal shelves of boxes and piles of empty, flattened cardboard. Doug rolled his eyes in disgust, which luckily went unnoticed. “Doug, I don’t tolerate any backtalk, and we’re not going to talk about whether or not you need a spanking. You are definitely going to get a spanking now, because you wouldn’t let me check your diaper like a good baby. Do you understand?” Doug stared at her. She couldn’t really expect him to play along. “Answer her, Doug,” Mrs. Johnson prompted. Doug nodded sullenly. Mrs. Johnson swiftly reached around and smacked Doug’s diapered bottom. “You treat us with respect, young man, or you won’t want to sit down for a week. I want to hear a ‘yes, ma'am' or ‘no, ma’am’ from you when you answer our questions. Is that understood?” “Yes, ma’am.” Doug hated this. Stupid, evil women. “Good. Now answer Emily’s question.” “Yes, ma’am,” Doug told Emily, his voice trembling slightly with frustration. “Good boy,” Mrs. Johnson said to Doug. To Emily, “See how I did that? Swift and appropriate punishment that a child like Doug can understand, coupled with instructions on how to avoid more punishment.” She turned and indicated a chair which sat near a wall. “Now let’s get going.” Emily walked over and seated herself stiffly in the chair. She clearly enjoyed playing the role of an angry mommy. Doug couldn’t help wondering why it was that she seemed to enjoy hurting and abusing him. On a more practical note, he was beginning to hope that Emily’s inexperience would make this experience less painful than the spankings of Mrs. Warren. After all, he thought, it had to be less painful than that. “Now, dear, the first issue is what position to use. I, as you know, favor the lap position, not only because it’s humiliating for him, but also because you really have good physical control of him as well. It is also a convenient position from which to deliver a good, hard spanking, which is, of course, your goal. For some reason, I find it to be the most emotionally satisfying position as well.” “Come lie over my lap,” Emily commanded Doug. “Not so fast, sweetie. You want to do this to his bare bottom, right?” Emily nodded enthusiastically. “Then you need him to pull down his pants before you get him on your lap. Otherwise you’ll have an awkward time. The diaper may be removed either before or after he bends over your knee. I like to untape or unpin it and pull it back once he’s there, though, so that the front of the diaper is still there to protect your lap. It’s not uncommon to have little children let loose in the middle of the spanking because they get so upset, and the last thing you want is to emerge all wet from a satisfying and effective spanking. It can ruin a perfectly good spanking.” She looked at Doug, who was taking in this scene but hardly believing it was happening. A spanking lesson, with him as the subject. “Has that ever happened to you, Doug?” Doug stared at her. He couldn’t believe he was being asked this question. The absurdity of the situation washed over him. He wanted to laugh. But her eyes remained on him and grew hard. Doug remembered her earlier admonition, and said, “No, ma’am,” as politely as he could. “Well, it might today. Maybe you just haven’t been spanked hard enough,” she commented ominously. “Go ahead, dear,” she said to Emily. “Pull down your pants, young man,” the girl called out to Doug. Doug obeyed reluctantly. This was unlike any of the experiences he’d had thus far. This was so academic, so clearly not motivated by anger or justified by his behavior. Yet the painful outcome would be the same. They even appeared to be having fun. It was so unfair: this time, he knew, he had done nothing wrong. In fact, he had been trying to obey a rule. And yet, here he was, pants around his ankles, about to have his bottom paddled by this spoiled teenager who was just mad because Doug hadn’t acquiesced to her sexual demands. His life was so unfair. “Now come over here,” Emily told him, and he slowly tried to shuffle his pants-clad feet toward her, until he was standing in front of her. “Oh, Emily,” Mrs. Johnson exclaimed. “This is a good time to show you another trick to use with him. It works even when he knows it’s coming.” She had Emily turn her chair to the side so that Doug was on one side of her lap. Doug watched uneasily, not sure of what would happen. “Good. Now notice that because his ankles are essentially tied together by his pants, he has almost no balance. You can grab a wrist and pull, and he’ll topple right into place on your lap.” Suddenly Emily reached up, grabbed Doug’s wrist, and pulled, and even though Doug knew it was coming, he found himself helplessly falling over, until he landed on Emily’s lap, his diapered bottom high in the air, his feet off the ground. “Good girl,” Mrs. Johnson told Emily, who returned a broad smile. “See how easy that is? And once his pants are down, he can’t really do anything about it. Part of a spanking is also showing the child just who is in control, and by easily turning even a big boy like Doug over your knee, you’ve taught him an important lesson about your relationship.” From Doug’s position he couldn’t see Emily’s smile but he knew it was there anyway. “Now just enjoy this feeling for a moment. You have him well-balanced on your lap, and he can’t really touch anything to help him get up. See how helpless he is? Doug, try to stand up.” Doug was more than willing to try. He flailed his legs around, trying to touch the ground, but Emily learned quickly to elevate her knees in response to his efforts, and Doug was shocked and scared to see how correct Mrs. Johnson was. He couldn’t really use his hands because of the odd position. He was totally helpless. The women laughed at his struggle. “This is fun!” exclaimed Emily as she watched Doug squirm. “Yes,” agreed Mrs. Johnson. "I figured you might like this. Now, Doug, settle down so we can get on with this. Emily, the next step is, of course, to pull his diaper down. Just reach around and undo the tapes on either side…that’s right…and just pull back…and voila! That’s what you want to see! I usually tuck the back of the diaper under here in the back so it doesn’t get in the way. Good. “Now we need to talk about the actual spanking. You’re right-handed, so he’s turned the right way, with the head toward the left. With little children it doesn’t matter, but his bottom is angled because he’s so big. The stroke itself should involve your whole arm, right from the shoulder. Bring your hand down from up high: use gravity to help. This is an athletic endeavor, and you need strength and endurance. Luckily, as the pitcher for your softball team, you ought to be well-prepared to give a long, hard spanking, but make sure to pace yourself. Don’t waste all your strength at first. Lasting soreness in the bottom, which I think helps reinforce the lesson long after the spanking is over, is accomplished more by the length of the spanking than by the intensity. The intensity just makes it more fun.” Doug wanted to disappear. It was just too horrible: to have them looking and talking about his bare bottom, and how best to hurt and embarrass him. "You can use various implements, of course: belts, spoons, a hairbrush, but as you know, I favor the open palm. It’s most convenient, since you always have it. I think it’s good for the child to know that you’re always capable of disciplining him; you don’t have to run off and find a big wooden spoon before he’s sorry he did something wrong. The noise it makes is also most satisfying. "Distribution of strokes is another personal style matter. I don’t think it matters, as long as the strokes are hard and the spanking is long. Vary the location, or don’t; either way, you can teach him an effective lesson. Make sure most end up on the lower bottom, near his thighs, where he sits. He’ll remember those most. “Finally, you need to decide when to end your spanking. Often it’s when you get tired, but since you’re such a conditioned athlete, that may not happen before you should stop.” Doug groaned audibly at this. He had to get a pitcher. Just his luck. "Don’t go only by his crying, because smart children try to use that to convince you they’ve learned their lessons when they haven’t. Spank past the cry and well into the uncontrolled wailing stage when they’ve lost composure and have given up. You’ll just have to learn when that is. Today, I’ll try to help you to tell. “Okay, any questions?” Doug had many, but he wasn’t being asked. Why him? he wanted to know. Would he really reach “the wailing stage?” Was she going to spank hard? How long would it last? How would he… SPANK! SPANK! SPANK! Three blows in quick succession. Doug gasped, since he somehow never expected it to be as painful as it was. And suddenly, then, there was a pause, as Mrs. Johnson interrupted. “Good start, but put more of that powerful shoulder of yours into it, and slow down slightly, so that he feels each stroke.” SPANK!! “Owww!” howled Doug uncontrollably. She’d hit him very hard. “There you go!” cheered Mrs. Johnson. “Keep it up. He’ll cry before too long.” SPANK!! SPANK!! SPANK!! The blows came regularly now, and Doug cried out with each one. The pain burned intensely, and he couldn’t do anything to stop it. Out of frustration he flung a hand back to protect himself. “Aha!” he heard Mrs. Johnson cry out, as the spanks stopped temporarily. Then he felt a searing pain in his shoulder and realized that his arm was being twisted violently, up near the back of his neck. He screamed in surprise and pain. “At this point, Emily, you can either threaten him with a longer spanking, or with keeping his arm up like this throughout the entire spanking. It’s obviously quite painful yet easy to do. Try it.” And then Doug felt his arm, weakened and vulnerable in this position, released briefly, and then yanked up even higher behind him. “Owwww!” he yelled in protest. “Wow. That is easy. You’re right. Doug, do you want me to hold your arm like this until your spanking is over?” Doug had begun to whimper. The pain was tremendous. “No,” he whined. He felt the pain worsen as he simultaneously received a smack on his bottom. She could spank him at the same time? Uh-oh… “No, what?” “Ohhhh…No, ma’am,” he moaned. “That’s better. Then keep it away from your bottom, okay?” “Yes, ma’am.” Doug felt his arm released, and he brought it down gingerly. SPANK!! He yelled again in pain. SPANK!! SPANK!! SPANK!! It wasn’t long before Doug’s helplessness, pain, and frustration built up in a noisy cry. He didn’t see Emily glance up at Mrs. Johnson and smile, and he missed Mrs. Johnson smiling back and nodding. “Keep going, sweetie. Don’t be satisfied with these first tears,” she yelled over the noise of the spanks and Doug’s crying. So they kept going. For Doug, the pain only mounted, and soon crying wasn’t enough. He gasped and yelled and cried all at once, his protests indeed turning into a kind of wail. At this point the women again exchanged knowing glances, and Emily happily redoubled her efforts, glad to see results so quickly. After what seemed like hours, when the spanking still showed no signs of letting up, Doug grew tired, and his cries sank into a continuous, sad whimper. Finally Mrs. Johnson nodded to Emily, who gave Doug’s inflamed bottom one more huge swat and then stopped. Doug’s whimpering continued uncontrollably. “Very nice, honey. You can be sure he’ll remember this well. At this point, with a child so big, you may just want to help him roll off your lap onto the floor, where you can rediaper him. He probably lacks the coordination right now to stand.” Emily nodded and extended her legs, letting Doug roll/slide down them onto the floor. He did, however, leave his diaper on her lap, and when Emily looked down at it, she erupted in a joyous squeal. “Look! I did it! I did it!” Mrs. Johnson looked, and sure enough, the diaper was yellow and wet where it had been white and dry before. Doug, still crying softly on the floor, also peered up and saw the wet diaper. He was surprised, as he didn’t at all remember it happening. But he told himself it would have happened to anyone who went through that spanking. Denial is often a powerful tool. “You sure did, Emily,” Mrs. Johnson was nodding her head approvingly. “Excellent job. You’re obviously a natural at this. Of course, you should be,” she said, smiling. “It’s in your genes.” Doug nearly choked. He stopped crying and stared, for the first time seeing the resemblance between them. Could it be? “You’re right about that, Mom,” Emily was saying as she wrapped up Doug’s wet diaper. “Maybe he’ll learn from it just as much as I did when I was little.” Doug blinked back his tears, trying to accept this information. But he found it hard to concentrate on such enlightening news in his exhausted and painful condition. “I don’t know, honey,” Mrs. Johnson laughed. “The situation’s a little different here; you’ll just have to trust me on that. Anyway, where is the diaper he brought with him?” “I guess it’s still in his cart out in the store,” Emily replied. “Why don’t you go get that and bring it back so we can get him dressed?” “Okay.” In a moment she had returned with the diaper, along with some powder and lotion as well. “I thought these might come in handy. They’re from aisle seven.” Mrs. Johnson smiled at Doug, who sat, sniffling, on the floor. The cold cement felt good on his hot, red bottom. “One of the benefits of being a manager.” Doug very weakly smiled back. He watched as the teenager who had first been his babysitter, then his seductress, then his disciplinarian, opened his diaper and spread it on the floor. She looked up at her mother, and said, “What we really need is a changing pad.” Mrs. Johnson nodded. “Yes, you’re right. Maybe our baby boy can remember to bring one next week so his little tushie won’t be so cold. Do you think you can remember that, young man?” “Yes, ma’am,” Doug muttered. He was thinking how dreadful it would be to come back for abuse like this weekly. “For now, though, cement will have to do,” Emily said. “Now bring that little red bottom over here, and let’s get you into this nice diaper.” Not about to object at this point, Doug scooted himself over onto the diaper and laid back against the concrete. “Ooh,” cooed Emily, as she reached out to touch his groin. “What pretty smooth skin the baby has.” Doug looked down and suddenly remembered that he was bare down there. The heat of the spanking had distracted him. He was now terribly embarrassed to have Emily see him like this. Worse than that, however, was that she was reaching out to touch him. He held his breath as she began stroking his hairless crotch, rubbing in some of the baby lotion she’d brought. Despite the embarrassment and the remaining pain, the touch felt very good to Doug. He closed his eyes and enjoyed the feel of her hands on his thighs, on his bottom, on his genitalia. It felt especially good on his hot bottom. She rubbed, or actually, caressed, him thoroughly, and in Doug’s sexually deprived state, it didn’t take much to induce some venous congestion in a particular region, announcing itself quite proudly, despite the pain and embarrassment he felt. Emily squealed again. “Look, Mom, it’s his little pee-pee! I guess you like your babysitter, don’t you?” she teased. Doug was mortified. But, then, it felt so good. So he was torn when Mrs. Johnson said, “Alright, that’s enough massaging there, Emily. It’s not nice to tease the little boy. Let’s just get his diaper on. I’ve got some things to do in my office.” So Emily quickly powdered Doug and pulled his diaper up between his legs, taping him in securely. Then she had him stand, and she pulled up his pants and buckled them, careful to tuck his shirt inside his diaper so that the diaper stuck out visibly above his belt, as it had when he’d arrived at the store. “Just continue his shopping, I guess, Emily, for now. But come see me before you check out.” With that Mrs. Johnson walked out, and Doug and Emily followed, but not before Emily flashed him a smile and whispered, “Hope you enjoyed that as much as I did, little boy. Guess next time I check your diaper you’ll be a little more cooperative.” Doug didn’t say anything. He just rubbed his diapered bottom, hot under the padding and plastic. The shopping proceeded without another incident, though Doug did have to put up with comments from Emily like, “Just think, every time you sit down this week you’ll think of me,” and “By the way, what do you use to get such a nice close shave?” followed by an outburst of giggling. But he knew better than to argue. And without too much fuss, he finished his shopping and stopped with Emily at Mrs. Johnson’s desk on the way to check out. “Oh, good, you’re here,” Mrs. Johnson said when she saw them. “Doug, I talked with your mommy, Mrs. Warren, and she wants you to bring home a slightly different load of groceries than the one you’ve selected. Don’t worry: it won’t take any more time. I’ve already had someone gather the items for you. They’re also already bagged and waiting for you, ready to go. You’ve been through enough already. All you need to do is give us a check for $37.35, and you can get on home.” Doug was, of course, surprised, and more than a little alarmed. What kind of groceries would Mrs. Warren pick out for him? He looked to his right, where Mrs. Johnson had indicated, and there was another cart standing alone, with several full bags in it. He couldn’t see what was in them. He had a feeling that he was being set up for something, but he couldn’t imagine what. At least it wasn’t more expensive than his regular groceries, and he didn’t have to spend any more time shopping. So he got out his checkbook, wrote a check, and handed it over to Mrs. Johnson. She smiled at him, which he was learning wasn’t always good for him. “Oh, just one thing: it’s asparagus you don’t like, right?” Doug nodded slowly at her, trying to figure out how she knew and why she was asking. He hoped it was so that she hadn’t picked out something he wouldn’t like. “Yes, ma’am. It makes me gag.” She smiled again. “Good, then we’re fine. Take care this week, Doug, and we’ll see you next Sunday.” “Yeah,” Emily chimed in. “I’ll see you next Sunday,” she said with a meaningful glance. Uh-oh, he thought. I don’t want to go through this again. He’d have to figure out something to say or do before then. For now, though, he just nodded and left, pushing his new cart of groceries out to the car. The plastic grocery bags were tied up, so he still couldn’t see inside. He tried to open one as he put them in his trunk, but the knots were too tight. He’d need to cut them open to see what they were. One thing was certain, however: they were very heavy. Doug climbed into his car, and his bottom protested intensely as he sat down. Damn, he thought. I hate spankings. Chapter 11 He pulled into his apartment complex and was disturbed to see Mrs. Warren’s van there. He cautiously opened the door to his apartment, and heard Mrs. Warren upstairs. This seemed like a good sign, since she wasn’t so angry that she was waiting at the door to give him another spanking. He knew she knew about his spanking at the store, and would be angry, but if she wasn’t going to spank him, he could probably tolerate it. Still, he wanted to avoid facing her, so he brought in the rest of the groceries, setting them on the counter in the kitchen. He was about to cut one of the bags open when he heard Mrs. Warren behind him. “I heard someone was a bad little boy at the grocery store today,” she commented. “Yes, Mommy,” Doug said meekly. He wanted to appear contrite and not in need of another spanking. He wanted to tell her he’d been good, but had a hunch it would get him into more trouble than just admitting wrong-doing. “Then what happened?” Mrs. Warren asked him, mostly to embarrass him, since she already knew. Doug looked down, ashamed to say it, even if she already knew. “I got a spanking, Mommy,” he murmured. “That’s what I heard,” she agreed. “It seems like someone forgot who he was for a little while. You forgot who was the little baby and who was the babysitter in charge of you. Is that what happened?” No, he wanted to say. But just to get past this embarrassing scene, he said, “Yes, Mommy.” She smiled at his passive acceptance of her interpretation. He was making this easy. “Well, maybe we need a little reminder of what a little baby we are. Luckily for you, I happen to have just the thing to help.” Doug looked up at her suspiciously. He hoped this wasn’t going where he thought it was going. “Come on upstairs, and I’ll show you.” She led him to his room, where several pairs of footed pajamas were displayed on his bed. They were all fuzzy, with babyish-looking bear imprints on the chests. Worst of all they were all an infantile pastel pink color. Mrs. Warren watched him as he stood, mouth open, gaping with shock and disappointment at his new sleepwear. “All yours,” she said pleasantly, "for a nice wholesale price. I’m sure you’ll be happy to pay it, since they can replace whatever else you were wearing to bed. And I know you’ll appreciate how they’ll help you remember your ICP role better. "They’re warm and comfy, with snaps down the front, in the crotch, and down the legs so you can change yourself easily. You wear one every night and for naps. And I will check on you to make sure you’re being a good baby. “Now come back downstairs and see what else you can do to help.” He walked downstairs with her, a bit numb from the shock of those pink sleepers, but also a bit worried about what he might find down here. “Of course,” she continued, “I would have thought diapers would have been enough, but if a client needs help, I can certainly provide it.” They walked into the kitchen. Mrs. Warren opened the cupboard. Doug was shocked to see his entire cupboard of glasses filled only with baby bottles and nipples. Mrs. Warren smiled and pulled open a drawer under the counter, exposing a stack of pink and yellow bibs. “And just to drill it into your thick little head,” she said, grabbing a pair of scissors, “you’re going to eat like a baby, too.” She cut open one of Doug’s grocery bags, showing Doug the case of Gerber’s baby food inside. Doug gasped. She opened another bag, showing him another case of the same. “This, and only this, is what you will eat for the next seven days. You must finish it all, and you may not have more. So plan carefully, and make it last. And yes, you will be punished if there are any problems with this. That is your food.” And here she cut open the last bag, exposing a case of dry baby formula. "And this is the only thing you are allowed to drink,” she continued. “There is plenty here, and you are welcome to drink as much or as little as you like of this. But you may not have anything else to drink, not even water.” Doug continued to stare, open-mouthed. What did THAT stuff taste like?! “By the way, I’d advise you to mix it with this Metamucil if you’re having trouble meeting your messy diaper quota. I doubt there’s much fiber in here. Obviously, you must wear a bib for all meals, and drink your formula from these bottles. I’ve checked your refrigerator, so I know what’s there. I’ll check again at the end of the week,” she finished. “Any questions?” Doug wanted to cry. But he didn’t want to object. In a way he knew he should still be grateful he wasn’t getting a spanking. To her, he whispered, “No, Mommy.” “Good. Call me before dinner, and I’ll come check on you. Have a nice afternoon.” Doug was left alone to stare at his punishment. He was not happy about this: could he even tolerate eating the baby food, let alone the formula? Maybe it depended on what flavors he had. He suddenly got a bad feeling, remembering Mrs. Johnson’s strange question at the store. He peeked in the bag. There was an assortment, but at least a quarter of the baby food was strained asparagus. That was just too much. Doug sat down on the kitchen floor and cried. How could they be so mean to him? What had he ever done to deserve it? This punishment, like his earlier spanking, was especially frustrating because it came after he had tried to be a good boy, much as he hated it. It seemed like he couldn’t win. And forcing him to eat asparagus, which he really did gag on, simply seemed cruel. But what could he do about it? It always came down to that. And the answer today, he knew, must be the same as any other day: nothing. He had to obey. He’d come pretty far in this program, farther than he thought he could come, and if he could just hold on a few more months, it would all be over. Before dinner he dutifully called Mrs. Warren, who arrived in time to help him with his first baby meal. He chose a yellow bib with a bunny on the front, the most innocuous of the choices, and tied it around his neck awkwardly. He sat down with three jars of baby food, which Mrs. Warren had “kindly” helped him to pick out, telling him he should choose a meat, a vegetable, and a fruit. He stared at the labels she chose: liver, asparagus, and bananas. Next to these was a bottle of warm formula. He opened the jars and smelled the first, liver. It smelled putrid. It couldn’t be edible. But Mrs. Warren was watching with a big smile on her face, so he pinched his nose and gulped down a bite. It still tasted horrible, even without the smell. But he grimaced and kept going. By the end of the first jar, tears ran down his face. He interrupted each bite with a suck from his bottle, which, although not appealing, was nonetheless better than the baby food. Mrs. Warren cheered him along the way, adding to Doug’s humiliation by snapping several pictures of him in this new degradation. Doug knew that these would be added to the others, and used if he ever decided to rebel. He fought his way through the asparagus, gagging several times when he accidently caught a whiff of what he tried to force down his own throat. Finally, with some trepidation, he tried the banana. That turned out to be pretty good, relatively speaking, he thought. The consistency could have been better, but it was otherwise palatable. He finished his meal meekly, received congratulations from his “mommy,” and retired to watch TV after she left. He was still hungry, so he brought in his bottle and sucked on it until he got sleepy and wet. He changed his diaper, and put on one of his new pink sleepers. He wasn’t surprised to find that they fit perfectly, and though the thought of how Mrs. Warren had gotten his measurements passed fleetingly through his mind, he ignored it. Her ability to know and control every aspect of his life did not amaze him any more. Before going to sleep for the night, he stared at himself in the bedroom mirror. He couldn’t really believe what he saw. Before him, where two months ago had stood a grown man, now stood what looked like a little toddler. Today he’d been spanked and diapered by a stranger, had eaten baby food, worn a bib, drunk formula from a bottle, and was now staring at himself dressed in a fuzzy pink sleeper, the bulge of his diaper clearly visible in his groin and his bottom. He shook his head. What else could possibly happen to him? And could he manage to make it through this week? He could, as it turned out. But the days dragged on forever, it seemed. He ate lunch at home every day, since he couldn’t possibly wear a bib or drink from a bottle at work. Every meal was an ordeal which repeatedly reminded him never to question the women around him who wanted to humiliate him. This week essentially taught him that pride had become expendable to him. He’d much rather eat palatable food than to raise any more objections. His planned orgasm this week was even more wonderful than last week, because in addition to the physical sensations he experienced, the event also was coming to symbolize a measure of sweet defiance for him, however brief or insignificant. It was now the only aspect of his life over which he exerted even a minimal amount of control. He enjoyed getting away with such a big infraction in the face of the all-powerful Mrs. Warren. And once again, the plan was executed flawlessly. The following Sunday Mrs. Warren asked him if he’d learned his lesson. “Yes, Mommy.” “Good boy. You can go back to eating grown-up food and using grown-up glasses for now. But I think we’ll keep wearing the bib for all meals at home and your cute little PJs for bed, just as a continuing reminder. Maybe then you won’t get into trouble again. “And in the future, if you do have any other memory problems, we might add the food or bottles back for a little while, or permanently. So be good. Oh, and I think we’ll have to keep you on probation for a while now. You’re obviously not disciplined enough yet to be trusted.” Doug was both disappointed and relieved. Thank goodness the food and bottles were out of his life, but he hadn’t wanted to continue with the bibs or the sleepers either. But he just nodded his head. “Okay, Mommy.” “Good boy. And good luck this afternoon at the store. Please try to be a good boy.” Doug took a deep breath. What would happen today, and what should he do about Emily? Doug saw a smile spread across Emily’s face as she walked over to meet him at the customer service desk. He wondered what she had in mind for today. It didn’t matter. He’d long since decided that he wouldn’t protest a thing she did today. He’d tried being good, and the outcome had been disappointing enough as to dissuade him from attempting that again. He hadn’t even wanted to be good in the first place, for goodness sake. So today, he’d go with the flow, and just enjoy it. The result had to be better than last week. “Hi, Doug!” she said. “I hope you’re in a more…cooperative mood today.” She wore the confident expression of a young woman who knew that she could get whatever she wanted. She was about to say something else, but Mrs. Johnson caught sight of Doug and interrupted. “Well, hello, little Doug. Are you going to be a good boy today?” “Yes, ma’am,” Doug said sincerely. “Good. Did you remember a changing pad this week, just in case?” “Yes, ma’am,” Doug answered, holding forward his lovely pink diaper bag, out of which peeked a vinyl changing pad. He’d given up and just decided to bring the whole bag. It wasn’t any more embarrassing than carrying around a clean diaper. “Excellent. That should be more comfortable for you than the cold cement. And what a pretty bag for a little boy,” she cooed, and Doug felt himself turning red. “Alright, you two can get to shopping. Just check in before you leave. Emily, let me know if you need the stockroom key again.” “Okay, Mom,” Emily said. She and Doug, as usual, headed toward the produce section. “Mom told me about your special groceries last week,” she said with a smirk. “Were they good?” Doug shook his head. “No,” he said with a definite air of resentment. It was mostly her fault. “No, what?” Emily prompted with a smile. She loved this. Doug stared at her for a second, confused. Then he understood. “No, ma’am,” he mumbled gruffly. She didn’t deserve the full treatment. Emily, however, believed that she did. She grabbed his arm. “Hey. You be respectful to me, young man. I’m just dying to get more practice in that back room. Now answer my question again.” Doug turned toward his pretty, young, and tormenting babysitter. He was embarrassed to have to obey her every whim, but he was trapped and he knew it. “No, ma’am, I didn’t enjoy my food this week.” He paused, then decided to confront her. “Why’d you do that to me, anyway?” She snorted. “You shouldn’t question me. I’m the babysitter, and that’s my job. Sometimes babies need spankings.” “I’m not a baby,” he objected, though he could have guessed her response even before she said it. “Oh, no,” she replied sarcastically. “You just wet your pants, wear diapers, eat baby food, and have a babysitter. But you’re not a baby. What would you call yourself?” Doug shook his head, and turned to continue shopping. She was right. He couldn’t explain his situation rationally. He didn’t know what he’d call it, anyway, other than absurd. “That’s what I thought,” she said. A silent moment was followed by a chuckle. “Did you like the asparagus?” Doug scowled at her. “No, ma’am.” “Then maybe you’ll be a good boy and do what I tell you today.” Her expression lightened. “And, hey, don’t worry. It’ll be fun!” That was likely to be true, Doug admitted to himself. He started to get nervous as they approached the back hallway. “Well,” she said. “Let’s go check you out!” She reached out a hand for Doug, who rather reluctantly took it and followed. He tried to take deep breaths and relax, but he was already extremely anxious, and could feel a raging erection form within his diaper. They went to the hallway, where Doug obediently pulled down his pants, as he had in previous weeks. Emily knelt before him to begin her “examination.” She closed her eyes and started stroking the front of his diaper, this time dispensing with the charade of “checking” the back of his diaper. He could barely feel her touch through the thick disposable material, but what he could feel excited him even more. It built and built as she continued stroking him through the plastic and padding. He was breathing heavily and was almost near climax by the time Emily said, “Oh, I definitely need to look inside today. Any objections?” She looked up at him with a coy, questioning glance. “No, ma’am,” Doug said quietly. He stared ahead, back toward where the hallway led to the rest of the store. Because they were beyond a turn in the hall, he couldn’t see the store from where they were, but he wondered what would happen if somebody walked in on them. Employees had to come back here, Doug thought. But Emily did not seem to be concerned, and perhaps she knew the store better than he. Doug, at any rate, could hardly do anything about it. He, too, closed his eyes so he wouldn’t think about it. Emily carefully pulled one tape loose, then the other, then slowly lowered the front of Doug’s diaper to reveal his hairless groin and genitalia. His erection, freed from its confines, sprung up energetically and surprised Emily. “Oh!” she exclaimed, then started laughing. “Oh, so that’s how you feel! I can’t believe you put up such a fuss last week.” She giggled. “But it actually doesn’t matter, you know. I’m the babysitter, and we’ll do whatever I want to do.” Doug opened his eyes briefly and nearly fainted when he saw Emily actually lick her lips. “And what I want to do…is see what happens when I do this…” With that she reached out with one hand and stroked Doug’s penis. He closed his eyes again. It felt so good to be touched. He moaned quietly; it had been so long. Emily giggled softly as she heard it. “See? I told you it’d be fun. You just have to be a good little baby and do whatever I say…” “I don’t think that’s such a good idea,” a stern voice boomed from behind Emily. Doug snapped open his eyes to see an angry Mrs. Johnson towering over the kneeling Emily, who shrieked and lost her balance, falling backward onto the floor at her mother’s feet. “I…I…I…was just…um…well, I…” Emily stuttered. Doug awkwardly covered himself with his diaper, retaping it as best he could over a rapidly disappearing erection. Oh, boy, he thought. This was going to be bad. What would happen to him now? How could he ever explain this? He took a deep breath. Two Sundays in a row… “I can see what you were just doing, young lady. And last time I checked that was not on the list of babysitting duties!” Doug let out his breath slowly. Wait a minute, he thought. She seemed to be pissed off at Emily. That was strange. Emily, too, realized where the anger seemed to be directed, and her eyes widened in fear. “It wasn’t me, Mom, I swear. He wanted to do it. He made me! He’s a horrible little baby!” she said. Doug’s heart sank at this: of course he would get blamed. It didn’t matter who was at fault, because he would never be believed. He had no credibility. “Really, Emily. Doug, whom you were babysitting, made you, his babysitter, do that? Emily, don’t embarrass yourself. I heard the whole thing. I know exactly what you were doing.” As that information sank in, Doug saw Emily’s face drain of all color. Fear grew in her eyes. It began to dawn on Doug that Emily’s ploy to blame him had not worked, and that she was still on the hot seat. Could he be spared today? He wanted to clarify this, to ask whether he was in trouble, too, but one look at Mrs. Johnson’s fearsome expression convinced him to lie low. She was fuming, her eyes ablaze. “Let me tell you something, young lady. Being in charge of a baby, even this kind of baby, is a huge responsibility. Because in this relationship his judgment counts for nothing, and yours counts for everything. You have to think for both of you, and he is forced to trust that you’ll do what’s right.” Mrs. Johnson was only getting more angry as she went along. “Sometimes that might mean a spanking for him. But it never means sex with him, do you understand? Never. Emily Johnson, breaking a child’s trust is the worst thing you could ever possibly do. And by taking advantage of his helplessness, that’s exactly what you have done.” Mrs. Johnson was pacing now, worked up into a frightful rage. Emily was watching, and was clearly scared to death. “I’m sorry, Mommy,” she said in a small voice that struck Doug as being very different from her normal tone. Now she sounded like a child. “Well, that’s great, Emily. That helps him a lot now,” Mrs. Johnson said sarcastically. “I was trying to use Doug last week in a way that would benefit Doug and be fun for us as well. But that form of teaching doesn’t seem to sink in very well for you, does it? I guess you’re not mature enough to appreciate it, are you?” She stopped pacing and stared at Emily. “No, ma’am,” Emily said quietly. She’d already guessed how this would end, having experienced this type of situation many times throughout her childhood. Doug, however, had no idea where this was headed. He did recognize Emily’s attempt to express regret and obedience in the face of a mother’s wrath, since he tried that same tact with Mrs. Warren. He watched the proceedings nervously, still unsure of his own fate. “I guess we’ll have to go back to our old way of teaching you, won’t we? It sure worked for all those years. I don’t know why I ever abandoned it. I don’t care if your dates knew that’s why you had to be home on time; it was still damned effective. It’s the only thing that ever worked for you, isn’t it?” “Yes, ma’am.” Emily hung her head. Doug’s curiosity grew. Could they be talking about what he thought they were talking about? He’d wondered about this mother-daughter relationship before. Some of their comments seemed to have suggested Emily having been spanked in the past, but he’d assumed it had been ancient history, the normal and uncommon early childhood punishment. This exchange implied more, much more, as if spanking were a regular part of Emily’s teenage years as well. No wonder Emily was so interested in it today. But he’d have time to think about that later. Right now, Mrs. Johnson was pulling out her keys. She found the one she was looking for, and crisply opened the stockroom door behind them. With a backward glance, she said, “Come on, you two.” Doug’s heart pounded. Both of them? Was he, despite his clear innocence, going to receive a spanking today as well? He watched Emily get up and trudge into the darkness of the room beyond. Doug followed her, shuffling towards the door, his pants still down around his ankles. He dared not pull them up until he was told. But Mrs. Johnson stopped him before he went in. “You can pull up your pants, Doug. You’re just a victim today, not a criminal, so you won’t be punished. But I would like you to see that even big kids get spanked if they need it, so I want you to watch.” Something small changed inside Doug at that moment. Up until now, everything he had experienced had been directed, somewhat maliciously, at him. If there was a dispute, he was wrong. If anyone was angry, it was at him. It had seemed that the whole world existed simply to humiliate and punish him. He had been alone. And up until three minutes ago, today seemed to continue in that mold, placing him in a no-win situation where anything he did was punishable. But things had suddenly changed. He wasn’t being spanked unjustly! He felt nearly gleeful as he pulled up and rebuckled his pants over his diaper. But almost immediately, his heart went out to Emily, for he knew the fear and unhappiness that she was feeling at this moment. As much as he resented her abuse of him, he wouldn’t wish his experiences on anyone. He would even have tried to help her, but he knew that he was powerless to do so. Pleading for mercy for Emily would probably lead to a spanking for him as well, and that wouldn’t make anybody’s day better. Mrs. Johnson waited patiently for him to finish getting dressed, watching as he carefully adjusted his diaper so that it would be visible to other shoppers when they returned to the store. She followed him into the stockroom, flipping on the lights and letting the door close behind her. She strode purposefully to the chair by the wall, the same chair that Emily had sat in one week ago, and pulled it out from the wall before stiffly seating herself in it. Emily lingered several feet away, eyes downcast, sniffling quietly. Doug stared at her, noticing that she, like him, wore jeans, and wondering if, like him, she would have to pull them down. Against his will, an erection began forming at this thought. “Let’s go, young lady. You should know the drill,” Mrs. Johnson said sharply to her daughter. “Get those jeans down.” Doug stood transfixed at the image of his tormentor unbuttoning and lowering her pants to her ankles. She turned away from him, and an occasional shy glance toward Doug indicated her embarrassment about this situation. Doug saw her adjust her pink flowered underpants self-consciously. Mrs. Johnson saw this, too. “Being embarrassed should be the least of your worries, little girl. He’s just a baby, remember? He doesn’t care how you look. And anyway, as interested as you were in seeing him, don’t you think he’s earned reciprocity? Pull those underpants down immediately.” “But Mom…” Emily whined.“But, nothing!” Mrs. Johnson exclaimed, rising in a surprisingly fluid motion, reaching over and grabbing Emily’s elbow, swinging her around and swatting her forcefully on her bottom through her panties. “Don’t try any backtalk today, little girl. I’m not in the mood.” “Yes, ma’am,” Emily said, her voice trembling from embarrassment, pain, and probably some angry frustration. She was too old to be treated like this. After another shy glance toward Doug she slipped her fingers inside her waistband and eased her panties down her legs. Doug again stared, and he couldn’t help but admire her athletic buttocks and legs. It was a great view of what was soon to be a very red and sore rear end. Emily stood awkwardly, no doubt feeling Doug’s eyes sweeping her body. “Come on over,” Mrs. Johnson told her, and Emily, after only a brief pause, slowly shuffled to just outside of an arm’s length of her mother, naturally wary of coming any closer. But Mrs. Johnson’s eyes narrowed at her, and Emily forced her legs to edge forward just a bit… An arm shot up, grabbing one of Emily’s wrists and pulling her forcefully over Mrs. Johnson’s lap. Emily screamed and flailed but could do nothing to prevent herself from landing smack dab across her mother's thighs, right where Mrs. Johnson wanted her. “Told you it worked,” Mrs. Johnson commented wryly. And true to form, Mrs. Johnson next sharply demanded, “Do you know why you need this spanking, little girl?” Her right hand was poised above Emily’s vulnerable and tender bottom. “Yes, ma’am,” Emily called out in a trembling voice. “Go ahead.” “…Because I was bad. I was playing with the baby’s little thing, and that’s wrong.” “You’d better believe it. And this ought to show you just how wrong it was.” And Mrs. Johnson let her hand drop, releasing a mighty blow to Emily’s bottom. Doug flinched out of habit, and Emily cried out. Doug could see the fear on her face as she awaited the next spank. It came several seconds later, and the others were also well spaced out, in order to let the sting of each sink in before the next, Doug assumed. He watched grimly as the tempo of the paddling increased. Unconsciously his hands found his own (well-padded) bottom and rubbed it repeatedly. Relief that it wasn’t him again flooded through him, as well as some inexplicable guilt (it certainly wasn’t his fault) and more understandable pity. This wasn’t as difficult as having a spanking himself, but watching wasn’t turning out to be any fun either. As he watched, he could tell as Emily entered all the stages he had experienced the week before: first simple crying, then screaming, then wailing, and finally a hopeless, defeated whimper of exhaustion that convinced Mrs. Johnson to ease and finally to stop the furious onslaught. Emily, like Doug before her, was dumped on the floor and spent a moment crying before she became alert enough to pull up her panties and jeans. Unlike Doug, Emily had not had an accident during her spanking, despite what had to have been an equally traumatic experience. Doug wouldn’t think about this until several months later. Mrs. Johnson stood and brushed herself off, replaced her chair by the wall, and approached Doug. He was understandably somewhat scared of her right now, despite her earlier reassurances, and couldn’t help backing away from her, but Mrs. Johnson knelt down and beckoned him forward, as with a shy child. Doug was surprised to see her face filled with tenderness. “By the way, did something like what happened today out in the hall also happen last week?” she asked him gently. Doug stared at the floor and nodded silently. “And that’s what you were trying to tell me last week?” He stared at Emily, standing now and rubbing the seat of her pants and still sniffling. “Yes, ma’am,” he said quietly. “Well, I’m sorry I didn’t listen,” Mrs. Johnson replied sincerely. “I don’t think it will happen again.” Doug nodded silently at this promise, inferring from the way it was said that Emily would no longer be his babysitter. This was comforting in a way, but strangely, Doug wasn’t entirely pleased by this. And indeed, the homely girl was called to finish escorting him around the store. As Doug retrieved his cart, he caught sight of Mrs. Johnson leading Emily out of the store, and he correctly concluded that that was the last he’d see of Emily, at least in the foreseeable future. The grocery store would become a less threatening, but also, he had to admit, a less exciting place to shop from now on. That night Doug had trouble sleeping. The day’s events seemed to replay themselves continuously in his head. The whole experience had left him feeling disturbed and unhappy, but it took him a lot of thinking to figure out why. He knew it had to do with the whole Johnson attitude about spankings and the way Mrs. Johnson treated her daughter. Considering how many times Emily must have been beaten by her mother as she grew up, Doug suspected that he couldn’t really comprehend the many ways she’d been affected by such continuous violence. Perhaps it was only natural that Emily should at times obsess about spankings. He decided he wouldn’t try to judge her, as he’d been tempted to do before. But there were still so many unanswered questions. For instance, why was she turned on by it? How had she sexualized her painful experiences? At times, such as last week, she seemed downright sadistic. Is that what excessive spanking does to a kid? Doug wondered. He could easily imagine Mrs. Johnson being abusive, despite her facade of “caring” about a child’s well-being. Was this an example of passing down abusive behavior from one generation to the next? How would Emily treat her children? And how would she have treated him? What had she been looking for with him? A playmate for S&M games? A baby to abuse? Someone with whom to share the pain of her upbringing? They had already shared many strange experiences; what might they have shared if things had happened differently? It was sad, really: it had only been today that Doug had realized what similar situations they were in, and suddenly, before he could explore the possibilities or answer any of the questions, Emily was snatched away. He didn’t know where she lived or went to school, how old she was, or how she felt about any of this, including him. She didn’t know anything about him, either. Their only link was through Mrs. Johnson, who obviously wasn’t going to help get them together. So Doug doubted that he’d ever find answers to his questions, or even see Emily again. What a rare opportunity she had been. How sad to have lost her. Chapter 12 After he’d been in diapers for two months, Doug hardly noticed them anymore, and, in fact, was mostly unaware of using them as well. They were so thick and absorbent that he couldn’t feel when he was wet; instead he had to look at the indicator stripe. Because this would have been awkward at work, he had begun changing himself with such regularity as to avoid the possibility of leaking. This method also had the effect of making how much and when he actually wet his diaper nearly irrelevant. And this eventually led to Doug’s paying less and less attention to the event, so that soon he didn’t even notice when he did it. BMs, on the other hand, were different. He usually felt them coming, and sometimes stood up or squatted to facilitate their passage. And though he hardly noticed that neither wetting nor messing required his attention anymore, this would have been fine with him. In his view, as long as he had to wear diapers, he might as well enjoy the freedom they gave him. Since control of his bladder and bowels didn’t help him at all right now and would now simply be a nuisance, he never even tried any more. It’s interesting that Doug never considered the implications of this; if he ever noticed that he wasn’t controlling himself these days, it didn’t bother him. He assumed it was like riding a bike, in that if it ever mattered again, he could do it on command. And currently, there were no such demands. Besides, the time for worrying about such things was still months ahead. The last two weeks, since he’d last seen Emily, had been pretty easy, if a little boring. But in this situation, where excitement usually meant punishment, he’d gladly take boring. He’d had no trouble with Mrs. Warren, uneventful grocery shopping trips, and an easy time at work. He’d been a good boy, of course, (except for his weekly indiscretion of sexual release) so the lack of punishment should have been no surprise. But with someone as strict as Mrs. Warren, he could never tell. He certainly hadn’t seen that bowel encouragement thing coming either. Being a good boy now meant wearing his new pink sleepers nightly, and although this was, of course, grating to him, if that was all it took to make Mrs. Warren happy, then so be it. It was a small price to pay. As luck would have it, however, Doug’s life was just about to get much less pleasant today. He came home from the lab this afternoon a little later than usual, and was mildly alarmed to see Mrs. Warren’s diaper van parked outside. Knowing that he’d done nothing out of the ordinary wrong, he curiously entered his apartment to find her seated at the dining room table, reading a magazine. “Hi,” he said, putting his diaper bag down on a table. “You’re late,” she commented cheerlessly. “Yeah, missed my bus,” he said, sensing something was wrong. “What’s, um, going on?” “We need to talk,” she said, putting her magazine away. “Okay,” he said cautiously, sitting down on the sofa nearest the dining area. “No,” she said, patting her lap crisply. “I need you over my knee for this talk.” Doug’s heart pounded. He was suddenly tense. “Why?” he asked. “Come on over first,” she said. “Then we’ll talk.” He looked down and shook his head in frustration. What had he done wrong this time? “But why?” She glared at him. “I want you OVER MY KNEE. Now. OR ELSE.” He half snorted. “What could be worse than this?” “You don’t want to know. NOW.” Doug’s eyes teared up slightly as he stood up and slowly waddled over. He stared at the floor, mad and confused. Things had been going so well. When he stood in front of her, she said, “Pants down first.” Slowly he undid his belt and pants and dropped them to the floor, leaving him with just his diaper, which happened to be half-wet. “Your diaper clean?” she asked, turning her chair away from the table to face him. He looked. “A little wet,” he murmured in reply, resigned now to his fate. But why? he wondered. “That’s okay,” she said, and lifted her arms so he could lay on her lap, which he did gingerly. She lifted him off the floor with her knees, rendering him helpless, and told him to grab the chair legs to keep his hands out of the way. “Now,” she said. “We can talk. Tell me about the toilet paper.” “What?” Doug asked, hoping to God she didn’t mean what he thought she meant. An answer to his question came in the form of his tapes being undone and the rear of his diaper being pulled down to reveal his damp, powdered buttocks. SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! He gasped with each spank, trying not to cry already. “I said, tell me about the toilet paper. Where did you get it? How’d you get it home?” He realized that he had, in fact, been nailed. Somehow she knew, and she had him in the perfect position to extract whatever information she wanted. He could see himself getting into even worse trouble if he tried to stall or lie. He knew he didn’t have much of a choice: anything was better than a spanking. So he caved in. Damage control. “I…I got it from work. I snuck it home in my shoes,” he sniffed. “In your shoes?” He hated to give this away. “In my toes. I was going to tell you it was so my shoes would fit.” “Aren’t you smart. And where did you hide them here at home, until you used them?” He paused. If he’d been given any time at all to prepare for this inquisition, he could have made something up to protect his precious system. But he couldn’t make stuff up while he lay, so vulnerably, in this position. Another spank fell on his bottom before he nearly yelled, “In the bottom of a cereal box.” The spanks ceased. Telling the truth may be bad in the long run, he thought, but it’s certainly better in the short-term. “And what, young man, did you use the toilet paper for? Don’t lie to me…” Mrs. Warren warned, rubbing his already-red buttocks with her hand. “For…for, um, you know,” he whined. “I couldn’t help it. I had to. It’s too hard not to.” He started crying softly. His life sucked. “I know,” she said, soothingly continuing to rub his bottom. It felt nice. “It’s hard, isn’t it? But say the words. What did you do?” “I…played with myself,” he confessed, once again humiliated by her. When she didn’t say anything, he kept going. Might as well. “Then…I stuffed the toilet paper into an old Coke can and put it in the trash so you wouldn’t find it.” He stopped crying, waiting to see what she’d say. She didn’t seem mad. She wasn’t mad, in fact; she was, rather, feeling triumphant. She’d known for quite a while that Doug had to be engaging in some sort of illicit masturbatory behavior, but it had taken more than two weeks to find the evidence. She’d seen lots of intricate plans, from every single one of her babies, so she’d known he’d have one and that it was her job to find it. The discovery of the Coke can had been the result of long, hard work on the part of herself and her several inspectors. It was a tedious, dirty process, but critical to the long-term success of her programs. Her boys had to be kept sexually frustrated so that they’d break the rules and need to be punished. Otherwise they could come close to “graduating.” Her babies could be as good as they wanted, but none could abstain totally from sexual gratification, not when they were taped into the object of their desire. But she still didn’t know the rest of the plan, or the details of how many times Doug had gotten away with this. Luckily, that didn’t matter. She’d bluff. “But I did find it, didn’t I?” she asked him, as if he were a toddler. “I always know, Doug, always.” He was beginning to believe her. He couldn’t get away with anything. She was too smart. He’d never try anything again. Ever. “Now tell me, young man, how many times you touched yourself and ejaculated. I already know, because I counted. But I want to see if I need to punish you for lying to me as well.” Doug was trapped. He had no way of knowing what she knew and what she didn’t know. But if history were any guide, then she probably knew. And while she didn’t seem mad now, he bet that if he lied to her and she knew, she’d be very angry. Then he’d get a spanking for sure. So he told the truth. “Four times,” he said, after counting. “But that’s all. And really, I just couldn’t help it!” “I know, I know,” she cooed to him, watching him squirm on her lap. “That’s a good little boy for telling Mommy. And don’t worry. We’ll help you with that little problem. But first tell me: were you a good boy or a naughty boy for touching yourself there?” Doug stared at the floor. She was heading toward something. He’d been in this ICP long enough to know that. But where? He had to play her little degrading game before he found out. He hated it. “Naughty, Mommy.” She kept rubbing his bottom tenderly. “Yes,” she agreed. “Only big boys who don’t have accidents and who wear big boy underpants get to touch themselves like that. You’re just a little baby who wears diapers. You’re only allowed to use your pee-pee for making Number One. You’re not allowed to touch it for any other reason. That’s right, isn’t it?” “Yes, Mommy,” Doug conceded. “And what happens to naughty boys?” “They get punished,” he said, knowing that was what he had to say. “Right,” she said. "In fact, you clearly need a spanking. “And we’ll give you that spanking in just a minute. But first, you need to make a choice about what kind of punishment you’ll get after that. I’ve found that if you help decide how you’ll be punished, you learn better from it afterward. So pay attention while I give you your choices.” Doug groaned inwardly. "Since you were naughty four different times, we’ll use a “four” theme in your punishment. You have a choice of getting one spanking a day for four days, or of wearing a chastity device for four weeks. The first choice will ideally make you question whether the few seconds of pleasure you had was worth the many days of pain you’ll experience. You know that you can feel the effects from one of my spankings for several days. Just imagine what it must feel like to get one every day for most of a week. It’s designed to make you think about what you’ve done for a long time.” That sounded horrible to Doug. “The second option is the more responsible one, in my opinion. It attacks the problem at its root and prevents it from happening again. So, you get to decide now. Four days, or four weeks?” Doug was silent. Upside down on Mrs. Warren’s lap, he was extremely tempted to choose anything that didn’t involve spankings. He’d already learned to avoid those at all cost. Yet the idea of spending four weeks without an opportunity to release some of the sexual excitement caused by diapers and his relative celibacy was inhumane. He’d die, he knew. At least with the spankings he’d get the whole thing over with and could figure out a new plan. With any luck he could be “active” again inside the week. “Work on his problem.” Hah! His only problem was her. So as much as he hated to walk right into getting a spanking (or four!) he knew he couldn’t face up to the other choice. “I think I’ll go with the spankings,” he told the floor at which he was staring. Mrs. Warren had continued to rub his bottom, but now she suddenly stopped. “Doug, I’m disappointed in you,” Mrs. Warren said coldly. “That choice was a test to see if you were mature enough to take your sick little problem seriously. I offered you an easy way, without punishment after today, of getting a jump on addressing your problem, but rather than confront your dirty habit, you decided to choose unbearable pain. Do you know how pathetic that is?” She snorted derisively. “Well, if you want pain, I’ll give you all the pain you can handle, and probably more. You’ll get all those spankings. But if you won’t face your problem, then as your Mommy it’s my responsibility to help you face it, whether you want to or not. So in addition to your precious spankings, you’ll wear the chastity device for a month anyway.” Doug gasped. That was inhuman. Given the choice of two horrible punishments, he’d chosen, only to be given both. It was too much. He screamed and kicked, trying to push himself off her knees. “Nooooo!” he yelled. She somehow elevated her knees so he couldn’t manage to touch anything, and gave his rear end a dozen hard swats with her strong, bare hand. He was soon reduced to tears. “You’ve now earned yourself six full weeks in the chastity device. Care to go for two months? Three months? There’s no limit. Or perhaps you’d like a week’s worth of spankings. That can easily be arranged as well. Would you like to shoot for that? Or are you grateful with the punishment you’ve been given?” He was crying hard now, from the pain, from the realization of how horrible his life would be for the next months, and from the utter futility of his situation. He was so completely powerless. “Are you?” she was demanding. “Are you happy with your punishment?” “Yes,” he choked. “Yes, Mommy. Please.” “Good boy. Okay, we’ll keep it at that for now. But that could change, depending on your behavior, especially if I think you’re not grateful for my help in this matter. Tomorrow we’ll start with the first of your four spankings, and in a minute I’ll help you into your chastity device, but first I promised you a spanking today. And I hate to disappoint.” At this Doug cried harder than ever, even before she began striking his bottom. He’d forgotten about this spanking during the talk about the other punishments. He was pretty much in pieces during the whole thing. She interspersed her blows with questions like whether touching himself had been worth it, and if he still wanted to touch himself now. But he hardly heard her. He was bawling insensibly when she finished and dumped him on the floor with his half-wet diaper still between his legs. He just sat on the floor, crying and rubbing one cheek at a time while Mrs. Warren wasn’t watching. She was rummaging through her purse for something. He almost wasn’t aware of what was happening when she came to him and gently pushed him to the floor on his back. He didn’t care. He just laid back obediently and kept crying. She took what she had brought with her and unlocked something. She made him spread his legs, and she smoothed out his diaper underneath him. The device was a short, curved sheath, shaped like a cylinder with both ends open, but tapered sharply at the far end. She easily slid it over Doug’s flaccid penis, and tightened a small screw near the base so that it fit snugly, then secured it with a small but sturdy lock. She then took two other straps and ran them around his thighs, securing them also to the base of the sheath with another lock. Finally, one last strap ran around his waist and secured the sheath from above. Thus, the sheath was fastened to his genitalia and could not be removed from any direction. She once again checked the straps, and then inspected the sheath, where she saw that Doug’s penis still had a quarter inch or so to `breathe’ at the end. "Doug, pay attention. Let me explain to you how this device works. There is a sheath around your pee-pee. It feels soft on the inside, because there is a nice waterproof gel there that ought to be very comfortable when you pee-pee is this size. But notice that the sheath isn’t very long, it’s curved, and it gets skinny at the end. If your pee-pee should for any reason get any bigger, it will be forced to curve around, and push against the skinny wall at the end. This shape simply won’t accomodate an erection of any size at all. You will also discover that, beneath the nice soft gel, are hidden tiny prickly-feeling spikes. They don’t hurt you now, but if the fit gets any tighter, I have reliable sources tell me that it becomes very painful. "These features will effectively dissuade you from trying to get an erection. And if you do manage even a small one, it will be more painful than it is pleasurable. This is called classical conditioning, and you don’t need to know that much about it. Just know that the pain you feel will convince you that erections are bad, painful things. My experience tells me that this association will persist even after we take the device off, if we decide to do that. So this is why this device is such an effective treatment for your problem. “Just for fun, to make sure that the conditioning is reinforced often, I had the thigh straps put on. They tug at the sheath and its contents whenever you walk or move. The gel is apparently so comfortable that many of my babies have had trouble with becoming aroused whenever they walk. This, of course, leads to pain, which reinforces the lesson that genital stimulation is bad. It is a lesson you will learn well in the next six weeks.” She smiled at Doug, who was now sitting up and staring at this contraption which encased his groin. He was amazed. He didn’t think this type of thing existed. Of course, he had been naive about a lot of things before Mrs. Warren had come into his life. Mrs. Warren shook her head. She could never get over her admiration for whoever had designed this little beast. It was perfect. She just wished she had more of them to go around. She pulled up Doug’s diaper between his legs and taped it tightly. “You don’t have to worry about chafing. Just use lots of powder and lotion under the straps when you can. I will let you out every few days to clean and powder your penis for a moment and put lotion on it if you want. Otherwise, the device is totally waterproof, which means you don’t have to worry about peeing in it, showering in it, etc. It’s darn near indestructible.” She stood and walked over to her purse. “And the best part it, you don’t have to take it off to give a spanking.” She put her black purse over her shoulder, and turned toward the door. Then she turned back. “Oh, I almost forgot. I’ve decided you clearly need better reminders of how old you are, since you were playing with yourself like a big boy. So we’ll go back to the bibs and bottles. I’ve removed all of your glasses, so you need to do all of your drinking from your bottles now. And bibs at every meal. Okay? Okay. Goodbye, Doug. I’ll see you tomorrow night for your “first” spanking. Until then, be good.” Mrs. Warren laughed and winked as she left. Doug sat in his diaper on the floor and stared at the door long after she’d left. Doug’s next week, simply put, was hell. For five days he received an unforgettable series of spankings that left him sore for nearly two weeks afterward. And things didn’t really get better after that. Mrs. Warren’s chastity device, unfortunately, turned out to be everything she’d said it was, and more. Early and exhaustive experimentation early on proved it to be inescapable. He was definitely stuck in it for the duration. The sheath itself wasn’t really uncomfortable, as long as Doug’s penis was flaccid. It fit well, and there was very little chafing. But he soon grew to hate the straps that ran around each of his thighs and attached to the sheath. With every step, they tugged the sheath from side to side, gently massaging Doug’s penis against the smooth gel of the sheath. In his deprived, excitable state (which only worsened, of course, as time went on), it led quickly and efficiently to the beginnings of an erection, which was just as quickly and efficiently terminated by what felt like a thousand needles digging into his penis. He had no idea how it worked, what was under the gel, or why it never seemed to draw blood. But it was undeniably present, and excruciatingly painful. It happened nearly every time he walked, and when the pain hit, he’d literally double over and have to fight a yelp of distress. After the better part of a minute, the venous congestion would disperse, and the pain would abate; he would straighten up and walk for another few steps until it happened again. And so, yes, he began to hate and fear these mini-erections, despite his knowledge that it was not erections per se that were painful, that he was only being made to feel this way by Mrs. Warren. But what could he do? With every step he took, the association of sexual stimulation and intense pain was etched more and more clearly into his consciousness. And he indeed found himself swearing to himself that he’d never have another erection again, if only the pain would end. He made such oaths despite the fact that he knew he wouldn’t be able to follow up on them later. He knew his resolve wasn’t that strong, that he’d eventually have to give in to his desires and masturbate again. But those straps hurt him. In addition to the torment caused by the chastity device, he also had to deal with the ongoing humiliation of having to drink from a baby bottle, even at work. He was forced to bring a bottle from home, hide it under his desk, and surreptitiously suck on it when he was thirsty or at lunch. He constantly lived in fear of being discovered by coworkers, or worse, his boss, the lab’s director. A week into this punishment, he was surprised to notice that the mug he kept at his desk had disappeared at some point. He didn’t know who had taken it, or when it had been taken, but he had to assume that Mrs. Warren, or her informant, was responsible. He didn’t say a word about it, of course; what could he say? He had to use bottles at home as well, and since he found it impossible to drink anything quickly out of it, he usually ended up sucking on a bottle more or less constantly when he was at home just to satisfy his thirst. And since he had to wear one of his bibs whenever he ate or drank anything, Doug found himself wearing a bib, and drinking from his bottle, nearly the entire time he was at home. These little humiliations added up. Doug never felt more degraded than when he finished a bottle, removed his bib, changed his wet or messy diaper, and put on his pink sleeper for bed. He practiced this sequence nightly, however, without cutting corners. He knew from experience what happened when he tried to break rules. As Doug tried to deal with all of this, the last thing he thought of was his continence (or lack thereof), which was, of course, part of the point. In fact, in the midst of all these other hassles, he was beginning to forget to be upset about having to wear diapers. They were edging their way into his concept of what was “normal” for him these days; if he just had to wear his diapers, and didn’t have to worry about all the other nonsense, he wouldn’t have complained at all. It was near the end of his third month in diapers that he woke up for the first time in a wet diaper. The first time, he wasn’t really sure if he’d done it in his sleep or if he’d awakened and wet it semi-consciously, but as time went on and he woke up wet more and more often, he began to suspect the truth. It was a sign of how much his perspective had changed that he didn’t regard this development with alarm. But Doug was necessarily becoming very good at rationalization, and he reasoned that this was simply a temporary condition brought on by the constant usage of diapers during the daytime, and would surely resolve, along with everything else, as soon as he resumed his normal life in another couple of months. And for now, what was the harm? Like his other unconscious diaper-usage, it actually made things more convenient, since he didn’t have to wake up to take care of things in the middle of the night. His diaper and stuffer were certainly thick enough to handle the overnight load, and so Doug decided that the end result would simply be a better night of sleep. Three weeks into Doug’s enforced chastity punishment, he decided to try to make a bargain with Mrs. Warren. After spending several days mustering the necessary courage, Doug asked her if she might agree to take the thigh straps off if he wore the rest of the device an extra two weeks. Mrs. Warren was delighted by this offer, seeing it as “progress” by Doug, and agreed immediately, since she didn’t currently have another client who would be needing the device before Doug would be done with it. For Doug it was a victory of sorts. Since he was already swearing not to have an orgasm afterward, lengthening the punishment didn’t deprive him of anything, and he rid himself of the most heinous part of the punishment. And he was kind of happy: for the first time since he could remember, he had exerted a little control over his strange life. At the end of the two months, in February, the sheath came off completely, and Doug was happy to return to his “normal” life. He was disappointed when Mrs. Warren said he still had to use the bib and the bottles, but he wasn’t going to argue. He forced himself to be grateful for what he could get; the bibs and bottles were starting to seem less horrible now, anyway. They certainly weren’t worth fighting over. By the time his punishment was over, Doug ended up feeling ready to try to keep his promise not to masturbate. When he had first been locked into it, he had focused on more rebellion, and spent many hours trying to dream up new plans for clandestine masturbation. He had thought of something that would probably work; it revolved around masturbating out the back door of his apartment at night in the grass, a plan that would have seemed utterly bizarre and obscene to him several months earlier. But he was now in desperate straits, and he’d thought he wouldn’t be able to wait until he got out to try it. As time wore on, however, and he began, against his will, to resent his erections, he’d slowly decided to shift his post-punishment strategy to one of lying low. After all, he’d lasted two months without an orgasm; surely he should just wait two more and be done with this whole ordeal. The two remaining months would pass much faster if he were not being actively punished for something; he ought to be good, get out, and then recover his life. Abstinence seemed a small price to pay to expedite his freedom, even in the face of a diaper fetish, which, although less obvious these days, must still be hiding there underneath it all. It was indeed the ultimate sacrifice, but it was still worth it if it helped him bear his ICP better. Doug realized that he was two-thirds of the way through his ICP, and he started thinking more and more about the future, specifically what would happen after this diaper torture was over. His interview for the graduate program had, as expected, gone well, and his boss, the lab director, had essentially assured him that the rest of the application process was a formality, and that for all intents and purposes he could plan on entering the program in August. Doug was overjoyed at this, for he’d structured this entire year around this very opportunity. It appeared that his work had paid off, and that despite the strange twist his life had briefly taken, his overall goals were still in sight, and if he could just live through the last two months of this thing, his dream life was waiting for him. He looked forward to having to decide between the equally enticing prospects of a high-salaried private sector position and a juicy teaching job at a top university somewhere. Either way, it looked like his future would be well-paved. Chapter 13 Things were proceeding as planned until, a week after getting out of that prickly penile prison, Doug awoke suddenly in the middle of the night to feel the cold February breeze blowing on his face. He was abruptly jarred to alertness, and he sat up and stared around, feeling that something wasn’t quite right. He saw immediately that his second story window was open. A chill passed through him: he’d closed it before waddling into bed wearing his pink sleeper over his diaper. So who had opened it, and where were they now? He glanced around the room and slowly became aware of the fact that there was actually someone else in bed with him. He could just make out the shape of someone under the sheet, and up near the pillow, a shock of blond hair stuck out above the top of the sheet… Doug caught his breath. This was unreal. He reached over and quietly turned on his bedside lamp, which might not be enough to wake the person next to him. But Doug saw motion under the blanket, and then a hand snaked its way up and out next to the hair, pulling down the sheet to reveal… Emily. Not quite awake yet, stirring restlessly, and frowning a little at the light being on. Emily in his bed. A million questions flooded Doug’s consciousness, all crowding in on him at once. How had she found him? How had she gotten through the window? Why was she here? And, most pressing, what should he do? He’d often thought of her in the past two months, wondering where she was, what she was doing, if he’d ever see her again. Now she was here. For whatever reason, she was here. He let his eyes sweep over the form of her body under the sheet next to him, and from the way the bedclothes lay Doug began to suspect that she was unclothed. Oh, boy. This is too much, he thought. Predictably, Doug felt an erection begin to form. He’d wanted to be good, but surely this was too much of an opportunity to pass up. His hand made its way down to his crotch, and he unconsciously tried to rub himself through his sleeper and diaper. The motion disturbed the already-restless sleeper beside him, and Emily’s eyes fluttered open, squinting at the lamp’s light. “Baby boy,” she murmured. “Are you awake?” “Um, yes,” he said, trying to stay as calm as possible in this odd situation. What should he say to this goddess who had hunted him down and snuck into his bed while he was sleeping? “Uh, Emily?” “Mm-hmmm,” she hummed sleepily. “What are you doing here?” he asked instinctively, and immediately regretted it. She roused herself and looked at him more clearly. “Why, don’t you want me here?” she asked, pouting slightly. “Oh, yes, well, I mean, of course, I do, but,” he sputtered. Didn’t she think this situation was odd? “Shhhh,” she said, putting a finger to his lips. “Don’t get all upset. I thought a surprise visit might be kind of fun. You know what I mean?” she asked, looking up at him. Doug’s throat was completely dry by now. He wanted to speak but couldn’t, and, indeed, couldn’t think of anything appropriate anyway. He knew exactly what she meant, and it was long overdue. He’d spent a lot of time fantasizing about Emily, and had come to realize that if he ever got a chance with her again, he’d take it. He just hadn’t expected that chance to happen like this. He could feel the heat and tension inside his diaper. And this time the erection didn’t hurt. Emily put her hand up to Doug’s chest, running her fingers across the fuzzy pink fabric he wore. “Pretty jammies,” she whispered, smiling. “Did you pick them out yourself?” Doug blushed. “No,” he croaked with embarrassment. “But I have to wear them.” “I think they’re very cute,” Emily told him. “And they’re perfect for you.” Doug blushed again. He must really look stupid in this outfit. How degrading to have Emily see him in it. “But it looks hard to get out of,” she said, her brow furrowed with concern. Doug shook his head. “No, it’s not too bad. There’re snaps all down the front and through here,” he said, indicating his crotch. “So I can…” he broke off, embarrassed at what he’d almost said. “So you can change your diaper?” Emily whispered seductively. “Is that what snaps are for?” Doug nodded and swallowed hard. He was surprised his diaper hadn’t been ripped off by the force of the erection he had right now. “Good,” she replied. “I’m so glad those snaps are there. It will make what happens next a lot easier.” Doug stared at her. He’d heard her, but somehow he didn’t think she was referring to a diaper change. “What happens next?” he asked softly, though he already knew. “Something I’ve been waiting for for a long time,” she answered, smiling. “Something that should have happened long before now.” And she began to sit up, the sheet falling to her the bed, her beautiful breasts emerging to Doug’s view. And he stared. He had never seen such perfection. He had imagined how they’d look, but in his dreams he’d never even conceived of a sight so beautiful. But he didn’t have time to stare. Emily was pushing him back, down to his pillow. In a strong, graceful motion she lifted a foot and climbed on top of him. Doug was paralyzed by the sight of her astride him. She smiled at him as her hands made their way down to his waist and below, finding and pulling apart the snaps at his crotch. She managed to pull his feet out of the sleeper and pull the bottom half of it up above his waist, so that he still wore the top of it, but all that remained below was his diaper. She smiled even more at the sight of it. “Oh, you’re a good boy at home, too, aren’t you?” she asked in a babyish tone. “Well, not tonight, you’re not,” she said as she pulled off the diaper’s tapes. “Tonight, neither of our mommies is around.” She pulled his diaper back, tucking it between his legs behind her. She let her fingers explore their way along Doug’s powdered thighs, across his abdomen, until they worked their way toward their hairless, throbbing target. “Oooh, you’ve missed me,” she said softly. “Just lie back and relax tonight, Doug. There’s nothing you can do about it this time. You know as well as I do that this was meant to be, and I won’t let you off the hook this time.” Her fingers tickled his penis, his tortured and denied penis, and it responded. Doug started breathing heavily, closing his eyes, and concentrating on the forbidden sensations he had been denied for so long. Screw Mrs. Warren, he thought. I’m not a baby; I’m a man, and this is what I’m meant to do. Not even that chastity belt could stop this from happening. Emily sensed his growing excitement, and withdrew her hand in an attempt to draw things out a bit. She leaned over him and placed a breast in his lips. “Why don’t you enjoy that for a while?” she asked. “That’s better than that old bottle you have, isn’t it?” Doug was a little embarrassed by this, but he didn’t care. It did, in fact, feel very nice to suck on a real breast for a change, even if nothing came out. He didn’t ask himself how Emily knew about the bottle. He was concentrating on Emily’s responsive moans, sucking more as he heard her grow more excited. Soon Emily, too, was panting, and with a slow, determined motion, she lifted herself with her strong thighs and guided Doug’s penis into her, and, smiling, said, “This is what you’ve been waiting for, isn’t it?” Doug opened his eyes and nodded happily, and then closed them again to savor the sensation. It was exactly what he had wanted, and he wasn’t thinking of anything else right now, not the ethics of what was happening, not how Emily possibly could have gotten his address, not what would happen when Mrs. Warren found out. It felt perfect, like he’d been born and lived his entire life just for this one moment. Heaven. He felt Emily rise and fall on him, and together they moved, the excitement building and building. The climactic moment was well-timed, and the bliss lasted several seconds, until Emily fell, exhausted, off of him, onto the bed beside him. Doug just lay there, thanking God for such a moment in the middle of the rest of his misery. Suddenly his eyes snapped open. Had he fallen asleep? He looked around. Emily was gone. The window, wide open before, was now shut and locked. The light was out; it was still nighttime. His hands felt down his body. He was wearing his diaper and his sleeper was back on. Had Emily rediapered and redressed him in his sleep? Why had she left? Why hadn’t he awakened? He nearly started crying when he began to realize that, of course, Emily could never have been here with him. The most perfect moment he’d ever lived had been a dream. A huge wave of disappointment swept over him as he acknowledged that his own life wasn’t nearly so perfect. He should have known. As if Emily would want him, he thought. Look at me, in my pink, babyish sleeper, in my diaper. In my wet diaper, he noted ruefully. Well, as long as I’m up, he thought, I may as well change myself. He turned the light on, unsnapped his sleeper, untaped his diaper and pulled it down between his legs, as Emily had done in his dream. He glanced down at it as he sat up and prepared to get out of bed to get a clean diaper, and he noticed something interesting. His diaper wasn’t all yellow like it usually was after wetting at night. Yet it had felt wet. He looked closer: there was something in his diaper, but it was clearly not urine. Panic set in when Doug realized what had happened. He’d never had a wet dream before, but it wasn’t a difficult conclusion to draw. A perfect dream, the wet diaper. Wow. This is something that’s never happened to me before, but I’m sure I know what it is. A wet dream. And if it was that, then it was great. I’ve really been missing something all this time. But how could he possibly explain this to Mrs. Warren? He couldn’t just throw the diaper away; he had to turn it in, and she’d surely discover his evidence. And then he knew exactly what would happen; his bottom tingled just thinking about it. A horrific spanking followed by the chastity device, and the thigh straps… But it wasn’t fair. He couldn’t have avoided this. He’d been very good, for the very reason that he’d wanted to avoid facing punishment like this. And his mind had been good. It was his body that had betrayed him. How could he possibly have prevented this? He didn’t know what to think about his body any more: wetting at night, wet dreams, what was next? Doug finished changing himself, and then, frustrated and confused, he ended up crying himself back to sleep for the night. When he awoke the next morning, he decided that among the bad options he had, the best was actually to call Mrs. Warren and tell her exactly what had happened, before she found out on her own and was mad at him for trying to lie, too. He imagined that this was what she’d want him to do anyway, so it would probably help to mitigate his punishment. “Yes?” he heard her answer when he phoned her cellular phone an hour later. He’d caught her in between clients. “Um, hi, Mommy, this is Doug calling,” he started. It was a Saturday morning, and he had no plans for the day. He’d figured he ought to keep himself fairly flexible; you never know with Mrs. Warren. “Yes, Doug? How’s my little boy doing this morning?” “Well, okay, I guess, but I need to tell you something embarrassing, and I hope you won’t be mad at me.” Mrs. Warren thought for a moment. Doug was far enough along in his ICP that he wouldn’t be phased at all by what most normal people would call “embarrassing,” so this must be pretty interesting, especially to make Doug call her so early in the day. “Well, Doug, I can’t tell whether or not I need to be mad until you tell me. What’s going on?” Doug paused. How should he say it? “I had a…little accident in my sleep last night,” he said quietly. Accident? She knew he’d begun wetting in his sleep, an excellent sign. But that was old news by now. What could this be? A messy overnight diaper? It was a little early for that, though Doug had made better progress than most. More likely, it was the third kind of accident. “What kind of accident, Doug?” Another pause. Despite all the humiliation he’d experienced so far at Mrs. Warren’s hand, he still was not comfortable talking about these things with her. Especially if a spanking, or worse, was likely afterward. “Well, I’ve been very good, you know, not touching myself at all. Very good. I promise. But last night, I don’t know what happened. I think I must have had one of those dreams.” “One of what dreams, Doug?” Mrs. Warren asked, already knowing the answer. This was a wonderful development. If he was trying to be good, but his body ended up having periodic nocturnal emissions anyway, then Doug was essentially signed up for life with her. She didn’t have to worry about whether or not he was good. She’d be regularly supplied with reasons to keep him on probation indefinitely. “I think it’s called a, um, wet dream,” he answered, blushing. “A what?” “You know, a wet dream. I went to sleep, and when I woke up I had, you know, that sticky sperm stuff in my diaper. Only I didn’t ever touch myself. I was asleep.” Mrs. Warren sighed audibly into the phone. “Okay, Doug,” she said. “It sounds like I need to come see you today. I should be able to squeeze you in in an hour or so. Meanwhile, keep that diaper out for me. I want to see it when I get there.” “Yes, Mommy,” Doug said nervously, and they hung up. She was coming over. This was probably a bad sign. And this time, he’d walked right into it. But he remained hopeful that his willingness to confess would be taken into consideration. On the other hand, would she even believe his story? When she arrived, she took him upstairs and made him show her the diaper. With great embarrassment, he pointed to the semen-stained disposable he’d laid out on his bed. She peered closely at the evidence and clucked loudly at him. “Doug, this is so disappointing. I thought you were being such a good baby for me.” “I am, Mommy,” he protested. “I’m trying. You have to believe me. This has never happened to me before, and I’m upset about it, too. I know I’m not supposed to touch myself.” She smiled at him, obviously earnest in his desire to please her. He’d certainly come a long way in several months. He didn’t even flinch now when he called her “Mommy.” And she knew he was telling the truth. “I believe you, Doug, and I think that you really do want to be good. Up in your head you’ve learned what’s right and wrong. The problem is,” she said, shaking her head with the appropriate amount of sadness showing in her face, “that the rest of your body still hasn’t learned. No matter how good you’ve been, I certainly can’t have my babies ejaculating, can I?” “No, Mommy,” Doug agreed. “So I need to punish you, to help teach your body what’s right and wrong. And like last time, I’ll give you a choice. I can either give you a spanking today, and then let you wear the chastity device for a week to help your problem, or I can just let you wear the device for three weeks, without a spanking. Which would you rather have?” Doug swallowed hard. Much as he disliked the chastity device, he’d learned his lesson from the last choice he’d made. He knew what she wanted. “I’d like the chastity device for three weeks, please, Mommy,” he said meekly. “Good boy,” Mrs. Warren said approvingly. He certainly remembered lessons. “And because you’ve been so honest with me, I’ll only make you wear the thigh straps for the first week, if you’re a good boy. How does that sound?” Better than a spanking, he thought. “But if this happens again, Doug, I may need to start spanking you as well, to help your body learn better. And this time, and every time in the future, I’m afraid I’ll need to extend your probation period another three months.” This way, she could continue to give him the occasional spanking, for fun, and be sure to keep him around forever. Whatever, Doug thought. I’m out of this program in seven weeks. You can keep me on probation as long as you want. It won’t affect me after I’m out! “Yes, Mommy.” And so began Doug's second period of enforced celibacy, which he found, to his disappointment, no easier than the first. But the time passed, and if it got him closer to getting out of this damned program, then it was worth being good and playing along. The next week Doug noticed that the diapers delivered by Mrs.Warren were in a different package. They still said “BRIEFS, LARGE; ADULT DIAPERS'' on them, but in big letters next to this were the words, “NEW; MORE ABSORBENT.” He also noted that he didn’t receive any stuffer pads to go in them. Mrs. Warren saw his confusion. “Mrs. Sheffield has redesigned your diapers so that they are thicker and more absorbent. Apparently she received enough suggestions about this from our clients that she thought it would be worthwhile adjusting the product line.” She smiled at him, knowing full well that Doug himself had asked for a diaper like this before he’d known he’d be forced to wear it. “They are now thick enough that you don’t need to use pads in them any longer. You ought to be very thankful that she cares that much for your comfort. I’d like to see a thank-you note for her by tomorrow from you, expressing your appreciation for her help in your incontinence control. I’ll pick it up and deliver it myself. She’s a wonderful woman, you know,” she said. Wonderfully naive and overly trusting, she didn’t say. Mrs. Warren was thrilled about the new diapers, since they were much more similar to the prototype worn by real babies, and this made them all that much more effective in belittling her clients. They were so good that she briefly considered switching all of her baby boys to them, even those in cloth diapers. But she also knew that fetishists were extremely particular with their desires, and she wanted every boy to be stimulated maximally by the diaper he wore. The benefits reaped from such an arrangement far outweighed the convenience brought by putting everyone in these nice disposables. Doug listened and grimaced slightly, recognizing the irony in the situation. Months ago, when he’d asked for it, he would have appreciated such a product, since it played into his infantile fantasies so well. But now that it was no longer a fantasy, he couldn’t really enjoy what was clearly the perfect adult diaper for fetishists. He wondered briefly if other AB’s would at least get to enjoy this product, at his expense. He ended up liking the change, though, since the new diapers were simpler and a better product. And they weren’t any more noticeable than wearing a pad under a regular adult diaper. The time spent in the chastity device slowly passed, and when he emerged for the second time, in late March, he began to think about the future. With only a couple of weeks remaining until he got out of the program in late April, he started dreaming about his soon-to-be-normal-again life. He had recently learned that he had indeed been accepted into the grad program, and would therefore spend around six or seven years here working on a masters and doctoral degree. Spring was just starting to add leaves to the trees and flowers to the gardens. He would soon be allowed to visit a doctor and get out of this ridiculous program. All in all, things were definitely looking up. Okay, he thought to himself, it’s technically not quite a “lock” that I’ll get out. But if the doctor isn’t directly employed by TIC or The Drugstore, then he’s *got" to recognize that it would be absurd to call me incontinent. Before all this started, I hadn’t had any accidents since I was three years old. I’ve never had any trouble with incontinence. And I look young and healthy. Only an idiot would look at me and agree with Mrs. Warren. It’s finally time to inject a reasonable opinion into the decisions about my life. So Doug asked Mrs. Warren for the list of doctors recommended by TIC to judge his continence. The list included eight physicians in the area, and since Doug knew they couldn’t all be “fixed” and under Mrs. Warren’s control, he felt comfortable with it. He immediately set about deciding who he would go see; it was an important decision. Two were women, and instinctively he crossed them off the list. He’d been embarrassed too often over these last few months to trust a woman with this decision. With his luck she would think he looked cute in diapers and would want to keep him that way. No, he’d pick a male, who would be rational and concrete and impartial. After some deliberation he chose Dr. Bruce Mitchell, who ran a generalist practice just outside of town. He’d heard other lab workers who went to him say that he was very good. He probably couldn’t do any better than that. So he made the appointment for the very day of the six month anniversary (luniversary?) of the signing of his contract for his ICP. He told Mrs. Warren that this would be his last day in the program, and to his annoyance, she just nodded and smiled at him, as if she knew something he didn’t. In his paranoia, he took this as an indication that she knew this doctor well, and so he called and cancelled this appointment, making another for the same day with another highly recommended doctor in town from the list, Dr. John Bryant. When Doug called Mrs. Warren to tell her of this new appointment, she had to smile. This was certainly the Doug she’d grown to know and enjoy over the winter, unflinchingly naive, persistently optimistic, and still completely unaware of the game they were playing. He thought it made a difference which doctor he went to. That was cute. Well, he’d find out soon enough. All in all, she thought, Doug had turned out to be a wonderful client. He thought he was smart, so he’d tested the rules at the beginning, allowing her to exercise her talent at punishment to a satisfying degree. He’d made great progress in his incontinence, as far as she was concerned, and she had no doubt what the result of his doctor visit would be. She’d prepared him well. He was hers for as long as she wanted his money, which, at this point, was indefinite. And, at least until his appointment, he was completely in the dark, and so was unflappably enthusiastic about his chances at getting out of the program. He’d also learned enough lessons by now to make him nearly perfectly docile, the ideal client, who, as time went by, would need less and less care, so that she could concentrate on the new ones. Already, she had several newer boys that she needed to focus on. They were still defiant, still drank from glasses, still wore regular pajamas to bed, still probably masturbated regularly. Doug was nearly completely infantilized, and, as such, was now completely subject to her blackmail. He would never attempt to explain to others how he had been “made” to wear bibs or those hysterical feminine sleepers, or been “forced” to sit in his own poop, or drink from bottles. He was so far in that he’d never, ever consider rebelling. So he was hers. Mrs. Warren savored the thought: even as Doug prepared for his “big” appointment, he was hers. Chapter 14 Doug entered the exam room indicated by the nurse. He nervously waddled over to the examination table and uncertainly set down the pink diaper bag that Mrs. Warren had forced him to bring today. He normally took it everywhere, of course, but he had asked if he might be allowed to leave it at home just this once. Today was different for the reason that he wanted to make a good impression on the doctor. However, since he was forced to bring the bag, he was now simply hoping he’d have five minutes or so before the doctor came in so that he could take off his diaper and hide his bag, since both of those clues might make the doctor think he really was incontinent. The worst thing that could happen today, now that he had endured the whole six months, would be if the doctor really mistook him for someone who was incontinent. He had to put his best foot forward and present himself as he was, someone who was in an absurd situation and who just needed a little backup here to get out. But instead of leaving him alone in the room, the nurse followed him in, leaving the door open behind her. “And what are you here to see the doctor about today?” she asked casually, straightening some jars on the counter. Doug was surprised. He hadn’t thought he’d have to tell anyone besides the doctor about his situation. He was embarrassed about it, of course, and didn’t want to go through it with anyone else. “I’d rather just talk to the doctor,” he said, apologetically, trying not to hurt her feelings. He needn’t have worried. “Yes, that’s fine, but you need to let me know the nature of the problem first,” she insisted. She held his chart in her hand, and clearly wanted to write his complaint on it for the doctor. Doug began to get flustered. “But…but it’s personal,” he said. She was pretty. He didn’t want her to know. She looked at him with cool professionalism, telling him with her eyes that he couldn’t have anything she hadn’t seen before. “Yes, I’m sure it is. Everyone’s problems are personal. But I need to know so I can decide how best to prepare you for the doctor’s examination. You just need to give me a clue.” He paused. There seemed to be no way out of it. “I guess I need to talk to him about…well, incontinence.” This caught her attention. Doug started to blush as he felt her eyes sweep over him and come to rest on his diaper bag, next to his feet. “I see,” she commented after a moment. She turned and opened a cabinet under the counter, removing from it a bright blue pad. “Are you wearing any kind of…protection?” He hesitated while the nurse spread out the pad, which was plastic on one side and absorbent gauze on the other, on the examination table. Doug blushed even more when he realized that she was putting it there to protect the table from him. When he didn’t answer right away, she gave him an expectant glance. He didn’t want to tell her, because then they’d all think he was really incontinent. “Uh, no. It’s just a little problem. I don’t even think it’s really a problem. I just need to talk to him about it.” She walked back over to the counter and picked up his chart again. “Hm. It looks like you’re wearing something,” she observed coolly, staring at his groin, which bulged obviously. “What kind?” Shoot. She can tell. “Oh, uh, this,” Doug stammered, staring down. “I don’t need this, it’s just…well, I don’t even know why I have it on.” “Uh-huh,” she said doubtfully. “What I asked was, what is it?” she repeated firmly. “Oh, well, it’s a, um, a brief,” he mumbled under his breath. He hadn’t heard or used that term in over six months, since he’d first talked to Mrs. Sheffield for the first time that fateful day in the drugstore. Since then, of course, it had always been a “diaper.” The other word sounded funny now. “What?” the nurse asked. Doug silently cursed. He’d said it too softly. Now he’d have to say it again. He was now painfully aware of the open door. “A, uh, brief,” he repeated, louder. How much more could he blush in front of her? She stared at him for a minute, before her eyes darted back down to his crotch and a look of comprehension crossed her face. “Oh,” she said, winking at him. “Sorry, I just hadn’t heard that word for it.” Doug could have died. “Okay, well, I need you to take everything off except your diaper, and sit up here on the blue pad,” she said matter-of-factly. “I’ll be back in a minute to get your blood pressure and temp.” She started out of the room, but then reconsidered, reaching down under the table and bringing out a short cotton gown, which she handed him. “Just in case you’re modest,” she explained, smiling. And then she left the room, closing the door behind her. Doug was sort of in shock. That hadn’t gone as planned. He felt ridiculous for calling a “brief” what was obviously a diaper, and he felt even worse when she essentially corrected him, using the more infantile term. Worst of all, now she wanted him to wear it for the examination. That would make a great impression. He could understand why she’d want someone who was incontinent to wear their “protection” during the exam, but it came at a very bad time for him. She didn’t look like she believed him that it was only a little problem. She thought he needed diapers. What would the doctor think? She seemed pretty astute and strong-willed, so he knew he’d probably have to do what she said. Nurses had always scared him a little anyway. He didn’t really have the courage to confront her about not wanting to wear his diaper in front of the doctor; anyway, it wouldn’t help: she’d just tell the doctor he was wearing one, and the result would be the same. He’d lost the first round here. But he could still win the war. He had to. He felt as though his life depended on it. He dejectedly took his shirt off and put the gown on, noting that it barely reached his waist. Useless. He slipped his shoes, socks, and pants off and looked at himself in the mirror on the back of the exam room door. He looked stupid standing there in his diaper and the little gown. And then he looked closer and noticed something: it looked like his diaper’s indicator was now mostly blue. But when had he wet himself? He didn’t know. Now, he’d have to… Suddenly the door swung wide open and the nurse breezed in. She stopped cold at the sight of him in his wet diaper, and through the wide open door, Doug saw two other nurses staring at him as well. He was being gawked at, in his wet diaper, by the office staff. Great. He wanted to go home. But no time for that. His own nurse closed the door and, trying to suppress a laugh, shook her head and said, “Okay, little guy, let’s hop up on the table like I told you.” Completely chagrined, Doug waddled back to the table and hoisted himself onto it, positioning himself obediently over the blue underpad. His diaper rustled loudly, a fact the nurse clearly appreciated. But she was able to avoid laughing outright, and she efficiently took his blood pressure and pulse at his side. She wrote these numbers down, then said, “Okay, just the temp.” She walked over to the cabinets above the counter in front of him and opened the closest, blocking it from Doug’s sight with her body and exposing a small bin of thermometers that read “ORAL” on the front of it. She grunted softly with dissatisfaction and pushed it out of the way to reveal another bin behind it with the label, “RECTAL.” She reached in and pulled out a thermometer, shook it down, and dunked it into a waiting jar of vaseline, pulling out with it a large glob of petroleum jelly. Doug couldn’t see what the nurse was doing, but he had no reason to suspect anything unusual. So though it didn’t quite make sense to him when the nurse, still facing away from him, asked him to lie back and relax, he did it without thinking. But when she turned and approached him a moment later, one hand holding the thermometer with the gooey vaseline on it, the other reaching out to untape his diaper, he sat bolt upright and grabbed the outstretched hand. “Hey, what’re you doing?” he said, not quite sure what was going on. “You just lie back and be a good boy. We’ll be done in a couple of minutes.” Doug was slowly catching on, and couldn’t believe it. She couldn’t really be talking about sticking that thing in there. “But that’s not how you…” “Ah, ah,” the nurse chided, as if to a child. “First let’s get this in, then we can talk.” Talk with the thermometer in? he thought. That definitely meant she wanted to do it rectally. Despite his fear of nurses, he had to protest this. “But that’s a rectal thermometer,” he said quickly, pointing out what he still hoped was a mistake. She nodded. “That’s right. It goes in your bottom. I just need you to lie down so I can undo your diaper.” That wasn’t a good enough explanation for him. This was so humiliating. And he couldn’t let her see that he was hairless down there. This was horrible. He had to fight this. “But that’s for babies.” “Uh-huh,” she said brightly, as if he’d answered his own question. “But I’m not a baby. You don’t need to do it that way.” “Well, but you are wearing diapers, and that’s the rule. It may not make much sense to you, but it’s for your own safety. The insurance companies require us to do it this way with anyone in diapers, something about competence and the safety risk of putting mercury in your mouth. I know you’re not the normal diaper-wearer, but the office has to follow the policy. I could get fired for breaking that rule. Do you want me to get fired?” she asked him. “Well, no, but…” “Okay. Well, then, I need you just to lie back and relax.” She tried to push him back gently with her free hand. Doug started to whine. “Please, couldn’t you just make an exception?” “No. I told you, I’ll get fired. Now we can do this nicely, or I can call and get some help, and we can hold you down. It’s your choice. But we’re going to do it,” she told him sternly. He could do nothing but hang his head. “Okay,” he said in frustration. He just hated being treated like a baby by everyone. “You don’t have to hold me down. I just don’t understand.” He allowed her to lay him back. He stared at the ceiling, hoping this visit would improve. She undid his tapes with her free hand, and pulled his diaper down between his legs. He felt her pause as she obviously took in the sight of his bald crotch, but then she collected herself, and instructed him to spread his legs and lift them way up, so that his knees were on his chest. He did this automatically. He’d been cleaned and changed enough by now to know how. He closed his eyes as he felt her separate his cheeks and slip the cold, slimy thermometer inside. He couldn’t help flinching at this shocking sensation. “Sorry it’s cold. It should warm up.” Doug nodded and felt a tear slide down one cheek. This was just so humiliating. He felt her fingers against his skin down there, firmly holding the thermometer in its place. He opened his eyes and stared at the ceiling, hoping it would all end soon. Finally he felt it exiting, and for a second thought that he was accidentally having a BM. He yanked his head up to look down there, but all he saw was the nurse wiping off the now-brownish thermometer with a tissue, reading it, and writing down the number. She grabbed another tissue and brought it over to him, wiping the vaseline off of his bottom. As she did this, she commented, “That’s quite a wet diaper you’ve got there. Did you bring a spare?” Doug could only nod shamefully as he stared upward. This was so painful. He thought she was about to suggest one or the other of them change him, but she seemed to change her mind. She pulled his wet diaper up between his legs and retaped him tightly, saying, “Well, I’m sure you can wait until after the doctor sees you. Then you can be sure to have a dry diaper to go home in.” Doug heard a door slam down the hall. “Ah, he must be ready for you, so we don’t have time to change you anyway. He’ll be in in just a second.” She helped him sit up, and then left the room. The nurse found Dr. Bryant in the hall and told him his next patient was ready. “What’s this one?” the doctor replied, working on a note on the previous patient. “Incontinence,” she answered, smiling at him meaningfully. Seeing a quizzical look in response, she explained, “Another one of those young men with diapers and absolutely no control. This one’s diaper is soaked.” “Another one?” Dr. Bryant shook his head in amazement. “I’ve got to talk to Linda Warren. Where does she find them?” “As if you don’t like the referrals,” the nurse teased. “Well, of course, it is good business for us,” he agreed. “But it’s just so strange. My whole career I don’t see any of them, and then in the last few years, it’s like one every couple of months, all under the nursing care of Linda. Very odd. Well, I’m not complaining. Did you get this one’s temp rectally?” “Of course,” she said. “I know the drill. And of course, he put up the requisite fuss, but he eventually bought the line about insurance and office policy. Same as the others.” “That is a good excuse. And I know they all seem to object, but remember what Linda told us: they like being treated that way. She says they only object because they know we’ll tell her, and they’ll get into trouble with her.” “And they like that? I’ve heard she does some of that S&M stuff with them to punish them.” “I know. It’s crazy. But she insists they like it. And I knew Linda when she worked here, and I trust her. I also know for a fact that there are people out there, probably more than most folks would guess, who do get off on that sort of thing. Far be it from me to judge them.” “The thing I really don’t understand is why they would come to you like they do.” “Well,” Dr. Bryant said, stroking his chin, “That is the confusing part.” He thought a moment. “Linda tells me that they enroll in this little `program’ of hers because they clearly want to be babies again, which is fine. Whatever floats their boat, you know? But then, exactly six months to the day after they enroll, they come crawling in here saying they don’t like it after all. Infancy, it seems, is not all it’s cracked up to be,” he said, laughing. The nurse also laughed; diapers didn’t seem like that much fun to her. “But at this point, I must say that I don’t feel much sympathy for them. In my opinion, if you want to make your bed, you’ve got to lie in it, too. What they do is, they spend six months intensively regressing themselves back to babies, and doing it very successfully, I might add, and then they want to grow up all at once. Well, it just doesn’t work that way. They all want to be told that they’re continent and ready to resume their lives, when, as you know, they’re completely incontinent, just as they wanted to be. It’s totally irrational. And then they want me to help them, now that they’ve done all this to themselves.” “But you can’t do anything, for that, can you?” the nurse asked. “Not a thing,” he replied. “They’ve completely deconditioned their sphincters. What can I do to help them? So I tell them the truth, which often surprises them for some reason, though I can’t imagine why. What kind of an idiot do you have to be not to realize that if you fully regress yourself, you’ll just have to do the work growing up again?” He finished up the chart note from the prior patient. “There’s no shortcut. The best I can do is be honest, and, for fun, play into their little game as much as I can. That’s why I ask you to rectalize them, as gross as that may be for you. It’s probably the only thing they get out of this visit.” “Oh, I don’t mind,” the nurse said graciously. “In fact, it’s kind of fun, especially seeing the look on their faces when I come at them with the thermometer all covered with vaseline. I’ve seen several of them wet their diapers on the spot.” They both shared a chuckle at the idea. “It’s fine until you run into a messy diaper,” she said. “Then it’s not so funny.” She wrinkled up her face. “Oh, was this one messy?” the doctor asked. “No, no. Just wet. Haven’t had a messy one in quite a while.” “Yes, that’s odd, actually,” he said. “Because without exception, they’re incontinent of bowel as well. I’m surprised we don’t see more of it.” “Yes, well, I’m just as happy this way,” the nurse laughed. “Okay. One other thing. Was he shaved clean down there?” The nurse nodded, smiling. “As a whistle.” The doctor chuckled. “Alright. Well, where is this one’s chart?” “In the door, waiting for you. Be nice, he looks very embarrassed.” “Yeah, but Linda says that’s part of it. They like the humiliation.” “Whatever. Don’t be long. Drug lunch when you’re done.” “Okay, thanks.” Dr. Bryant glanced at the chart and opened the door. He entered the room, took in the sight of Doug sitting in his wet diaper, collected himself quickly, stuck out his hand and introduced himself. “I’m Dr. Bryant. You must be Doug. What can I do for you today?” Doug cleared his throat, looked down at his wet diaper, and said, “Well, it’s a long story, but the bottom line is, I’m being forced to wear these because some crazy woman thinks I’m incontinent. But I’m not, and only if you write me a note saying I’m continent will she let me not wear them. So I need you to tell her I’m perfectly continent, and that’s all.” Dr. Bryant shook his head. Amazing how they all knew the script so well. But he’d have to tell Linda this one said she was crazy. That was rich. “Let’s slow down, and start at the beginning. When did this all start?” He knew the answer before it was said, but he had to go through the whole thing with each one. “Six months ago,” Doug replied. “This lady made me enroll in a program where I have to wear these because she says I’m incontinent. But it’s just not true. It hasn’t been true since I was three years old.” “Then why did you enroll in the first place? Why did you agree to wear diapers?” This seemed like the critical issue, and these guys could never explain it to his satisfaction, an indication that this story about not liking it was pretty flimsy. “She made me…have an accident,” Doug confessed. “Then she made me sign a contract, and so now I have to wear diapers, or…” He stopped short. He wasn’t sure how much he really wanted to tell him. It was all so humiliating. “Or what?” the doctor prompted. You never knew when you might hear something so new and perverted it was interesting. Doug hesitated. The doctor just stared at him, waiting. “Or else, she, um, well, spanks me.” It was perfect. The diapers, the spanking, the faked embarrassment. Well, free country, right? He had nothing at all against a good kink. And he was making money, too. Might as well play along. It would be fun, Linda would appreciate it, and the boy probably would, too. “So then. Have you been a good boy and worn your diaper the whole time?” Doug nodded, ashamed. “Good. So what’s the problem? You’re being good, wearing your diapers, so why are you here?” This wasn’t going right, Doug thought. Why isn’t the doctor more shocked? “Because I need you to write a note, saying I don’t have to wear these.” Maybe the boy would appreciate a little teasing before being examined. “What makes you think that?” Doug began to get a little flustered. “Because I’m a grown-up! I know how to use a toilet. I’m not a baby!” “But from where I sit, you look like you’re wearing a soaking wet diaper. What’s to convince me you’re continent?” the doctor asked with a look of mock confusion on his face. “Because I am!” Doug exclaimed. “I never had accidents before she made me wear them. It’s just because she locked my toilets that I use these. I wouldn’t otherwise.” “Hmmm,” the doctor said doubtfully. That was enough, he thought. No need to torment the guy. The nurse was right: he’s pretty pathetic. Maybe this time he’ll actually have some control, and I can write him a little note. It honestly appears that it would make this one happy. I’d sure be glad to do it. “Well, I should examine you to settle this question.” He went over to the counter and got a glove and some lubricant. “I need you to lie back for me.” Doug did so quickly, knowing this was necessary. At last, he was being taken seriously. After six months someone finally was entertaining the notion that he was continent. Finally, his chance. He’d show them all. He laid still as he felt the doctor untape his diaper and pull it down between his legs once more. Doug lifted his knees spontaneously, up to his chest, which exposed his hairless groin to the doctor. “Alright, just relax. I’m going to check your sphincter tone down here.” And Doug felt the doctor’s cold, slimy finger push its way into his anus and probe around. He tried to tighten his bottom when the doctor said to do so. Then the doctor withdrew his finger and threw the glove away, silently. Doug was dying to know the result of the exam, but he was too scared to ask. So much depended on this result. He lowered his legs. “Alright, let’s check your urinary control. Do you think you could pee for me right now?” Doug nodded, though he didn’t know why that was important. The doctor pulled his diaper up through his legs again and held it an inch away from his hairless penis and testicles, so that the doctor could still watch but would be protected. “Alright, I want you to start peeing in a moment, right here, into your diaper, like you always do. The only difference is that I am going to watch, and after you’ve started, I’m going to ask you to try to stop peeing. When I say so, I want you to try to stop as quickly and completely as you can. Understand?” Doug nodded, grasping the test laid out before him. This would be it. “Go,” the doctor said. “Pee into your diaper.” Doug tried to push, which was a strange and ancient feeling for him. He hadn’t needed to try to pee in many months. It always just came out. But he managed to get a stream going. He heard it hitting the diaper above his penis, but because the diaper was already wet, he also felt it drip off the diaper and run down his bottom underneath. “Stop!” Dr. Bryant said, and Doug tried. It was finally time to get back on that bike. He tried to clamp down, to stop that stream, but it seemed very difficult. The stream seemed very strong. Surely he couldn’t be expected to stop it completely? That seemed impossible. Slowing the stream down was probably enough, but the wetness that kept running down his bottom made him think maybe he couldn’t do that very well. Well, but this must be an advanced test. He probably got some points for being able to start peeing on cue, right? When he finally dribbled to a halt, Dr. Bryant said, “How much do you have left? Can you go anymore?” But he couldn’t. He was drained. His bladder had fully emptied. Dr. Bryant nodded, and laid the front of the diaper onto his abdomen. He walked over to the sink to wash his hands. “Do you have a dry diaper to change into for your trip home? If not, I’m sure the nurse could find one here for you.” Doug said, “I’ve got one,” quietly. This wasn’t a good sign. The doctor dried his hands and turned toward him. “Why don’t you take a moment to get cleaned up and into a dry diaper, and you can get dressed, too. I’ll be back in a moment to talk to you. Oh, to whom did you want me to write that letter?” Doug’s heart leapt. This doctor was wonderful! He was going to write it anyway! He must have done better than he’d thought. Or maybe he felt sorry for him. But either way, his life wasn’t over after all! He’d show that bitch. “Linda Warren,” he said brightly, and gave him her address and telephone number to the doc when he asked. The doctor left, and Doug hopped down, wrapped up the wet diaper and put it in the bag he’d brought for the purpose. He still probably had to turn it in at the end of the week. He used one of his wipes to clean himself off, and then got a clean diaper out of his bag. But then he stopped. He didn’t need this diaper, he thought to himself, joyously. He was out of the program. Suddenly, however, another few drops of urine squeezed out, onto the blue underpad. Doug reddened as he thought of how the nurse would see that and feel vindicated that she had made him sit on it. In light of that, he decided that maybe wearing this last diaper home wasn’t such a huge concession. Just to be safe. How great that sounded! His last diaper! What a great day, even when it hadn’t started so well. His whole life now seemed brighter than it had yesterday. Unconsciously he rubbed his penis as he arranged the diaper on the table and sat on top of it. He needed to masturbate so badly. It had been so many weeks. But he could when he got home! Whenever he wanted! And let his hair grow! And use the toilets! And wear big boy underpants! And wear normal pajamas, and use real glasses, and not wear bibs. He taped himself in for what he told himself was the very last time. That bitch. How had he ever let her control him, make him wear diapers, spank him like a baby? How foolish he’d been, really, looking back on it all today. It was really crazy what she’d convinced him to do. But he was a new man today. Beyond all that crap with that silly ICP. No more crap from anyone. He got dressed and sat in the chair next to the table. After several minutes, Dr. Bryant walked in and said, “Ah, good, you’re ready. Dry diaper? Good, I’m sure that’s much more comfortable. Well, I went ahead and called Mrs. Warren, so everything’s all set.” Doug’s face lit up. Called her himself! That was great! She’d have to believe the doctor himself. “Thank you so much, Dr. Bryant. I can’t tell you how much this means to me.” Dr. Bryant looked slightly confused. “Er, uh, no problem. She said to tell you that she’d be waiting at your apartment with next week’s supply of diapers. You know, that’s service for you! You must enjoy that,” he said, earnestly trying to imagine. Doug stared at him. “What do you mean, next week’s diapers? Didn’t you tell her I’m not incontinent?” The doctor stared back. “Of course not. I told her the truth: you need your diapers like a fish needs water. You continent? I’d lose my license for that,” he chuckled. Doug, however, was not laughing. “But…oh, my God. I didn’t want you to tell her that. Oh, no, you didn’t…” Dr. Bryant stopped chuckling and tried to figure out what was wrong with this scene. “But of course I had to. I have newborn patients with more control than you. Your anal tone was completely nonexistent, and you dribble more than an entire basketball team!” He’d started laughing again. It was just so absurd. But he stopped when he saw how upset Doug looked. “I’m sorry if I didn’t make that clear. I assumed you had to know it.” Doug shook his head. Probably he did know it, but hadn’t yet confronted it as reality. How could he face it? It didn’t make any sense. “But I don’t understand why I’m this way now. I really never had any problems before. How could it have just happened?” Dr. Bryant saw how devastated Doug looked, and he was once again struck by this particular boy’s vulnerability. He looked like he really didn’t understand and perhaps needed a good explanation. Dr. Bryant sat down in front of Doug. “Doug, when was the last time you used a toilet?” Doug could recall the day and the time perfectly. It was the morning six months ago when Mrs. Warren had awakened him with her knocking. He’d stumbled into the bathroom and peed into (and around) the downstairs toilet. It seemed so long ago. “Six months ago, to the day.” “And have you tried to hold your bladder and bowels during the last six months at all? I mean, when did you give up caring whether or not you controlled yourself?” Doug thought about it. This question was harder. “Well, I guess I stopped caring right away. I mean, why not? It didn’t help to wait, `cause I still had to use the diapers. I couldn’t get out of it, no matter what. So I didn’t even try.” The doctor nodded. “And do you even have to think about it now?” Doug shook his head. “No, but actually that’s great. It’s the one nice thing about this diaper thing. I don’t even notice when I pee these days. I mean, if I have to use the diapers, I’m glad I don’t have to think about it. But how does that have anything to do with this? I’m older than a toddler, even if she doesn’t treat me that way. Why can’t I control myself?” Dr. Bryant thought for a second, trying to use a good analogy. “Doug, have you ever broken a bone?” Doug nodded. What the heck did that have to do with anything? “Was it in a cast?” “Yeah. For six weeks.” “And at the end of the six weeks, what did your arm feel like?” Doug tried to remember. “It was pretty weak. I couldn’t do anything with it at first, and it got really tired very quickly.” The doctor nodded at him. “That’s because of something called atrophy. Muscles sort of waste away when you don’t use them. It’s possible to completely lose function in them. Now imagine if you’d had that cast on for six months.” Finally Doug understood. He thought for a moment. “So I’m just weak? Or did I lose it completely?” This could be horrible news. Dr. Bryant considered this. “Well, I don’t think you’ve lost use completely, although I can’t be sure.” “So I could get it back?” "Perhaps. If you try to use those muscles again. But it won’t be easy, Doug. There is a developmental principle that applies here. It has to do with milestones. When a child gets sick, he often regresses slightly with the illness, so that he loses the most recent milestone he has learned. This happens all the time with bedwetting in four- or five-year-olds. If they get sick, or stressed, they start wetting the bed again. This has been well- observed and documented in the literature.” Dr. Bryant sat back in his chair. “That’s no big deal, though, because when they get better, they can regain that milestone. The problem is, it generally takes twice as long for a child to regain a milestone as it did for him to lose it. And that’s with intense training. So say a kid is in traction for two weeks and forgets how to walk. It’ll take a month of full-time training for him to get it back. We don’t know why this is so, but it is a universal observation.” This sounded kind of ominous to Doug. He could do the math, but he didn’t want to. “What are you saying?” he asked quietly. “I’m telling you that you could potentially regain control, but I’d estimate that to get back to where you were it would take at least a year of formal, full-time toilet training, probably in some kind of organized program. Until you finish this type of training, you will almost certainly have to wear diapers. It’s just like you were starting from scratch again, like a baby, and you need to wear diapers just like a baby.” Now the doctor leaned toward him. “And because of what you’ve done to yourself, it’ll take twice as long to get better as it did to get this way. You’ll be in diapers for at least another year, Doug. That’s what I’m telling you.” Doug’s mouth dropped open. Another year. “And that’s if you start a formal potty-training program immediately. I don’t think you could retrain yourself on your own: it’s simply too difficult. You’ll need someone’s help in this.” The doctor smiled here. “Luckily, you’re already hooked up with someone who also runs a potty-training program like this. Mrs. Warren tells me she’ll be happy to continue working with you on this.” Doug sat motionless, trying to let this sink in. But it was so overwhelming, so devastating. “I might point out to you, Doug, that if you want control back sooner rather than later, you ought to get started as soon as possible. Every day you delay potty-training is additional two days after that in diapers. So every week prolongs things by three weeks. This thing, unless you get on top of it quickly, could drag out into several years of difficult training. Do you understand?” Doug nodded numbly. And as he sat there listening to his doctor explain the medical reality of his situation to him, he really did begin to understand. For the first time since this entire thing started, Doug began to comprehend fully what was happening. It was clear to Doug that Mrs. Warren knew all of this. She’d been a nurse, so she’d have to know about atrophy, and milestones, and retraining. His chronic suspicions that she enjoyed embarrassing him blossomed into the realization that she’d done all of this to him on purpose. Everything she’d done had been to make him lose control, from the very first glass of diaper juice. Why? he wondered. Money, perhaps, since he paid her. And if she really had dozens of other “babies,” then she probably made quite a bundle. But there had to be more. She was smart and skilled enough that she could make money doing anything. No, she also had to like this. And the more he considered it, the more he realized that she liked nothing more than seeing him suffer, even from the first accident in the bathtub. She loved to find excuses to spank him, to humiliate him, to degrade him. And this lady was so mean, so smart, and so capable, that she had figured out a way to make her living from it. As the insight began to form, it gained momentum and flooded Doug’s consciousness. He even began to see why she had made him wait six months before going to the doctor. It had to be long enough to assure that he’d lose all bladder and bowel control. And just as she had planned, he had. He cursed himself. How could he not have figured this out before today? He’d played along, at every step of the way. “I’ll just go along with it until tomorrow, or next week, or in a few months,” he’d said, again and again, each time walking further down this fateful path to where he sat today. Today, when he realized that he now needed Mrs. Warren and her diapers. Now he was exactly what she’d said he was at the beginning: completely incontinent. Now, in addition to being locked in by that damned contract he’d signed, he actually needed her diaper service to control his incontinence. And he was obviously hers for the next whole year. Hers to torture, hers to diaper. But even more insight flooded in. Why should she stop at one year? She had a financial interest in his incontinence. He wasn’t even off of probation yet. Say it took another six months to make it off of probation, which he guessed was an underestimate, and then another six months to get to the retraining stage. Potty training would then take another three years after that. He was probably looking at four more years in diapers, and worse than that, four more years with Mrs. Warren. Did he even have the will to potty-train with her for three years? And, knowing her, wasn’t it likely that she would make it even longer than that, or send him back to diapers near the end just out of spite? Doug experienced an epiphany when he grasped that he would never be allowed out of his diapers, and now that he’d gone along with her for this long, he was now totally helpless to stop it. He was hers forever. And…no more orgasms. Ever. Over the following days and weeks, Doug would think back, remembering the day he’d first wandered into TIC’s clutches. He would wonder how he’d fallen for Mrs. Sheffield’s apparently false concern, wonder how she’d ever gotten his address and phone number. He would think about how he’d failed her phone survey test, how he’d volunteered for the incontinence test which had begun to undo him. He would recall every incident of humiliation and blackmail, which were now clearly designed solely to keep him in diapers long enough to lose control. He’d think about the evidence along the way that he was losing his control: the Bowel Encouragement horror, the accident on Emily’s lap during the spanking, the wetting at night. He had been so caught up with little things that now seemed trivial (“Will I have to use a bib for another week?” “I hope she’s not mad at me for coming home early.”) that he’d entirely missed the big issue. He would feel entirely embarrassed and defeated, unable to ignore the fact that he had unquestionably lost the most important battle of his life, and was now diaper-bound and dependent on a sadistic and opportunistic businesswoman interested in only two things: his pain and her money. He would have to submit totally to her will now, and he would have to give up ever escaping her. He would, again and again, think of Emily as the weeks and months rolled by, wondering where she was, what might have happened, had things been different. He would fantasize about her while awake and dream about her while asleep. And he would never give up hope that they might someday meet again in the future… And Doug would wonder about the other “clients” to which Mrs. Warren referred. Who were they? What kind of lives had they lost as their independence inevitably fell to the infantilization industry? And how many other ABs were there out there, blithely entering drugstores and medical supply stores to purchase adult diapers, never suspecting that a Mrs. Sheffield or Mrs. Warren might be waiting to lead them into their own versions of ICPs? Doug never imagined that such diabolical businesses operated behind the walls of the pharmacies where he had bought his diapers. How many other fetishists or ABs would unwittingly follow in his footsteps? Dr. Bryant had, of course, been watching as Doug worked through most of this, but though he wondered, he couldn’t possibly know what he was thinking. He did, however, have a lot of free food waiting for him at the drug luncheon, so he stood and offered Doug his hand. “Good luck,” he said. “You’ve got quite a long road ahead of you.” He couldn’t know how long. He started to leave, and turned just before he opened the door. “Oh, I’m sorry, but of course, I had to tell Mrs. Warren that you gave the nurse some trouble when she tried to take your temp. She didn’t sound too happy to hear that, but she said thank you and to tell you that you’d know what to expect when you got home. Sorry I forgot to tell you before; I guess I got a little distracted. At any rate, come back and see me if I can be of any help to you. Goodbye, Doug.” And he left. Doug did indeed know what to expect. He rubbed his padded bottom in expectation. He could just see Mrs. Warren smiling her all-knowing smile at him when he arrived home. Yes, for the first time in six months, Doug knew exactly what to expect. The End

Author's Note (Read before you read): This is based off of a roleplay between @Nappy_Queen and myself that can be found in the role play section of the forum. I have edited it and updated the descriptions in it to flow well and offer a more detailed view of the story than our rp offers. Please let us know what you think and where you want to see it go. Chapter 1: Janet got home from another day at the office. She worked part time as a secretary in her husband’s company Designated Adventures, a leading company in technology and science. Today her coworker, a young woman in her early twenties, announced she was pregnant. While Janet was happy for the young woman, she was jealous as well. At thirty Janet expected by now she would have started a family. She has been married to her husband for five years now and they had dated since high school. So many times they had argued about starting a family. Her husband always argued it wasn’t the right time, he’s just starting his business, they wouldn’t have time for each other, the excuses went on. She was so tired of arguing with her husband for something that she felt should come easy for them. They were financially stable, had a beautiful home, great friends, a family of their own is all that was missing. Over the last few months Janet had begun to see her husband as selfish. His every concern was what he wanted how changes would affect him. He acted like a child only caring about his wants and needs and her feelings be damned. Janet poured herself a glass of Riesling as she began looking over the current and recently finished projects on her laptop. She flipped through the documents item after item noting progress. She was about to turn off her laptop when she saw a new project was almost complete that she was not aware was on the books. From the looks of it, the device was a gun that could change the size of anything. Suddenly, an idea formed in Janet’s mind. If he won’t give me a baby, maybe he can be one” The project was two weeks from completion giving her plenty of time to prepare and get her plan in motion. Jon was riding high, he had a beautiful wife, great friends, and a company that was driving full steam toward a public stock trade debut in a month. He had planned that after the release of a few of his newest inventions one of which was his most secret project, the size ray. It was just completing animal trials and would be ready for human testing in two weeks. The thirty-one year old was the owner and CEO of the company he had started with his best friend. They stood to make a ton of money when the company went public. He had already made millions while it had been private. Jon drove home in his blue 2021 corvette stingray. He loved having the top down letting the wind whip through his hair . He pulled into the driveway of his beautiful suburban home which was subtle for his wealth. He and his wife liked to keep their extravagance to a minimum. In the back seat he had Asian food for his wife, a token for him being a little later than usual. He knew she would be upset that he stayed late in the office again, but he hoped the takeout would smooth things over. He walked into the kitchen and saw her working on her computer, "working late there my cute secretary?" He spoke in a sexy teasing tone as he walked up to her. The tall six foot one man put down the takeout bag which wafted it alluring smells into the room. "I got you take out from that place you like downtown." Jon smiled as he put his arms around her. "What are you working on?" he asked looking at her computer, but the screen had long since went black as she seemed to want to keep that a secret from her husband. Janet had gone through half the bottle of the sweet white wine before Jon got home. She sighed as he said he got food from the place she liked. She didn't even like Chinese food all that much. He liked it, much like everything these days though that didn't seem to matter to him. She decided once more she would try to talk to him. "Just looking over the projects, everything seems to be on time. There are even a few things ahead of schedule.” She paused choosing her next words carefully. “Did you hear Lynnette, in accounting, is expecting? You'll have to find someone to fill her place when she goes on maternity leave." Janet refilled her glass of wine. “It's exciting don't you think her and her husband are both still young figuring things out but they're going for it full steam ahead. It makes me think about you and I. About us starting a family of our own." "Yea, well that is great for them and I’m so happy that they are going to have a kid. I’m giving both of them leave. I’m sure we can find someone to pick up her hard work, but she did say she wanted to work for about five months into her pregnancy." Jon said sitting next to his wife smiling. "Janet, is this about having kids again?" Jon’s demeanor changed to a more serious one. "You’re being very baby crazy Janet, why is that?" Jon asked, eating some sweet and sour chicken. Janet frowned at his comment. Putting down her glass of wine she stared at him. "Baby crazy? Is it so crazy to want to start a family with the man I've been with since I was a teenager? Is it crazy if I expect you to care about the one thing I care about when I've always prioritized you?!" She stepped away from him infuriated. "Do you not realize we are in our thirties now? While you've got all the time in the world to start a family I don't. I'm on a timer and my biological clock is ticking! How is it you can do so much for everyone else but not me? I always support you in everything." She shook her head, grabbing her wine glass, she finished the contents and put the glass in the sink. "I'm going to bed." Janet didn't even look at him as she left the kitchen to shower and change for bed. She was tired, emotionally and physically drained. He put everything into his business, friends, even his employees. Why can't he just learn he should have put more into their relationship, into hearing and supporting her wants as she did his. Janet thought went into their marble bathroom. Janet had tears rolling down her face as she got into the shower. She cried not out of sadness but frustration. Again he cast aside her feelings about starting a family; he even called her crazy?! Well she'd have to show him just what baby crazy looked like then. She took her shower and changed into a purple satin pajama shorts set. After lotioning her body and brushing her hair Janet shook her head looking at the main door to the master bedroom. In all the time it took her to shower and prepare for bed he still couldn't even bother to come talk to her. She sighed and got into bed. Changes were definitely needed around here. Turns Out she'd lay out her plan to make those changes happen. Janet turned out her bedside lamp leaving their room in pitch dark. Jon sat at the kitchen table, he felt so guilty, “shit, that’s how she feels?” He asked himself as he poked at his orange chicken. He wasn’t hungry anymore, he didn’t want to do anything but be with his beautiful wife. He was worried she would be upset for him coming after her, but he stood up and sighed. Jon walked out of the kitchen, up the stairs, and down the hall toward his and his wife’s bedroom. He slowly opened the door hoping she wouldn’t bite his head off when he opened the door. He braced for the absolute worst. “Janet? Honey?” He asked softly, wary she could be asleep already. He was met with the sound of light snoring from the slightly drunk woman. Jon entered the room before he stood on his wife’s side of the bed looking down at her sleeping. “Honey can we talk?” He whispered at her. It was a Friday night and he was hoping that they would’ve had a nice night drinking wine and beer like they used to a few years ago. He got no reply and he knew that waking his wife up would make things far worse. He just went to the bathroom to brush his teeth and change into his boxers and t-shirt before he got under the covers next to his wife. He wrapped his arms around her and smiled. “Honey I love you, let’s have a kid.” He whispered into her ear. Janet had woken while Jon was moving about the room getting ready for bed. When he whispered that they should have a child she felt happy but also upset. Instead of ignoring him she let out a sigh. "Please, don't just say it to placate me. Then you'll just resent me for it later. I want you to have a child with me because you want to. Because building a family matters to me just as much to you as anything else you've built. Don't just pity me and decide to do it to ease your temporary guilt or as some sort of consolation." Janet loved her husband and wanted to start a family with him more than anything. She'd been in love with him the day they met junior year of high school. Now for him to say let's have a child she knew she should be elated but she felt like it was a sincere gesture but made more to make peace then out of love for her. "Honey, I’m not just trying to placate you. Let's just talk about it. I feel like you're mad at me, don't you like our life together? I promise I’ll be ready to settle down. The company is going public in a few months and we stand to make millions if not billions off of it. That will make our life so comfortable that we can have as many kids as you want." Jon said as he snuggled up to her and felt himself getting turned on by the heat of her body and the smell of her moisturizer. "I will make a baby with you when you feel like it's right." He said as he kissed her shoulder and then her neck. "I love you sweetie. I just want to make our lives comfortable." Jon said even though he knew the company was all set to go public with or without him. He had his best friend on it and he knew he wouldn't screw him. Mason was his best friend since elementary school and they both stood to make tons of money with the public offering. Janet sighed. "I enjoy our life together but I want more. I want to raise a family with you. I want to carry your children and watch our children grow and teach them with you. How much more comfortable does our life need to be? We have a beautiful home, nice cars, our bills are paid, and we have a decent savings. The company goes public within the month. Having more money doesn't make us more prepared for a child than we are now." She moaned softly when he kissed her neck. Thirteen years together he knew just where to kiss her to excite her. "You've given the company of your time and attention for the last nine years. Mason can take care of things for a bit. It's time to put all your energy into us. Into building something here at home." "I will honey, I love you and I want to help raise our child. I just am not sure how I can be ready. You are clearly the more parental parent than I am." He said smiling as he heard her moan when he kissed her just below her ear. Works every time, he thought to himself as he used his hand to slip under her nightgown and massage her breast. He was in the mood and he was going to have sex with his beautiful wife. He knew there was a condom in the top drawer of his night stand but what he didn't know was that Janet had used a pin to poke a few holes in it. He also was not aware that she was off the pill. "Honey, how about we revisit this after we go public? I know it's hard but it's just another month or two. After that I can focus on you, and starting a family together. Then I will also maybe know how to properly raise a kid, that's something you seem to know a lot about." He massaged her nipple, "how about we relax and enjoy each other?" Janet relaxed under his touch as he massaged her breast. She nodded her head. "Mmmm fine one month." She kissed him on the lips as she gently placed a hand to his cheek. "I won't wait even a day longer so you'd better be prepared." She smiled as she slid her other hand into his boxers taking hold of his hard shaft. "Now make love to me." She kissed him as she stroked his shaft up and down slowly. She knew her husband would reach for his condom. Just like she knew he would never think to check it for holes. Janet was done waiting and doing everything on his time. She was off her birth control and currently ovulating. They would start their family tonight whether he knew it or not. Jon grabbed the condom from the drawer in his bedside table not checking for holes he put it on and smiled. “Who’s your daddy?” He asked as he whispered into her ear. Janet smiled for tonight he could be be daddy. Soon enough he'd be calling her mommy and she'd have another baby on the way. Just the thought of the changes to come excited her. Janet was passionate in her lovemaking giving everything to her husband. It would be the last time he had sex for some time so she wanted it to be mind blowing. The sex was passionate, Jon loved having sex with his wife. She was wild and so hot and she loved being filled by him especially when she felt the condom fail to hold back all of the load. Jon didn’t know but she did, soon she would be pregnant and have another baby in diapers. Jon slumped over in bed and fell asleep almost right away. He softly spoke, “I love you my Janney bean.” She cuddled into him as they lay naked. As he drifted off to sleep she smiled and kissed his cheek. "I love you too baby". Two weeks later… Janet smiled as she received a locked briefcase from the labs. One email through her husband's account stating she would be picking up the size ray for him to do testing off-site and it was in her possession. Jon had said they would start a family, but after thirteen years she knew him. He would find excuse after excuse to put off what she wanted. He'd done so multiple times over the years. For the last two weeks she had been getting things ready at home. Jon never inquired or showed interest when she redecorated. She was certain he hoped her home design projects would keep their discussion off her mind. Nothing could be further from the truth. Janet pored over the notes on the ray and its use until she had it memorized. She had redecorated one of the guest bedrooms turning it into a nursery for a baby boy. Now with the ray gun in her possession she had everything in place. As usual Jon worked late. It gave Janet ample time to get everything in place. Jon had been crazy busy at work, he had forgotten about the deal with his wife to start a family. His size ray was about to start human trials as they had successfully shrunk and regrown lab rats. They also had doubled the rat in size safely giving him confidence that it would work well. He and Mason were also going to use the size ray's success to announce their public stock options. They were also getting ready with age freezing serum that was about to enter human trials too. Together they were going to make billions of dollars. With a successful day behind Jon drove home in his red mustang parking it in the garage. He went right to the kitchen to prepare dinner when he saw the bottle of pink perfume he had bought Janet for her birthday with a note next to it. Hey Handsome, you've been working hard. Get undressed and come to the guest room across the hall from our bedroom. Tonight I'm going to take care of you. He smiled as he looked down at the note. He felt himself getting turned on under his pants. Oh Janet, I love you, He thought to himself as he put down the perfume and started to walk back to the front hall before he went up the stairs to their room. He walked into his closet and threw his clothes on the ground and grabbed a condom. So, she has been working on a sex room, my wife has a wild side. He thought to himself as he walked across the hallway completely nude. He flung open the door and said, "daddy's home baby." Then he paused looking around the room. It was not what he expected at all, it was a baby's room. It seemed to be made for a baby boy, but he also saw some girl things sprinkled about. There was a crib with a mobile of trains swinging around in a circle. There was a changing table with pampers cruisers diapers packs that has Sesame Street prints. There were toys on the floor and the walls were pictures of trains, he loved trains. Next to the changing table holding a diaper and his size gun was Janet and she seemed to look a little taller than her normal five foot frame too. "Honey? What is this?" He asked his mouth going dry as little beads of sweat formed on his neck. He also felt his member begin to harden a little seeing his taller wife. Rather than give him time to run or ask questions she pulled the trigger. A bright ray pf light emitted from the gun and flew across the room at Jon. The ray hit Jon as he looked shocked and confused asking about the nursery. Before her eyes Jon began to shrink inch by inch. Her once six foot tall husband shrunk down to her height. Then the height of the crib. Still she kept the ray trained on him. Down he went getting smaller and smaller. Finally she released the trigger and turned off the ray gun. There before her eyes naked was her husband the size of an infant. Janet smiled as she walked over to Jon and picked him up. Jon was in shock, he had not moved the entire time she was shrinking him and he forgot that she seemed taller than before. He had watched as she and the world around him grew bigger and bigger until he was maybe two feet tall, maybe smaller. He was scared. He could now be manhandled by his nieces and nephews and they weren't even out of pull-ups. He had no clue but when Janet walked over and picked him up he almost peed himself. "It's okay baby mommies got you. This is your new room mommy worked very hard on." She carried him to the changing table. Moving the shrink ray to one of the drawers she laid him on the changing table fastening the safety belt over his chest. Jon’s shock wore off when the restraining buckle on the changing table was fastened. His arms were pinned to his sides which was exactly what Janet wanted. . "Now let's get you changed and ready for dinner." Janet raised Jon's legs and he'd feel the cool baby wipes as she wiped his bottom and little pee pee. Janet hummed as she set about getting Jon into his first diaper. "My new room? Mommy? What are you talking about? Janet Megan Smith you change me back right now!" He yelled using her maiden name. He was red with embarrassment and anger and jumped as the first cold wipe hit his penis which seemed to be smaller than normal even given his smaller size. He looked down as his wife's massive hands moved so easily over his body wiping it down. He then watched as a giant razor was used to clean his hair off before she cooed and got a diaper. The diaper looked huge to him and on the front of it was a smiling Elmo that seemed to be mocking him as she held it close to his face. "I’m not wearing a diaper Janet. I am your husband not a baby!" Jon said as he looked into the eyes of Elmo and then up at his giant wife who seemed to take up the entire space above the changing table. She looked like a heavenly angel from this angle. Her blonde hair was pulled back into a bun and her blue eyes were soft but determined. Despite her looks he was scared of her even with her light smile he was still shrunk being put in a pampers diaper on a giant changing table. Janet couldn't help but chuckle add he fussed on the changing table. She couldn't take him seriously even calling hey by her full maiden name. "My aren't you cranky my little prince. I think sometime is ready for din din and off to bed." Janet laid the diaper under his bottom and sprinkled his bottom with baby powder she gently rubbed it into his skin. Lowering his legs Jon would feel the padding of the diaper under his bum as she powdered his crotch. Satisfied he was well powdered she pulled the diaper up between her fussy babies legs and fastened the tapes closed around him. "There we go isn't that better pumpkin?" The diaper was soft and comforting as it was wrapped up covering his smaller penis. He had watched the slightly hard penis disappear behind Elmo's smiling face. Jon continued to squirm and fuss on the changing table. Janet looked at him, her tone was gentle but firm. "Now Jon that's quite enough of that. If you continue all this fussing mommy will give you a warm bottom so you have a reason to be so fussy". He instantly stopped squirming at her threat. He looked up at her as she unbuckled him from the changing table. "Janet, you have to stop this now, please I am your husband not a baby who needs to have a pampers diaper." He said pointing to the diaper. Janet took out a blue onesie with a firetruck on it after getting his head through she released the strap so she could get his arms in and pull the onesie down snapping it closed at his crotch, the pamper crinkling in response. Janet picked Jon up and cradled him in her arms unhappy with the firetruck as he preferred a train. He hoped his wife didn't see his reaction as she picked him up. "Is my little prince ready for dinner?" She cooed to him as she carried him out of the nursery toward the kitchen. "I ate coming home," he lied as she looked at him holding him close to her ample breasts. He was again looking up at her gentle face feeling himself getting hard in the diaper as she walked toward the kitchen. Janet sighed as she got to the kitchen and set Jon into a blue and red highchair. "It's not good to lie to mommy. You and I both know you came straight home from work." Janet took a white bib with a teddy bear on it from the counter drawer and fastened it around his neck. He blushed as he was caught in the lie, it was like she was a mom and he was a kid who had been caught. He could not believe he didn’t even notice the high chair when he walked in from the garage. He shook his head and spoke. "Sweetie is this because I didn't want to give you a baby? I will be happy to put one in you right now please just make me big again. I can't be seen like this!" He said as he moved around in the highchair trying to escape. He watched his giant wife move around the kitchen. She took out two jars of Gerber baby food and emptied them into a plastic bowl and warmed it in the microwave. Jon’s mouth dropped open as she did this. He couldn’t believe this was real. He felt himself feel sick as she warmed them looking over at him. To make things worse he felt his bladder ask to be released. When the food was at the right temperature she sat down in a chair in front of him stirring the food. He watched her as she approached sitting in a chair and was still taller than him in the high chair sitting down. "I know you're feeling very confused right now so mommy will talk and you will be a good baby, eat your food, and listen okay?" “Talk? Janet, let’s talk when I am bigger and not in a dia..” he tried to finish his sentence when the first scoop of baby mush was put into his mouth by his wife/mommy. It tasted like the food after he had chewed it chicken, carrots, and peas all in one scoop with the plastic blue spoon with a steam engine on it. He wanted to close his mouth but she just kept shoving food in. He tried to keep up but it started to dribble down his chin onto the teddy bib. "For a long time you have been putting all your focus into the company. So much so that you neglected to put any of your attention here at home unless it directly affected your concerns." Janet sighed and continued feeding him the baby food. "For a long time I went along with everything putting my wants aside. You kept taking what I give you for granted. You felt you could make all the decisions for our future and I should be happy and go along. In a relationship, a healthy relationship, the wants and needs of both people are taken into account. Both people plan their future together. For all your smarts you couldn't seem to work that bit out hmm?" She was talking about how he wasn’t listening to her and how he was not being a good husband. She had a point, but shrinking him and making him wear diapers was too far. Therapy would have seemed more logical in his mind. “I did know that, I thought you liked it when I took control.” He tried to respond to her last sentence but it sounded like it was garbled from all the food in his mouth. She probably had understood him but he looked silly for sure. He looked up at his wife as he swallowed then was about to repeat himself when he felt his bladder as again. "Okay, Janet lets talk about this later. I need to pee." He said looking at her expecting her to react or let him out. Janet chuckled, he looked like quite the messy baby. He had food on his bib dribbling from his mouth. "Yes, you have your diaper on sweetie so you can go pee pee while you finish your dinner." She cooed to him as she fed him another mouthful of the baby food. "There is a difference between taking control, making things happen for both parties to be happy, and taking control to ensure that your specific wants and needs are met and your partner just having to go with it." She smiled as he squirmed in the highchair fighting his bladder. "I tried many times to talk to you but you just cast my concerns aside. Then two weeks ago you had the audacity to call me baby crazy," She chuckled. "That's when I realized you weren't going to learn. Sure you said we'd start a family but you didn't mean it. I bet you haven't given it a single thought since that night right? You said you aren't ready to be a dad. So now instead you can be a brother." She smiled placing a hand to her flat belly. "You see, I took your feelings into consideration. I wanted to start a family you don't want to be a dad so I'll raise our family and you can be a good sibling instead of a daddy." Her last words hit like a pile of bricks. Forget the diaper, forget the mushy food in his mouth; his wife was pregnant and he was going to have to be the brother instead of dad. He looked up at her and felt tears forming in his eyes. He was now struggling against his bladder and his eyes. Jon lost the battle against both. A hissing sound was heard as she let her final words hang in the air. She knew what was happening in his mind and in his pamper. The diaper under his onesie started to get warm as his penis released its full bladder. Tears rolled down his eyes as she used the words he used to weasel out of having a kid against him. There he was crying in a wet pamper in a high chair with baby food in his mouth and down his chin. He felt helpless and that was exactly what Janet wanted. "But mommy... I want to be a daddy not a baby brother." He said sniffling as the tears kept flowing as did the pee. She used his bib to wipe his face clear of baby food. "Goodness your fussy tonight. My baby boy needs milk and beddy bye." Taking the dirty bib off him Janet picked up her crying baby. "You’re much too little to be a daddy pumpkin. Mommy wants you to be a good baby brother and maybe when you're grown up you can be a daddy". She carried him to the nursery and laid a baby blanket on the changing table. Janet made quick work of changing Jon's wet diaper and getting him powdered and into a dry one. His diaper changed, Janet used the baby blanket he was on to swaddle him. She held him in her arms as she sat in the rocking chair. "Hush now baby time for milk". He began to calm down as she sat down in the rocking chair. "Janet I am sorry please let me be the daddy to my kid, please I am sorry I learned my lesson." He said as he watched his wife pull out her breasts which were dripping with none other than breast milk. Janet had been taking another invention of the company, a supplement to encourage milk production in the breast for wet nurses. She opened her top and unclipped the cup of her nursing bra. Jon’s mouth went dry and hung open as she smiled. He had always been a boob man even if her ass was fine her breasts were amazing not to mention that now they had grown because of the milk production. Jon let the massive nipple go in his mouth. Instantly, milk started to flow and to not drown he had to swallow the sweet milk that tasted amazing. It was more fatty than he imagined but it tasted so good. Janet smiled gently rocking as her baby husband nursed from her. He seemed to settle down almost immediately when presented with her full milky breast. He kept drinking but in the middle Janet popped him off her left boob and to her right where he kept drinking. He felt his belly fill and he got a small gut from it. He felt safe and warm and had calmed down. He looked up at her as he unlatched full. "Honey, I am sorry." He said as milk dribbled out of his mouth. He had an erection in his diaper which was hidden by the diaper and the blanket. He felt lethargic like one feels after eating too much turkey at thanksgiving dinner. He let out a small burp and a yawn. He tried to think straight and tried to say something to his wife but it all came out as what Janet could best describe as a toddler's ramblings or a drunk man's slurred speech. There was something in there about him wanting to be a daddy and him being a grown up. He didn't say any bad words but he was not happy about being small. That was obvious. At the end of his rant as Janet was putting back in her bra he felt himself get another small boner in the diaper. He also said something that surprised Janet, her shrunken baby husband said something about his pampers being comfy. He looked up at her and smiled. Janet smiled back at him, she could tell he was in a losing battle wanting to talk but being full and warm making him sleepy. Janet was surprised when Jon stated his diaper was comfy. She smiled kissing his forehead as she lay him in his crib snugly wrapped in the soft warm baby blanket. To Janet it seemed maybe this transition wouldn't be so hard for him after all. Jon wanted to fight, he wanted to stop his wife from stripping away everything, but he just simply couldn’t. The crib’s mattress felt like it was made out of memory foam. Janet turned on the train mobile above his crib which played a soft lullaby as the plush steam trains rotated above him. As the trains started to rotate above him he drifted off to sleep like a baby. He didn’t even hear her turn on the baby monitor and night light before turning off the lights to the nursery. "Goodnight baby boy sweet dreams". Janet closed the nursery door and hummed as she went to her bedroom to relax for the evening. Janet could hardly believe how well everything went. She picked up her iPhone and called Mason. "Everything went as expected. Effective tomorrow you will be the face of the company. You were right about the breast feeding he settled down quickly when I left him to nurse and went right to sleep". She laughed pleased with how everything was going. "I'll wait a few days, let him adjust, then we'll come by the office so you and I can iron out the finer details." She ended the call and ran herself a hot bath relaxing thinking about the wonderful future she had before her. -End of Chapter 1

IT: Infant Tech By Horatio Husky Commissioned by Bolt Chapter 1: The Office Bolt readjusted his glasses. This was a nervous habit of his, which he would perform with relative frequency whenever he was working with unruly code. Sat in front of his desk, garbed in his normal office attire of dress shirt, black dress pants, classy shoes, and stylish bowtie, the husky was deeply immersed within the contents of his computer screen. The husky’s office cubicle was relatively orderly; a Newton's cradle and Rubik’s Cube served as the only available knick-knacks. The husky knew full well that too much desk clutter was a prime environment for distraction. Sometimes, however, a little distraction was necessary to allow his mind to wander just far enough for him to be able to get some perspective. He had been staring at his computer screen for about two hours straight at that point, and despite the blue light filter in his glasses he could feel his warm, brown eyes beginning to dry up just a little bit. A semicolon… really… that was the error? A sense of weariness suddenly overcame the husky. Moving his right paw, he delicately stroked his keyboard a few times until he had typed in the correction to his code. Bolt leaned back in his chair. He pulled down softly on his one droopy ear, another habit he often performed when deep in coding contemplation. Unseen, conveniently hidden in the break room by drawn blinds, two felines stood holding respective mugs of coffee. A caracal and tiger, the two giant cat species had their attention focused on the husky through a break in the blinds which the tiger held slightly open with an extended claw. Yuri’s had a singular protracted claw, his other paw holding the mug of joe in his paw with a firm, confident grip. Cinder, on the other hand, appeared to be every semblance of calm, cool, and collected. He lounged leisurely against the countertop, gazing down the bridge of his nose at the same husky that had just now caught his feline companion’s attention. “Another office crush, Yuri?” Withdrawing his gaze momentarily from gazing between the break in the blinds, the tiger gave the caracal his best withering look. Which, coming from a tiger, is quite an intimidating experience. The desert cat was left unphased, however, as he had been at the end of such an unflattering glance more often than not. Idly, he took a sip from his coffee mug and cocked his head to the side, his long, pointed ears flopping to the side dramatically. “Oh don’t look so grumpy, kitty cat. Shall I bring out the ball of yarn so you can feel better?” Yuri, who had grown used to the unwavering confidence that the caracal seemed to have a true abundance of, chose to ignore the comment and turn his attention back to staring at the husky. From his vantage point, he could see that the husky appeared to be well distracted and in the midst of work. Having only recently quit his temping position at the company, the husky was now able to exercise his full work ethic with the accompaniment of financial compensation. At this rate, he would be employee of the month in no time. Yuri’s golden, feline eyes pierced through the husky with a predator-like ferocity. Something inside of the tiger told him that not all was what it seemed with the newest member of IT. It was while Cinder was idly browsing through his phone, disappointed that he was unable to get a rise out of his tiger friend when Yuri gasped. Cinder knew this was important. Deftly placing his mug of coffee on the counter he pushed himself off the counter in a quiet, controlled leap landing right next to the tiger. “What is it?” He whispered softly, his feline instincts kicking in as the two cats’ slitted eyes narrowed as they gazed at the oblivious canine. Bolt sighed, stood up, and turned around to pick up a small laptop on the desk behind him. As he did so, an uncharacteristically large bulge in his rear end pressed against the seam of his pants. Cinder’s mouth dropped wide open, an uncharacteristically surprised face coloring the feline’s sharp, noble features. Yuri simply smiled, chuckling softly under his breath which came as a deep rumble inside of the massive cat’s throat. He spoke under his breath. “We got ourselves another one…” “This is the second one this month! How do they keep falling into our paws like this?” Yuri shook his head, a gratified smile across his muzzle as he placed a heavy, reassuring paw on the smaller cat’s shoulder. “Alright, like we did last time. I’ve still got the carseat set up and he looks pretty gullible. I think we’ll be having some good fun tonight, kitten.” Cinder blushed slightly towards the end of the tiger’s comment, knowing full well what the larger cat was referring to. It wasn’t so long ago that he had been the subject of the tiger’s cleverly designed trap. Yuri turned around, in a series of purposeful movements he drained the remainder of his coffee into the sink before depositing his mug on the dirtied dish rack. Taking out his car keys, he placed them on the countertop before departing. His striped tail floating majestically behind him, the muscular feline shouldered his way through the door of the office kitchenette and made his way over to the husky’s cubicle. Cinder had picked up the car keys, slyly lowering them into his pocket before silently exiting after the tiger, making his way towards the building’s garage level. The image of confidence, Yuri loomed over the husky casting a shadow over him. Bolt took quick notice of this, and turned around in his seat to gaze up frightfully at the intimidating fur in front of him, blinking several times. “Uhm… Can I-” “Yes, you can. I’m Yuri. It’s a pleasure to meet you.” The cat extended a massive paw towards the husky. Bolt, recovering quickly, smiled in kind and took it on his own, giving it a firm squeeze as he replied with a clarity in his voice that took even him by surprise. “Hi Yuri, I’m Bolt. The pleasure is all mine.” Confident little scrappy mutt, isn’t he? Ohhh I like him… This should be fun! Yuri’s smile broadened, now feeling a sense of genuine delight at having witnessed a confident introduction accompanied by a firm handshake. He didn’t much like wimps, even though he did enjoy putting them in their place. Cinder had shown significantly less bravado than the canine in front of him, and only after he had discovered the truth behind the tiger’s intentions did he warm up. No, this pup has spunk! It’ll be even more fun to see him crawl now… Still smiling, the tiger motioned with a jerk of his head towards the elevator that led to the garage level below. “Bolt, I’ve got a few computer towers in my car that I worked on over the weekend. I really would have no trouble transporting them myself, but if you come along it’ll only take one trip. How about we use it as an excuse to take a break from work with a little aerobic exercise and a friendly chat, hmm?” Understanding quickly, Bolt nodded and smiled congenially. Closing down his computer, he stood up and nodded indicating that the tiger should lead the way. Yuri turned, and began to make his way towards the elevator. Glancing back briefly, to ensure that Bolt was coming along. Given the size of the cat, Bolt had to take a step and a half for every step the tiger took. The subtle waddle the husky was unconsciously exhibiting slightly was now more apparent. Suspicions confirmed, the tiger turned to face forward with a look of satisfaction on his muzzle. “It’ll be the grey minivan, the company likes its Chrystlers.” Yuri spoke, his tone a low rumble as the two entered the elevator and the tiger pressed a button marked ‘G’ while Bolt nodded in response. The two stood silently in the elevator, waiting patiently for the lift to descend down to the parking garage several levels beneath the ground floor. The company building itself was relatively massive, sporting fourteen proud stories above and three below. The two were stationed on the fifth floor, so the descent was relatively brief. Ding! The elevator doors opened to reveal rows of sparsely populated parking spots, the smell of concrete with a hint of car exhaust hitting their nostrils as Yuri led the way. “I’m parked towards the back.” He stated simply, his smirk hidden behind his turned back as he heard the husky behind him pick up speed to keep pace with him. Everything is running smoothly… “Alright, take a look at what I’ve got here for you!” Speaking confident, he opened the passenger side door with a flourish to reveal what was inside. It took Bolt a moment to process what he was seeing. In front of him appeared to be a baby’s carseat, except no ordinary one. This particular seat looked large enough to comfortably seat him, with an impressively robust five point harness that looked as if not even Yuri would be able to break through it. Stunned, the husky stood open mouthed for a few seconds while he tried to process what he was looking at. This was exactly the opportunity that Yuri and Cinder were looking for. “Now, before we get you snuggly buckled up for your car ride little guy, let’s check something really quick.” Unable to react in time, Yuri placed his hands underneath the husky’s armpits and raised him up effortlessly. Taken by surprise, Bolt let out a whimper while his legs dangled helplessly behind him. As suddenly as he had been picked up, he felt something fiddling with the front of his belt buckle. Twisting around, his cheeks burning bright red, he was able to catch a glimpse of the Caracal he had seen wandering around the office earlier trying to undo his pants. At last he succeeded accompanied by an exclamation. “Aha! There we are.” His pants now around his ankles, Bolt’s choice of underwear that morning was now on full display for both of the large cats to examine. “Just as I thought, we have a little puppy on our hands.” Yuri stated, a condescending but not unkindly tone in his voice. Bolt was now blushing furiously, his tail curled between his legs in a vain attempt to hide the large, white diaper that hugged his waist snuggly. It was apparent to both of the onlookers that it was designed with both comfort and absorbance in mind, as a trail of puppy paws ran from the front middle all the way through the back. “You won’t be needing these, I don’t think.” As Bolt spluttered, an overwhelming feeling of helplessness and smallness washing over him as he continued to be held up in the air, Cinder delicately disentangled his pants from his ankles. Now, he wore only his work shirt and sneakers, which made him feel incredibly exposed. The tiger looked him up and down, an expression of approval across his muzzle while Cinder neatly folded the husky’s pants and placed them under his right arm. “Cinder, do me the favor of checking the puppy’s diaper, would you?” At the direct mention of his padding, the husky’s ears folded against the top of his head. Tail tucked between his legs, cheeks burning, and ears pinned, the canine was the spitting image of an utterly flustered pup. Grinning, Cinder placed an authoritative paw over the front of the dog’s thick padding, squeezing gently before cupping the back in turn. Pressing it upwards, as if to further remind Bolt of what he was wearing, the caracal shook his head as he replied. “Still dry, surprisingly enough,” Cinder commented. “Well then, I think we should do something about that,” said Yuri, giving the husky a large, toothy smile before depositing him into the oversized booster seat. “W-wait a second! I一mmpf!” Bolt, having finally been able to find his voice, barely managed to splutter out a complete sentence before he was silenced by Cinder, who had apparently been waiting for such a moment. Crossing his eyes, Bolt looked down to see what had interrupted his exclamation while Cinder tightened something behind his head. His vision obscured by the caracal’s red-orange fur, the husky only became aware that he had been fully buckled into the carseat when he felt the harness tighten over his shoulders, waist, and onto the front of his diaper pressing it up against him. The husky’s heart was now beating quickly, limbs flailing. As if in anticipation of this, Yuri swiftly grabbed each of his wrists and looped them through soft, padded cuffs. His wrists now suspended by his head, his arms held upwards in an incredibly vulnerable position, he found that he was no longer able to struggle as effectively as before. Cinder had grabbed his ankles and pulled them through a similar set of cuffs that prevented him from raising his ankles more than a few inches away from the bottom of the carseat. Both cats stepped back and took a moment to admire their handiwork. Bolt looked down to see what they had done to him, a lock glowed softly from a small panel that served as the center-point for all of the buckles. From what the husky could gather, the locking mechanism appeared to be activated by a touchscreen, the key to which he was sure was possessed only by the two felines in front of him. “Aww, I think he looks pretty cute! That pacifier won’t let much more than a whimper through, pup. So you can whine all you want on the ride home!” Cinder extended a wiry arm forward, gently booping the tip of the husky’s snoot. Yuri appeared pleased as well, his arms crossed and looking down at the incapacitated fur as if he were appraising a prized possession. Speaking softly, and without breaking his gaze at the pup, he placed a car key into Cinder’s paws. “Yes, I think he does. Take the highway, kitten.” It was Cinder’s turn to blush, which he barely managed to conceal as he lowered his vision and nodded, opening the door next to Bolt’s and sitting himself down in front of the wheel. Moving with the impressive display of control that all large cats appeared to inherently possess, Yuri sat down in the seat next to Cinder's, looking back at Bolt in the rear view mirror. “I encourage you to behave, puppy. This will be fun.” With that statement hanging in the air, Cinder pulled out of the parking garage and had merged into city traffic within a few minutes. Bolt was still trying to process what had just happened to him. The two cats had seemingly quickly found out about his little secret before he had had the chance to react. He was now pacified, gagged, restrained, and being transported to who-knows-where. Despite himself, to make matters even worse, he was beginning to feel himself become aroused at the restrictive tightness that five-point harness seemed to impose on the front of his padding. Wrapping over his shoulder, with three straps ensuring that his waist and diaper were snuggly pressed against him, there seemed to be no hope of escape. He was completely at the mercy of the felines sitting in the front seats of the car. The car ride passed in silence, Bolt pulled helplessly at the restraints holding his limbs hostage but to no avail. Yuri would occasionally look up in the rearview mirror, Bolt could see that his eyes were wrinkled as if he were smiling, hidden from view from the husky’s limited line of sight. Whatever the tiger was thinking, it was causing him great pleasure.

Room and Board Introduction: This is a story I wrote in 1995, which explains the references to the yellow pages and the glaring lack of cell phones or the internet. It's dark, and loving only in a twisted non-consensual kind of way, so be forewarned. All characters are fictional and meant to be over age 18. Chapter 1 It had seemed like an ideal situation: reasonable rent, near the campus, well-furnished. It only had a few drawbacks. It was just a room in some lady's house, so there was a relative lack of privacy. And the lady seemed a bit odd. Mrs. Williams was in her late fifties, he thought, and there wasn't anything he could put his finger on, but her whole attitude seemed just a little off-kilter. She seemed concerned about things most people quietly ignored. Near the end of Derek’s first visit, for example, she had asked, out of the blue and suspiciously, if he wet the bed. Shocked and a little insulted, he stammered a denial. But she'd just looked at him, as though she didn't quite believe him. And she'd said that she wouldn't rent to a bedwetter, and she showed him a clause in the lease to prove it. He wasn't worried, as he'd never wet his bed that he could remember. But he certainly thought it strange. Everything else about the room, Derek decided, however, was pretty good, and with such a housing shortage in this small college town, he was happy to find an opening on such short notice. The deal included no meals, although he was invited to cook for himself. He agreed to some nominal chores around the house to knock a few bucks off the rent each month. As he signed the lease, he thought about the upcoming year, hoping it would be everything he'd expected. Even into the second week of classes, the decision seemed wise. No one other than the lady lived there, and since he spent most of his time at class or in his room, he didn't run into the lady too often. She didn't work outside the home, but she apparently had an odd schedule. She had friends she visited, and referred to some volunteer work. He never knew when she might be home. But in general, he was happy to have a quiet place to live and study. If he was annoyed about the plastic mattress cover on the bed, he decided he wouldn’t make a big deal about it. He wondered what previous tenant had made her so single-mindedly worried. One day near the end of the second week Derek came home from classes to find her in his bedroom, pulling the sheets off of his bed. He knocked quietly on the open door to let her know he was there. "I didn't know laundry service was included," he said, smiling, putting his books on a chair. Mrs. Williams whirled around to face him, an angry look on her face. Derek stepped back, alarmed at her sudden movement. "I thought you said you weren't a bedwetter," she snapped. "I'm not," he said. This was true. He had never wet his bed. "Look at these sheets. What do you call that?" She held up a sopping wet sheet. He moved closer to see. As he leaned toward the sheet she held, he could see that, yes, there was certainly a large yellowish stain. And--ugh--it smelled of urine. But how? While Derek tried to recall waking up in a wet bed that morning, Mrs. Williams kept talking. "Do you have any idea how much a mattress costs?" she asked rhetorically. "I should have known: you *look* like a bedwetter, that's what the neighbors said. I should never have let you stay here. Oh, dear! I hope the waterproofing held!" She pulled back the wet sheet to reveal the plastic mattress cover, which seemed to have kept the mattress safe. "Oh, thank goodness. It held this time." She turned back to him. "What have you got to say for yourself?" "I...I...don't remember doing that," he murmured, intensely embarrassed about the whole incident and the fuss she was making. He could not remember waking up and thinking anything was amiss. Yet he could hardly deny those sheets; he couldn't explain it other than that he must have blocked it out of his memory. "But I'm really sorry." "Don't forget that this was a condition of the lease!" she told him, shaking her finger. "I should throw you out of here right now.” Derek’s head starting buzzing. That would be terrible. He looked around desperately. Where would he go? But then she appeared to calm down a little and, seeing his distress, sighed. “I'll give you a choice," she said. She rolled the sheet up and set it on the floor by the door, then sat on the bed. "There are two ways to resolve this. One, you pack up and get out right this minute. But I’m sure you'll have trouble getting another room with the poor referral I'll have to give you. In this small town, leaving my house might very well be the same as leaving college; I can't think of any openings at all, much less for a bedwetter. No one wants to open their home up to that kind of abuse." He started to panic as he realized she was probably right. It had been luck, he thought, to stumble on this nice place. Since the college had underestimated acceptances, the dorms were full and every house in town was occupied. What could he do? "Or two," Mrs. Williams continued with a hint of a smile, "we do things Mama's way." This made Derek slightly uncomfortable. Again he thought, she sure is weird. But he didn't really have much of a choice. He at least had to hear her out. So he, too, sat down, hearing the crinkling of the mattress cover. "And what would that be?" "I want you to be able to stay here, but I also want to be able to make sure the bed stays completely dry. How does that sound to you?" He wasn't sure. "Okay, I guess," he replied hesitantly. She paused. "Good. Then you'll see the wisdom in wearing some protection. You see, even with the plastic sheet on the bed, we still have the wet sheets with which to deal every day. No, this is really the only way." He didn't have any idea what she was talking about. Wearing protection? A condom? What the heck? When he didn't say anything, she continued. "It'll only be at night, of course. I could see that you might find it embarrassing. But you could also see it as very appropriate to use an infantile solution for an infantile problem," she rambled on, and he began to get the picture. She saw a look of horror pass over his face, and knew he'd caught on. Her tone of voice told him she wasn't kidding, but Derek couldn't believe she was suggesting what he thought she was. "You can't mean..." She nodded, her face serious as stone. "Yes. It's your choice: you can wear diapers to bed, or you can try to find another landlord's bed to soil. You pick." He stared at the floor, stunned at her absurd proposal. Would she really toss him out? A quick glance at her face was enough to convince him that she would, probably in a heartbeat. And then what would he do? He hardly knew this small town… He felt his face flush red as he realized he'd have to take her up on her offer. He cleared his throat nervously and looked up toward her, though he couldn't meet her stare. "How, uh, long would...*this* go on?" he asked her without emotion, trying to remain distant and seem unaffected. "Forever, of course," she said. And then quickly, "While you're in *this* house, I mean. You think about it, but if you're still here tonight, I'll take that as an agreement to stay. In that case, come tell me when you're ready to go to bed, and we'll get you all set up." She smiled and stood, then turned back before she felt. "Otherwise, feel free to use my yellow pages to book a hotel room, which is probably all you could find. Don't really know what you'd do with your stuff, though. Well, that's not my problem. Either way, get those smelly wet sheets in the washer immediately, or all bets are off and I confiscate your deposit." She left. He spent a little while sitting in silence as he stared at the bed. How could he live with himself for doing such a silly thing? It was embarrassing enough to have wet the bed, but then to be caught and have to be diapered was even worse. How grown-up he'd thought he was coming to college! And then this accident, the most infantile, embarrassing thing that had ever happened to him. But what choice did he have now? He'd paid rent for this month, and he hardly had cash to be throwing around, even if he could find another place that would allow a "bedwetter," since it appeared that this was what he was. No, he'd have to sleep in this bed for a while, at least until the end of the month, when his rent was due. Perhaps by then he could find another place. He washed his sheets, the whole time trying in vain to remember when he'd wet his bed. He must have repressed it, he thought. And the whole thing must have been due to the stress of starting college. Damnedest luck, though, to start wetting his bed now, in this woman's house, of all places. Now he had to go through this embarrassing ordeal. After dinner and studying, he nervously approached her as she sat reading. "I'm, um, ready to go to bed now." "Ah," she said, getting up. "You'll want your diaper then, right?" "Right," he murmured, blushing. She disappeared into her bedroom, and he heard the sound of a package being ripped open. She returned not long thereafter carrying a large, white, disposable diaper, which she extended to him and which he hesitantly took. Mrs. Williams indicated the bathroom, saying, "You may change in there; for now we'll see how you do by yourself. I've left some baby powder by the sink for your comfort, and I'd advise you to use it, since it can get pretty hot under the plastic of your diaper. I'll also tell you now that I've left some baby wipes for your use in the morning if you should need them.” She smiled at him. “One more thing: be sure to use the toilet before you put the diaper on. I’ll explain in a moment, but you won't be able to use the toilet again until the morning. Come out when you've finished and we'll take it from there. And just yell if you need help in there," she said, still smiling. Instead of being reassuring, it was a little creepy to him. He turned without saying a word, since he could think of nothing appropriate to say. He entered the bathroom and locked the door behind him, immediately setting down his diaper and then heading for and using the toilet. What was that all about, he wondered as he urinated. Bathroom "restriction" hadn't been part of the bargain. He could understand the necessity of the diaper, but how did it help for him not to use the bathroom? He'd obviously have to ask about that in a minute. He returned to the sink near the door, picked up his diaper, and briefly considered using the powder before he rejected this idea. It smelled like babies, and he didn't want to be reminded of how infantile this whole thing was every time he took a breath. So next he took off his shoes, undid and removed his jeans, and pulled his boxers down and off. He was ready, he guessed. Derek stared at the diaper on the sink counter, then picked it up and tried to discern how it was supposed to be put on. He hadn't ever babysat, had no younger siblings, and couldn't remember his own diaper usage from his childhood, so he was working entirely from scratch. He opened it up, correctly surmised the purpose of the tapes, but saw that the tapes could be fastened either in the front or the back. He tried to slip it through his legs as he stood there in front of the mirror, but he had no luck. He needed more hands. It was only once he'd sat down on it that he realized the tapes had to fasten in front for him to put it on himself at all, since he couldn't reach the back like that. He actually managed to get it on properly, which was a relief. The last thing he wanted was for Mrs. Williams to have to help him. He didn’t want to feel any more like a baby. After he stood up, Derek readjusted the tapes so the diaper wouldn't slide back down his legs. He looked at himself in the mirror now, standing there in his t-shirt and diaper, and was so embarrassed for having to go through this. Imagine having wet his bed! He wouldn't have believed it had he not seen the spot on the sheets. Facing this "solution" was far harder than any of his classes. He put his pants back on, not wanting Mrs. Williams to see him like this. It was bad enough she'd know he was wearing the diaper at all. He gathered his shoes and underwear and walked to the bathroom door, hearing for the first time the rustle of the plastic of the diaper under his jeans. It made him cringe. When he reentered the hallway, she was waiting right where he'd left her, and her expression as he approached seemed odd. Her eyes gleamed, and her face radiated happiness, as if she actually enjoyed seeing him in a diaper. Well, he thought, she is protecting her mattress and keeping a tenant; she ought to be somewhat satisfied. "Alright," Derek said to the floor. "I'm all set. I'm going to bed." "Not yet," she told him cheerfully. "First I need you to take those silly pants off and let me see just how well you did with the diaper. It doesn't help at all if it's not on properly," she explained as he stared at her incredulously. Derek’s face flushed deep red as he accommodated her, his hands slowly undoing his buckle and zipper and letting his jeans drop to the ground in front of her. "You can just step out of those," Mrs. Williams said quickly. "You shan't need them around here at night, after all." His face aflame, he did so, deciding already that he would never be able to tell anybody, not even his family, about this humiliating experience. He'd come to college to grow up, but now look at him! She knelt in front of him, her face uncomfortably close to his diaper as she inspected his handiwork. He nearly fainted as she reached out and retaped two of the tapes, and he bit his lip when her fingers tugged at the leg elastic and gently pulled the waist up before deciding she was satisfied. "Not too bad, for your first time. It'll get easier, I'm sure. You'll be allowed to continue diapering yourself for now, unless I notice you having any difficulty with the job." Derek refused to imagine this. "Now stand there for just another moment, please," she instructed him before disappearing back inside her bedroom and reappearing with what looked to him like a huge pair of plastic underwear. She couldn't mean… "These are plastic pants, for you to wear over your diaper," Mrs. Williams explained, holding them down to the floor, obviously meaning for him to step into them. "Hold on," Derek said, getting a little overwhelmed. "I didn't agree to this." "But they're totally necessary," she said. "All diapers leak, especially at night, and then all of our efforts will be for nothing. Come on, you're already wearing the diaper; these are hardly any worse." He sighed and stepped into the legs of the plastic pants, which she expertly tugged up his legs. "Wait," he protested. "They don't fit. They're way too tight." "No, no," she said, snapping the waistband up above his diaper. "That's how they prevent leaks." She spun him around to inspect the rear. He felt a slight tug at the waistband, but didn't suspect anything unusual until he heard the distinct clicking of a lock snapping shut. "Hey! What's that?" Derek cried, craning his neck around to see what had just been done to him. "Don't worry," she cooed to him. "It's just a little lock. I have to know you won't take all of this off during the night. You might not even mean to, but things could get dislodged as you toss and turn in your sleep, and my mattress could end up getting wet. You wouldn't want that, would you?" He tested the waist of the plastic pants. It was not uncomfortably tight, but would not give at all. "Well, no, of course not," he said uncertainly. This was more than he'd bargained for, but what could he do? "This is why I made sure you used the bathroom,” Mrs. Williams said. “I didn't want to surprise you, you see. Of course, if you still need to go during the night, you could always use this thing; that's what it was meant for.” She stood up and stepped back, inspecting her work. "Now, doesn’t that feel secure? It might be a little inconvenient, but I have to be able to keep an eye on my little bedwetter, don't I? He cringed at the term. Mrs. Williams went on, “I have the key, of course, and in the morning I'll be more than willing to unlock you so you can get ready for school.” He breathed a sigh of relief. He certainly didn’t want to be seen outside this house in a diaper. “And don't worry,” she continued. “You'll get used to all this; in a couple of weeks, it'll all be second nature to come to me each night for a fresh diaper and your plastic panties. It may seem odd now, but it all makes perfect sense, and you'll get used to it.” "Now let's get some sleep, okay?" And with that, Derek watched her disappear into her bedroom and close the door. He stood there in the hall for a moment, trying to absorb his present situation, but he couldn't. He wandered back into the bathroom, noting that the crinkly sound from the diaper was slightly muted now, and he stared at himself again in the mirror. Now he stared at the balloon-like plastic pants he wore, the white translucent material still affording him a view of his diaper. He could see the lock on the back now, but couldn't reach it, nor did he have the key. He wondered where it was, but only idly, since he guessed that letting himself out would be construed as bad faith, and he would be tossed out the door. Indeed, the only shred of dignity to which he clung was the fact that he had managed to keep himself off the street tonight. Ah, well. His ego would heal itself in time, and this was only a very temporary situation. Chapter 2 He headed back to his bedroom, and thought wryly about her invitation to use the diaper for its intended purpose. Right! How embarrassing would that be, to face her in the morning not only in a diaper but in a *used* diaper? He couldn't be *paid* to submit himself to such humiliation. And how comfortable could it be? So although he was a little worried about his nightly habit of using the toilet in the middle of the night, he still resolved not to use his diaper. He'd simply have to train himself out of that habit for a while. He wasn't surprised to find that he didn't sleep too well that night. The diaper and plastic pants were too new and strange as sensations: bulky yet tight, and warmer than he'd expected. He saw, by the morning, why the powder had been recommended. And he really ended up missing his midnight bathroom trip. By the time his alarm went off in the morning his bladder felt very full, and he eagerly sought out the lady, who was in the kitchen, to unlock him. She did so, and had him remove his plastic pants and give them to her before giving him leave to run to the bathroom. As he struggled out of his plastic pants, she glanced at the indicator strip on the diaper. "Didn't use it? You might as well, you know: you'd never be able to tell it’s wet. They make such good diapers these days. And think how much more comfortable you'd be during the night, especially toward morning. Anyway, you're free to change yourself now. Just bring me the diaper when you're through, and I'll show you what to do with it." He half-grunted a reply as he dashed off to the bathroom, where he quickly ripped off the diaper and relieved himself in the toilet. He also had his morning bowel movement, an event so regular it had been a joke at home throughout his life. Every morning, without fail, sometimes before, often during, and if not, then immediately after breakfast each and every morning. His family at home had nearly been able to set their clocks by it. After a shower, he dressed and headed back out to the kitchen, carrying his diaper with him. She was cleaning her breakfast dishes at the sink, and he cleared his throat to tell her he was back. He held the used diaper awkwardly toward her; she showed him how to wrap it up in itself, and a special little diaper pail in the kitchen where he was to deposit the previous night's diaper when he had removed it. He was to wrap the diaper in front of her and deposit it there each morning. "But you don't really have to throw it away," he protested. "I didn't use it, you know." "You let me worry about that," she chided. "I don't like my boys to wear the same diaper two nights in a row, regardless of whether or not they used it. It just isn't right." He was late for classes, so he just shrugged and left. On his way to campus, though, he wondered about her comment. "Her boys?" What did that mean? There wasn't anyone else in that house, he knew. She must have had some sons when she was younger. Great, he thought. I get to be lumped in with diaper-wearing toddlers just because I wet the bed one time. That night went much the same as the previous night: he went to her when he was ready for bed, he received a diaper, went into the bathroom and peed. This night, though, he put a small amount of the baby powder on his inner thighs to cut down on the sweating he did the night before, and was surprised to experience a flood of remote feelings from his childhood return as he inhaled that infantile perfume. Weird, he thought. He managed to put the diaper on a little more quickly tonight, then went out into the hall to have the diaper adjusted and to have his plastic pants put on and locked. Tonight she complimented him on how nice he smelled, causing him to blush; apparently the powder brought back memories for her as well, he thought. She wished him good night and he went to bed. Again he had trouble sleeping, although he had to admit the powder helped. But his bladder was again uncomfortable as the night went on, and he tossed and turned as morning approached. When she unlocked him that morning, her comments returned to the subject of using the diaper. "I don't understand why you don't just use the diaper instead of being uncomfortable. It doesn't matter, since we always throw the diaper away anyway, no matter whether you use it or not. *I* certainly don't care whether it's used or not. It’s not like I’m going to let you out of diapers if you stay dry. You’ve got nothing to prove to me. Oh, well, no sense arguing: it's *you* that's uncomfortable." Chapter 3 After a week of wearing the diapers at night, he began to get more comfortable with them, managing to sleep fairly well, at least in the beginning of the night. He'd used more and more powder each night, as he discovered how nice it felt, and he began not to notice the smell as much. Derek was even starting to retrain his body not to need the midnight bathroom trip anymore, mostly by restricting fluids after dinner. That way, he wasn't tempted to use the diaper, and he felt slightly less embarrassed about his diaper-wearing that way. He noted the fact that he hadn't wet the bed since that one night, which reinforced his impression that it must have been a fluke. On Friday of that week, he was invited to a party on campus by several of his second-year classmates. He was happy about this opportunity to get his social life in gear, and about the prospect of drinking, which he had done only sporadically in high school and in minimal amounts. He politely informed his landlord, who simply asked him to keep things quiet upon his return that night. She told him to wake her, if she was asleep, for his diaper; she didn't mind, she said. So he went off and happily found that beer was readily accessible in the fraternities, even to underage guys like himself. His inexperience, however, led to the consumption of a bit too much alcohol, and after several beers, he couldn't remember why drinking so much was a bad idea. He walked home at one, and was surprised to find Mrs. Williams still up, reading. He was afraid she'd make a big deal about smelling like beer, but she said nothing, handing him his diaper as usual. His foremost thought, as he went through the motions of peeing and then putting his diaper on, was that he'd gotten too buzzed. Not being an experienced drinker, Derek was nervous about having a hangover tomorrow; he'd asked a friend how to prevent post- party headaches, and the friend had advised him to replace fluids, since dehydration led to many of the hangover symptoms. So once he had his diaper on, he drank deeply from the bathroom tap, until he was satisfied that he'd done all that he could. Mrs. Williams smiled as she handed him his plastic pants, but she still didn't say anything. She'd smelled the beer, and heard the water, and she suspected that tonight would be a special night for him. But he still hadn't figured out why the beer and water might have been a bad idea. When he awoke at about three, however, his bladder ready to burst, he quickly realized his mistake. It was actually painful, and much as he tried, he couldn't drift off back to sleep again. Fully awake, he thought about what he could do about his problem. He could try to hold out until morning, which seemed impossible at this moment. He could wake up Mrs. Williams and beg for use of the bathroom, but considering all of her urging to use the diaper, he (correctly) thought that she wouldn't be pleased to be awakened for such a reason. No, he knew his fate was decided, and his face burned with embarrassment even thinking about it. For the first time since he was a baby, he was going to have to "use" a diaper. The pain convinced him to do it sooner rather than later, so he took a deep breath and pushed his diaphragm down, forcing the urine in his bladder out his urethra into the waiting diaper. He felt a warmth spread between his legs, and was surprised when it didn't really feel that bad. It spread through his whole diaper area, to his bottom and to the front. Before he knew it, the pain was gone, and the warmth of the wet diaper sent him drifting back to sleep… He woke up at eight thirty that morning, his bladder once again full. By this time, however, his diaper *was* not feeling very comfortable, now being rather cold and damp. He gingerly got out of bed, noting thankfully that the plastic pants had done their job. He felt the wet disposable diaper cling to his skin, and he made his way as quickly as possible to the kitchen, where he knew he'd find Mrs. Williams. She was indeed there, and as she caught sight of him waddling in with a saggy, boggy diaper, she let out what was apparently a shriek of joy. Derek suddenly regained his self-consciousness, which had been momentarily suppressed by his discomfort. He realized he was there in front of her with a visibly wet diaper! How embarrassing. And she was anything but discrete about it. "Well, well," she chirped happily. "Finally getting some good use out of those, I see. Glad to know I'm not wasting my time and money. Wow, and a thorough job, too, she said as she unlocked him. "It's not that bad, is it? Well, congratulations." He said nothing, but scurried away to the bathroom to make himself more comfortable. He could think of nothing but his embarrassment at having been seen in a wet diaper. It took some courage after he had showered and dressed to return to the kitchen for breakfast. But he discovered, when he did, that she had prepared a huge meal for him, the first time she had ever done such a thing. He was surprised and pleased, but felt sheepish about handing over his heavy wet diaper to her. He was also embarrassed to have to ask his next question: "How do I, um, clean those plastic pants? They, uh, got a little wet, too." But Mrs. Williams sang, "Oh, never mind them. Just leave them in the bathroom and I'll make sure they're cleaned. Don't give them another thought: it's not at all a big deal." And, happy not to have to deal with them, he sat down for his breakfast. Her special hospitality that day didn't end there. She cooked the other meals for him and did his laundry, and he really had to admit that he liked the help and attention. That night, of course, he did not wet his diaper, and the next day she hardly spoke to him at all. The difference in her attitude was obvious, and he thought it odd. She clearly wanted him to wet his diaper at night, but *why* would she want that? The best answer that he could come up with, considering her frugal nature, was that if he wet at night, then she wasn't "wasting" her money on diapers that weren't used. He had to admit that as weird as she was, he did like her, and he certainly did appreciate her help with chores, which left him more time to study and relax. So...what would be the harm in indulging her a little? She'd already seen Derek in a wet diaper, and she didn't mind. Plus, without his midnight bathroom break he did get uncomfortable toward morning. Why not take advantage? He therefore began presenting a wet diaper to Mrs. Williams every morning, and every morning she would coo and fuss, and that evening he'd have a good dinner and help with favors and chores. This went on for several weeks, and just as wetting a diaper every night seemed more and more routine, so, too, did he forget about finding a new place to live. She made the rest of his life so pleasant that he almost didn't mind the weird diaper thing, which to him grew less and less weird as time went on. He got to where he wouldn't even pause before peeing in his diaper if he woke during the night, and even found himself thankful for the diaper, since he didn't have to get out of bed to use the bathroom. Chapter 4 One morning, after he'd been wearing diapers at night for a month, he woke up with a modestly wet diaper, and sleepily went off looking for the lady to unlock him. When he couldn't find her in the kitchen or den, he stumbled back to her bedroom, where the door was shut. He knocked on the door, but there was no answer. He wandered out into the living room and wondered what to do, and his eyes drifted outside to the empty space in her driveway. She was gone! This was upsetting, since he had to get ready and leave for class soon, but he trusted that she'd be back soon. For now, though, he was annoyed at having to rearrange his morning routine, since he couldn't shower right away like he usually did. And he had to pee. Luckily, *that* wasn't a problem, though, he smiled to himself as he released his urine into his damp diaper. It warmed comfortably, and he didn't notice how he’d started enjoying the feeling. The diaper was now sagging pretty seriously, though, and he suspected that it might be close to its saturation point. He hoped she came home soon. Deciding he needed to do something productive or he would be late for class, he sat down in his wet diaper and ate a bowl of cereal, consciously missing a cooked meal. As he ate he thought about the day ahead. It was an important day for one of his classes, a seminar that started at nine and lasted all morning. Today they would receive midterm paper topics and exam instructions for the midterm test in a couple weeks. He couldn't miss today. He finished his cereal and, since there was still no sign of her, began to worry in earnest. He had to get to class! And soon, he knew, he'd have another big problem. His morning bowel movement, regular as clockwork, often hit him with an urge that was strong enough to make him run to the bathroom in the middle of breakfast (a fact that had not gone unnoticed by the landlady). The idea of using his diaper for that revolted him. and this was a possibility he did not want to face. He knew such a thing had to smell horrendously, be very uncomfortable, and be far too embarrassing to let *her* see or smell. No, that was a bridge he couldn't, and wouldn't, cross, today or ever. He got up and went back into the living room, staring out the picture window toward the street, wishing her home. Suddenly that urge hit. And true to form, it hit hard. He looked around, panicked. He tugged at his chained waist. But of course it wouldn’t give a bit. A cramp hit him hard. And then he knew. He was going to have an accident. Only he wasn't sure if it could be called an "accident" if he was wearing a diaper. He shuddered at the thought. The urge got worse. He'd never tried waiting and seeing if it went away; he wondered if it could. But it didn't now. It worsened until he had to concentrate on *not* relieving his bowels. He wondered again what a messy diaper would feel like. For how long could he last, after all? Not four hours like this! He wouldn't even be able to walk to class like this. And it worsened still. He managed to walk slowly back to the lady's bedroom. Surely she'd forgive him if he found the key to his panties and unlocked himself just this once. He tried the door, but it was locked. And heavy: he couldn't break it down even if he had wanted to., He didn't want to try, though, for he had a hunch that so much effort might very well make him fill his diaper. His watch said eight forty-five now. This was terrible. He'd never felt as uncomfortable and miserable as he did now. He looked for her car again. No luck. The feeling hadn't eased a bit. It was no use, he knew. A little voice in his head, which sounded suspiciously like the lady's, told him to do the logical thing and mess his diaper. It was a diaper, after all. Another voice chimed in that the lady wouldn't mind if he did; she was odd enough that she would probably even like it, and who knew what she'd cook for him then? In response he allowed himself the small luxury of relaxing his sphincter just a little to see what it felt like, and before he could stop what was happening (he realized it was all over now) his bowel movement pushed its way out into his diaper. The first moments felt heavenly, he thought, as the pressure inside was released, but then as he felt the mess collect and push itself around in the seat of his diaper, felt his diaper fill and pull slightly, felt the warm mushy heat surround his buttocks, it started to dawn on him what he had just done. He'd just deliberately pooped in his diaper. And now that the initial relief had passed, he began to be utterly disgusted with the sensations from within the diaper. How could he have done such a thing? Derek waddled out to the front room carefully, so as not to force the load in his diaper into motion, but was disappointed to see that the lady's car was still missing. A wave of horror washed over him as he realized that he still *had* to go to class, and that now he would have to walk around, talk to classmates and professors, and sit in this sopping, messy diaper he'd created. What if someone saw it? Smelled it? Heard it? And sitting in it for several hours was not something he looked forward to. He cursed, loudly and repeatedly, but that didn't help much. And he had to leave right away, or he'd be late, on top of everything else. Walking in late, with everyone's attention on him, was just the initial impression he didn't want to make, so he tried to hurry. He waddled into his room, feeling his diaper's load shift with every step. As he put his jeans on and bent over to pull them up, his BM smoothly spread itself out over his cheeks and between his legs. He grimaced, knowing that this feeling was only the beginning. He quickly found the longest shirt he owned, hoping to cover up his horrible secret. He finished dressing and waddled to class as normally and as quickly as he could. He was not late, but was not early enough that he felt obligated to talk to anyone. He just chose a seat in the back, and silently endured the three hour seminar, trying not to move or draw attention to himself. He was miserable and humiliated as he counted the minutes to the end of class. He nearly cried twice. He was just so grateful no one seemed to notice him. He wasn’t sure why. Maybe the plastic pants helped contain the smell? At the end, he sprinted from the class back home, ignoring the discomfort this caused him, just wanting to get home and changed as soon as possible. Derek felt relieved, angry, and embarrassed when he saw her car in the driveway. He tried to picture how she'd react, and he almost dreaded the possibility that she wouldn't be grossed out, or might actually be happy at his predicament. She was making lunch when he waddled in silently. He needed to be unlocked, but he was so angry and embarrassed about his condition that he didn't know how to start a conversation. She heard him enter, though, and greeted him. A moment later she sniffed the air and asked if he smelled anything strange. He nodded slightly and looked away. She came over to him and took one of his hands. "Is there something wrong?" she asked him tenderly, sensing he was upset. That maternal action muddled up his emotions, and he inadvertently released his frustration in a flood of tears. "Where *were* you this morning?" he choked. He was pissed off at himself for crying, but couldn't help it. The day had been so bad. She sat him down and pulled him close. "Oh, my little boy, it's alright. I'm here now. What happened this morning? Did you have a little accident?" He sniffed and nodded into her arms, letting her sleeves soak up his tears. "It's okay. Everybody has accidents, and everybody has a messy diaper once in a while. It's no big deal. I'm here now. It's alright." She kept cooing to him and stroking his hair until he stopped crying. "Is it uncomfortable?" she asked sympathetically. He nodded. "And smelly?" He nodded again, aware that he had regressed for a few minutes, but feeling that it was appropriate under these circumstances. It felt so nice to be cared for. "But you don't need to be embarrassed, okay? Because everybody has dirty diapers once in a while, right? Okay. Don't worry about it. Let's just get you changed, okay?" He nodded, but looked at her reluctantly. "What? Do you need me to help, or can you do it yourself? It can be a big job, you know." He finally found his voice. "No, no, it's okay. I'll do it." "Fine. As you know, the wipes are in the bathroom. Use as many as you need to to get yourself clean. And be thorough, okay? Messes can lead to a rash pretty quickly." He nodded, embarrassed. "And just bring me your diaper and your baby pants afterward. Now let's get you unlocked. I've got the key right here." He took off his shoes, then undid his jeans and removed them. He saw that his disposable had leaked badly into the plastic pants, allowing a brownish fluid to accumulate in them, and he knew she could see this as well. But she didn't mention it. She just unlocked his pants and patted him gently on the bottom. He then went into the bathroom to spend ten of the most disgusting minutes of his life removing the diaper and its contents from his bottom and legs. He used dozens of baby wipes as well as toilet paper, and afterward he showered, thoroughly washing his diaper area as she had said. After he dressed, he brought out the disgusting diaper to the kitchen, where the lady had him put it in a ziplock baggie and deposit it into the trash. She smilingly told him that once again, she'd take care of his "baby pants," a term she'd started using so gradually that he hadn't even noticed it. Chapter 5 He was feeling much better about life since he had showered, and when he caught sight of the meal she'd prepared for him, he was genuinely elated. It was great! He was grateful to her for making such a bad situation turn out so well; she was a good mom, he thought to himself before he could stop himself. Landlady, he corrected himself. Or friend, or whatever. Anyway, she was nice. And her kindness took another noticeable step up in intensity after this incident, he noticed. She now cooked all of his meals, drove him wherever he needed to go, did all the housekeeping chores, and even rented movies she thought he'd like on the weekends. He refused to think of it as a reward for having messed his diaper; that was an absurd explanation. She was probably just recognizing that the incident had brought them closer together. And he liked the new benefits, so he didn't think about it too critically. It was just a few days later (after several uneventful, wet nights) when he found himself talking to a classmate, a sophomore girl (who naturally intimidated him). The subject of housing came up. She asked him where he lived, and, wanting to make a good impression, he tried to describe the location of the house. She looked confused, and said, "Not in the baby house, though, right?" A little chill went down his spine. "What do you mean?" She told him that there was an older woman in one of those houses on Oak Street who, every year, tried to snare a freshman boy, turning him into her "baby." "It's pretty freaky, I've got to say, although for all I know it's just a rumor. But the rumor is that she puts the guy into baby diapers, baby clothes, makes him sleep in a crib, eat baby food, everything. Supposedly once a guy gets caught by her, he's hers until he graduates. It hasn't happened for a year or two, so I haven't seen it, only heard about it from upperclassmen. But can you imagine? “Apparently they get sucked in during freshman year before they know better, and somehow get trapped. I don't really understand why they don't walk away. Maybe they like it, but I can't imagine why. I'd bet they'd get teased, you know? Anyway, it's weird. I'd watch out," she laughed playfully, obviously either not taking the rumors seriously, or not suspecting him of being in that house. Derek laughed, too, trying to cover up his anxiety. He thought she must be talking about his landlady. Later, he thought about it carefully. Could the rumors be true? They had to be talking about her; how many other women on his street put their boarders in diapers? But he only wore the diapers at night, and none of the other stuff was true. The stories were too fantastic to be true, he thought. What had happened to him had probably happened to someone else at some point in the past, and someone had found out and blown the whole thing out of proportion. It was probably like a typical game of "telephone", when rumors get exaggerated naturally. Besides, Mrs. Williams was nice. A little eccentric, but not wacko. The two of them had a very nice relationship, and he trusted her, so he didn't see a reason to panic and move out. At the most he'd just keep his eyes open. And for the next week, the last week before midterms, everything was, indeed, as "normal" as ever: he put on a clean diaper at night, and would present her with a wet one the next morning. His nervousness about midterms, his first college tests, was growing. Derek was glad to learn that a big bash was scheduled for the weekend before midterms started, the traditional way on campus to blow off steam before exams. He went, of course, and unfortunately had his first real experience with out-of-control drinking. By the time he stumbled home at two in the morning, he could hardly balance himself. He pushed his way along walls, received his diaper from a rather alarmed landlady, and fell into the bathroom to pee and put his diaper on. He peed, and peed a great amount, but in a very inaccurate way. Then he slumped down on the bathroom floor to try to put his diaper on. He fumbled with the diaper, getting lots of powder on the tapes so that they wouldn't stick. And in his intoxicated state, he couldn't figure out what to do about it, so he did the best he could. He stood up, and it was on backwards, and the tapes wouldn't stick, and he basically had to hold the diaper up with his hands. But he didn't care: he had to get to bed to stop the world from spinning. He managed to stumble out into the hall to face Mrs. Williams. She said something about his diaper and he said he *couldn't* do it right and didn't want to try and could she please just give him the goddamned pants so he could go to the fucking bed. He just watched as the expression on her face changed, and he was led back into the bathroom and seated on the floor. The lady disappeared for a moment, and when she returned she had another diaper. She pushed him back down to the floor, and he just let her do it: it felt nice to lie down, and he was just barely aware of the fact that she removed the bad diaper, put the new one under his bottom, spread lots of powder all over and drew the diaper up between his legs and taped it. With some difficulty she got him standing and retaped the diaper properly, then got him into his baby pants. She looked toward the toilet and said something about his peeing on the floor, but he was too out of it to understand. She said something else and then led him to his bed, where he immediately went to sleep. Chapter 6 He awoke the next morning with a very wet diaper and muddled memories of the night before. He had a bad headache, and he took two aspirins before heading to the kitchen to get Mrs. Williams to unlock him. He immediately saw that she was not in a good mood; this was not something he needed this morning. He brusquely asked her to unlock him so he could change, but she said they needed to talk. Once they were both seated she looked at him sadly. "Do you even know what happened last night?" He shook his head, as it was slightly easier than talking. "Well, I'd better tell you, because we have to deal with it somehow, I'm afraid." Derek was getting the same feeling he used to get when his mother punished him as a little boy, an ominous, foreboding sense that he had been bad but hadn't even known it. "I'm assuming you may have been a little drunk last night?" He nodded. "Well, you peed all over my bathroom, I'm afraid. It's still there if you want to go look." He stared at his feet, not wanting to go look at that piece of handiwork. He was sure she was right, for that sounded slightly familiar. "Not only that, but you cursed several times at me. And you were completely unable to put your diaper on by yourself, which, of course, I had to remedy. Do you remember any of this?" He did, slightly, to his humiliation. She had seen him naked, and had put his diaper on for him. Oh, boy. He nodded. "Well, the first thing is that you wanted to be responsible for putting on your own diapers. Suddenly you're shirking that responsibility, and that's a big problem. I have to know that you're wearing that diaper each and every night, and that you're wearing it properly. Leaks don't help us at all, you know. So if you can't be trusted with that responsibility, I'm afraid I'll just have to assume it." He tried to think of something to say, anything to protest, but she went right on. "Let me finish. Second, as you know, toilet usage is a privilege, not a right. I'd have thought you of all people would have known that," she said, looking pointedly at his diaper. "You have to earn that privilege, and I don’t think you should be allowed in my bathrooms anymore. Normally, that would create quite a problem for a tenant, but in your situation, it would seem as though we have a clear and established alternative available." Again she glanced at his diaper. "My point is that I'm afraid we need to deal with these issues right away to assure that last night's fiasco cannot ever be repeated. As I see it, we need to make two changes. First, I will change your diaper from now on. It's easier for you and I don't mind, especially since I have the extra piece of mind knowing it's done right every time.” Derek swallowed. It was one thing to have her rescue him when he was blind drunk, and he was still embarrassed that she saw him naked under those circumstances. Now she wanted to change him every time? He wasn’t sure--- “Second, you make the small step of going from wearing diapers at night to wearing them all the time whenever you're in my house. We do both of these, and we're completely covered." Mrs. Williams paused. "The trouble is, I know it might be difficult for a boy like you to get used to these ideas, and I haven't yet made up my mind what to do. What do *you* think?" Derek sat with his mouth open. He certainly hadn't expected anything like this, and he couldn't believe what he was hearing. "You can't be serious," he said, rubbing his eyes. His head hurt so much. "Of course I am," she replied. "But you're obviously in shock, and I can appreciate that. I'm not unreasonable. So how about we only do *one* of those two things. And to make it easier for you, you get to pick which one. Okay?" He was still staring into space. "Now look at it from my perspective. I have to know my bathroom won't get abused and that my bed doesn't get damaged, right?" He nodded, conceding this point. "And something has to be done in the wake of last night, don't you agree?" He admitted to himself, with some shame, that it had been quite a performance. He nodded again to her. Something probably needed to be done. But this? "Now, it is my house, and I make the rules. If you can't follow them, you can always leave, as we've discussed. But I like you, and I think you've enjoyed living here. I'd like to work this out, if possible. Because otherwise you're a good tenant, and I'd like you to stay. So take a look at those two options and try to pick one. I'll give you some time to decide.” Mrs. Williams rose from the table, then turned back to him. “Until you decide, though, of course, I'll need to keep you in this diaper, since the result of your decision will dictate how and into what you will be changed. So you go think about it, and tell me when you've decided." She left him sitting at the kitchen table. Derek put his throbbing head down on the table. She'd done it to him again, he realized. She'd sprung something so absurd at him, so suddenly (and right before midterms), that he didn't have any options. He had to study full-time; he had no time to apartment-hunt. He couldn't afford to be homeless right now, so he knew he had to play her game. But she couldn't have planned it this way, right? She was odd, but not devious; he thought he knew that. But the timing was certainly uncanny. So he went back to his room, sat on his bed, and tried to decide which of the two choices was less heinous. He thought about what it would be like for her to change all of his diapers. Pretty big intrusion into his privacy! But then, she'd already done it once. Of course, he'd been drunk and hadn't been that aware of the experience. If he wore a diaper only at night, it would just be clean and wet diapers she'd deal with, not the really embarrassing messy ones. What about the other option? It was absolutely unthinkable. He'd gotten so he didn't mind the night diapers, but that was because they were only partially functional, and then only by choice. Wearing diapers all the time had the air of being totally reduced to baby status, which was too much. He had no interest in having to "earn" toilet privileges. Plus it would obviously mean one or more dirty diapers a day, and a high likelihood of having to wear them out and around again (because what were the odds of her being home every single time he went out?). Furthermore, he knew either of these choices would be embarrassing, but the former choice would be over after several minutes each day and would be confined to night usage, while the latter would obviously be humiliating all the time. So he decided to go with option number one, while telling himself it would only last a week or at most two weeks, until midterms were over and he could find a new place to live. He liked the house, and he appreciated Mrs. Williams, but things were getting a bit weird. Still, he could put up with anything for a week or two. Chapter 7 He waddled out in his wet diaper and told her he wanted the diaper changing option. She sighed contentedly and said, "I'm so happy you'll be staying. I didn't want to drive you away, but I felt something had to be done. And it won't be *that* bad, will it? Sometimes it's nice to sit back and let someone else do the work. Right?" Derek nodded sullenly. His hangover had not been helped by this. He felt a little numbed by the whole experience; it seemed surreal. Mrs. Williams, on the other hand, seemed elated that the issue had been settled. She hugged him; he responded only minimally. "Whoops!" she exclaimed. "I'd better get that wet diaper off of you!" She strode to the other end of the house; he followed tentatively. He felt uncomfortable about the whole thing, assuming this new, passive role. But *she* apparently felt totally comfortable with her new role, and waited for him in the bathroom. He stepped into the room, and she unlocked his pants. He started to pull the baby pants down but she playfully slapped his hands away and did it for him. "Okay, just sit down on the floor while I get out your baby wipes." "You know, I can do this," he said, embarrassed to be so obviously treated like a baby, even as he obeyed her instructions. "I know, but we made a deal. Now lay back and pull your knees up." He sighed and did so, staring off into space, trying to pretend he wasn't there. What would his family think of this? Humming, she leaned over and untaped his wet diaper and pulled it down through his legs, exposing him. She whistled at how wet his diaper was as she opened the baby wipes and pulled one out. "Um, you really don't need to do that," he said anxiously. "I'm just going to shower." "Well, I feel like it's my responsibility," she said, looking at his face through his knees. "I want to leave you as clean after the diapers as you were before. Or even cleaner. Besides, I've *got* all those baby wipes; I may as well use them." And she started at his waist, firmly and quickly covering his skin and gently scrubbing away the remains of the wetness and powder. She did his thighs, his penis, scrotum, and then set that wipe aside. "Okay, now spread some more and lift your knees all the way to your face, please," she directed as she prepared another wipe. "Is this really necessary?" he asked, dreading her next actions. "Yes," she said rather shortly. So he did it, exposing the rest of his most private areas to her. She wiped down his hips and worked her way into his crack, which she held open with one hand and cleaned with the other. This was so embarrassing. She pulled the wet diaper out from under him and replaced it with a clean towel. He dropped his legs instinctively. She picked up the wet diaper and folded it up, saying, "There. That was easy, right? A lot less for you to worry about. We'll be doing this twice a day." Mrs. Williams looked thoughtful. "It's so uncomfortable and cold down here on the floor. I wonder if I could find some sort of table that is more appropriate. Perhaps there are yard sales somewhere today." She started to walk out, but then stopped and turned back to him. "One other thing. For now, I think this will work out fine," she told the naked boy on the bathroom floor (who was trying to hide his genitalia and look dignified). "But anymore slip-ups with the toilet and I'll really have to enforce the other rule as well. Understand?” Derek forced himself to nod. He just wanted this experience to end. “Good,” she said. “And finally, I *do* need that floor and toilet cleaned before lunch today. Now why don't you shower and I'll make some breakfast." She disappeared with the wet diaper, and he was left on the floor to ponder his new living situation. But it was too bizarre. He couldn't really accept it. He tried to see it as a necessary evil during exams, to be remedied later. In fact, he decided to put it out of his mind altogether, and not to let it bother him. He'd ignore it and bear the burden for a week or two, and then move. He had mixed feelings about moving, surprisingly, because of his affection for the landlady. But there were limits to how weird he'd let things get. He shook his head, showered, and got to work studying in his room after an elaborate breakfast. He noticed that Mrs. Williams’ mood was now bordering on mania, and eventually her high spirits brought him around, too (or perhaps it was the aspirin finally kicking in). He knew she wanted him to be happy, and it took a while, but he obliged eventually. Chapter 8 Later in the day Derek heard some loud noises, like furniture being moved, and he emerged from his room to discover that the landlady had somehow brought a large table-like thing into the third, yet-unused bedroom. It looked like an examination table, four feet high and about three and a half wide by six feet long. Covered with a brownish vinyl material, it had several drawers on the side facing away from the wall. She saw him step closer to look, and she beamed with pride. "Pretty good for a garage sale, huh?" she asked, obviously excited and pleased. “And the seller delivered it for an extra $10.” "Yeah, I guess. It's in good shape....but what *is* it?" he asked, confused. Mrs. Williams laughed. "I guess if you don't know, you'll have to wait until bedtime tonight to find out. But it's warmer than the floor!" Then he realized. It was an adult-sized changing table, for him. As she stood next to it he could see it was the perfect height for her to work on him. His first reaction was, strangely, one of shared happiness: yes, this *would* make things easier and more comfortable for both of them. But it also embarrassed him, that he would require such furniture for his diapering needs. He shook his head and decided he couldn’t think about that right now. He needed to get back to studying. His preoccupation with his work must have been what prevented him from seeing this table as the permanentization of his new, more infantile status. That realization wouldn't come until later. The midterm week was difficult, but passed, of course. His exams were tough, but his landlady's help allowed him to study a lot, since he didn't have to concentrate on chores or meals. And while, by the end of the week, he wasn't excited about the diaper changings with Mrs. Williams, he now tolerated the routine, and his embarrassment about the whole thing had lessened somewhat. She clearly looked forward to the changing sessions, cooing and humming throughout them. They would also talk, and during this busy and stressful time, it might be the only talking he did, which was a nice break from studying. So it became more tolerable for him, if not downright enjoyable. His last exam was Friday morning, and he had had to study most of the night for it. When it was over, he was exhausted from the lack of sleep and the cumulative effects of the week. On his way back home, he could think of nothing better than taking a long afternoon nap, and when he got home, that's exactly what he did. It was a glorious nap, and didn't end until about four that afternoon, when he became aware of someone looking at him as he slept. He opened his eyes with alarm, jerking awake to the sight of the Mrs. Williams. She was sitting in his desk chair, staring at him intently. When she saw him awaken she shook her head sadly. He correctly took this as a bad omen, and sat up, worried. "You scared me to death! What's wrong? What are you doing?" Derek asked, still drowsy and confused. She kept shaking her head, saying, "I really am sorry it came to this, because I really like you, and I know it's been hard for you getting used to the diapers." He was now wide awake. "I wish rules weren't rules, but..." She trailed off. "What? What?!" he said, sensing something bad was happening. He searched his tired brain for something he had done wrong. He couldn't think of anything. "Before we get to that, did you finish your exams? Good. Congratulations. So I'm betting you were tired, and had a nap? Great, I hope it was nice..." She was rambling slightly. He asked again what was wrong. "Well, let's see if you can figure this out. Where are you now?" "Right here." "Right. But specifically?" "On my bed, talking to you." "And were you just sleeping in your bed?" "Well, yeah. You saw me." "Yes, I did. Does anything strike you funny about the way you napped in this bed?" He thought for a moment, playing her little game. Knowing her, it probably had to do with diapers. She couldn't mean that he should have been wearing one for his nap? Yes, he thought: that's exactly what she meant. She saw him figure it out, and nodded. "But you said that I only had to wear a diaper at night!" he objected. "No, I certainly did not. *We* agreed that you would wear a diaper *in bed.* We want to prevent you from wetting the bed. That's a definite possibility any time you are asleep in that bed. Right? Look at me. Right?" "But it was a nap," he whined. "Oh, come on. You can do better than that." She was right. He was behaving like a child. He paused as he thought about how to approach this problem like an adult. "Okay. You're right. I'm sorry. Now I know. It won't happen again." Mrs. Williams looked at him and smiled appreciatively at his attempt. "I know that, but unfortunately that's not enough. We need to decide together on a fair punishment." He groaned. He could have expected this. "Such as?" She paused. "I think we both know what needs to be done. I let you off the hook before, but now I don't think there's any way around it," she said sadly. He shook his head. "I will *not* wear diapers all the time. That's too much," he said, looking straight into her eyes. "You ask me to do that forever, and I'm out of here." "Well, I don't want you to leave," she conceded. "So I guess we'll have to compromise. Wearing diapers all the time would be an excellent way to prevent any accidents in bed at all hours of the day and night. And I think it's very important that you experience what that would be like, wearing diapers all the time, so that you try very hard not to make any more mistakes. But I'm willing to have you do it for only a limited amount of time, such as for one week. How does that sound?" "A week?" he asked. "I don't know..." he said doubtfully. He'd promised himself a week ago he wouldn't allow this to happen. But he'd also said that he could stand anything for a week. "Oh, come on," she coaxed. "You don't even know that you'd dislike it." "Of course I would," Derek snorted. "Now listen to me," she snapped. "You came into this house with only one rule, which you promptly broke. We fixed that with the addition of one more rule, which you have now broken *twice* in the space of one week, so far without any real punishment. Is that justice? I don't think so, and I think you know that, too. Now, own up to your mistake and take the punishment like a man, so that we can get back to some peace and quiet. It's just for one week, for God's sake. Don't be such a baby." He absorbed this tirade quietly and knew that in some ways she was right: he had broken a rule several times and endangered her precious bed. Maybe it was time to accept a little punishment and go on. It was just a week. And he'd need at least that long to find a new place to stay. He couldn't move out today, but if he agreed to this, he could start looking and perhaps move out before the week was up. It was sneaky, but it was his only chance of sleeping in a bed tonight and not being entirely humiliated by a whole week in diapers. He nodded his head and looked at the floor. "Okay, you win." She came over and sat on his bed. "It's just a couple diapers a day, not much more than now. It might seem hard, but I need to know I can trust you around the house. Okay?" "Okay." "Okay. I respect you for doing this." She patted his leg. "Now we need to discuss details. Obviously, no bathroom use for a week. I'll just keep it locked so you're not tempted, and that way we won't have to worry about using those nasty plastic panties during the day. I'll unlock the bathroom once a day, in the morning for you to shower, but the door stays propped open so I know you're not cheating. You can brush your teeth at the kitchen sink. And, of course, according to our earlier agreement, I'll be changing the diapers for you. Any questions?" He hadn't thought of this last point. It brought up an embarrassing issue. "Yes, um, can I be allowed to change the, uh, messy ones?" "No, I'll do it," she offered generously. "I don't mind, really. It comes with the territory, of course." She smiled at him, and he smiled very weakly back. "Now, I have one more question for you," she said, turning more serious. He looked up at her, curious. "Are you still thinking of moving out after this week?" There was silence as he discovered that he was not as sneaky as he might think. But might as well be honest; she deserved that. "I'd thought about that, yes," Derek answered. "I'd like to ask a little favor," she said quietly. "I understand about wanting to leave. I do. And that's fine. It's your right, and I understand that my rules, though simple, are sometimes demanding for certain types of boys. But could you please wait for one week before you start looking? Just a week, that's all I ask." She was pushing him again. He'd just promised himself he wouldn't stay the whole week, and she was asking him to break that promise. But he made the mistake of looking into her lonely, seeking eyes. "Uh...well...why?" "Because you might change your mind, and I just want there to be a chance. We'll talk about it next week. You can pretend you're giving notice at a job, because there are some similarities. After all, I'm not sure how long it'll take to fill your room. I need a little time to put an ad in the paper, things like that. And then next week if you still feel like moving out, I won't argue. Okay?" He felt himself caving. He nodded to her. Like a few days would make any difference. But he wished he had a spine. "Thanks." Mrs. Williams rose. "I guess we'd better get started." Chapter 9 He swallowed, not expecting that things would begin so soon. "Um, can I at least use the bathroom one last time?" he asked plaintively. "I don't think so," she said. "I believe in swift sentencing." She smiled. He sighed. She led him into the third bedroom, where the changing table lived. He took off his shoes and socks, and turned away from her involuntarily as he lowered his pants. He hopped up on the changing table, pulled up his shirt, and laid back. He'd done this enough with her he already knew the routine. He pulled his knees up a little as she opened a drawer and pulled out a disposable diaper and some baby powder. He helped her as she pulled down his underpants and slipped them off his legs. "After we do this," she said casually, "why don't you collect the rest of these big boy underpants and bring them to me for safe keeping during the week. You certainly won't be needing them, you know." Already terribly embarrassed, he didn't want to argue. He just nodded and stared at the ceiling as she had him lift his legs. She slid the diaper under his bottom and powdered him heavily all over. Then, as she had for a week, she deftly pulled the diaper up and taped it, had him hop down, and readjusted them slightly for a good standing fit. "Okay, all set. Now if you're wet or dirty, you just need to come to me, tell me what's wrong, and ask to be changed. And I will change you just as soon as I can. I'll try to do it immediately, but that may not always be possible, of course. But I imagine you'll be able to wait a bit if necessary; the diaper's not going anywhere, is it?" She laughed at this. He didn't. "You don't have any classes this week, do you?" she asked. "No," he said. "It's fall break. I was going to go home, but I decided not to when I found out my parents were traveling to New Jersey to visit relatives. At that point, I thought I'd rather stay here; now I'm not so sure," he said glumly. "Oh, we'll do fine all week. The fact that you don't have classes will make things easier, of course. We'll negotiate outings as they come up. But when you're here in the house, and don't have any company, I need to be able to see your diaper at all times, not only to make sure you're wearing it, but also to see when you need to be changed. So, no pants in the house, okay? I'll keep the heat up so you're not cold. Okay?" Derek drew in his breath. Another little surprise. How humiliating that would be, to walk around the house wearing only a diaper, and sometimes a wet or messy diaper at that. But like she said, it was her house, and she made the rules, and if she didn't mind seeing the diaper, then he'd have to cope. He would start looking for a place next week for sure. "So we'll end in a week...well, it would certainly be silly to get you out of diapers right before bed on Friday, so we'll call this thing over on Saturday morning, okay? That's it. See you in an hour for dinner; how's scallops?" Scallops were great, as it turned out, but he was thinking more about his predicament than the food. He sat on his bed after dinner, in his slightly wet disposable diaper, and had a moment of insight. He saw himself as he was, an eighteen-year-old young man willingly waddling around a woman's house in nothing but a diaper, allowing a woman to change him whenever he got wet or dirty. How bizarre and disgusting it seemed! Yet he'd agreed to it. He thought again about what that sophomore girl had said and now could see that this was obviously the same house to which she'd referred. And to a certain extent, he'd been taken in just as she'd said. He knew now why the other boys hadn't "just run away." It had snuck up on them, like it had on him, one weird little thing at a time, until she was changing his diaper twenty-four hours a day. The good thing, though, was that he now could see clearly what was happening, and even knew, through that girl, where it might all head if he weren't careful. He had insight, and that protected him, he thought. True, what had happened so far was strange, but he was going to catch it before it went too far. He wasn't being held captive, and he would leave in one week's time (or whenever he could find a new place to stay). He was also protected by the fact that he had such a good relationship with Mrs. Williams; they could talk, and she had already accepted the fact that he was moving out. So the babifying process would undoubtedly end here. He almost laughed about it now, how silly he'd been to have come even this far. But thank goodness he'd realized the mistake in time. Chapter 10 Buoyed by his new confidence about the situation, he tried to relax and enjoy the lady's company, as they still got along well despite the "punishment." In fact, she seemed even happier than usual, which didn't surprise him, but he was content to take advantage of it. They watched TV all evening, and periodically he would go out to the kitchen to be alone for a moment so he could pee in private. Soon his diaper became quite boggy, and though he wanted to keep the number of changes down to a minimum, he couldn't keep her from noticing the diaper's sag. "Looks like there's a little boy with wet pants," she said cheerfully, making him blush. "Come on, let's go change that wet diaper." During the diaper change, Mrs. Williams mentioned that as long as he was in diapers, it didn't hurt to take advantage of them. "What do you mean?" he asked. "Well, one of the best parts about wearing a diaper is that you don't have to worry about sphincter tone, which takes more concentration than you realize." "No, it doesn't. It's easy." Derek didn’t know what she was talking about. "Oh, yeah?" she challenged. "Then try to keep it relaxed for a while. Heck, try it all week. See how nice it is not to worry about it. See how relaxed you can be; you might as well, because you'll never again get the opportunity. It's interesting to see what the body normally does that you're not even aware of. Test the limits of your consciousness this week; see how aware you are and if you can change it." Science had always attracted him, and this little experiment sounded interesting. He hardly saw the harm in it; it was just a week, after all, and it was a unique challenge. So after he was changed, he started trying to relax completely, and began to train the appropriate muscles to relax more often. It might keep the week interesting. The following morning was something he knew in advance he would *not* enjoy, as he was sure it would be the occasion of his regular bowel movement. And sure enough, right after a breakfast of pancakes, he felt the abdominal rumblings, and he excused himself to his bedroom, where at least he could have some privacy. He found he needed to squat to get it out, and as he did so, he remembered the displeasure he'd felt the first time. This time, too, the sensations that he felt were disgusting to him, utterly gross and uncomfortable. After he was done, and his diaper was full, he stood for a second trying to decide what to do now. Embarrassing as it would be to face Mrs. Williams with his messy diaper, he knew she expected it, and the sooner he was changed (and the less he moved around) the more comfortable and easier it would all be. It might be possible to get changed before his mess got all squished into his diaper. From his perspective, the easier the cleanup, the better. So he waddled into the kitchen, careful not to move his diaper's contents around too much, but he was dismayed, when he reached the kitchen, to find the lady on the phone. He caught her attention and looked at her questioningly while pointing to his diaper. She nodded, put her hand over the phone, and whispered, "I'll probably be a little while. Why don't you go sit down in the living room and I'll come change you in a few minutes?" His spirits sank. He hadn't considered having to wait. What terrible luck. He walked carefully into the den, and, not wanting to sit, stood in front of the TV, watching disinterestedly. After several minutes, he got tired of the odors wafting up toward his face, and impatient with the lady, and he wandered back to the kitchen, again standing in front of her. She looked up, and smiled indulgently. "It's okay," she whispered. "I'm not done yet. Go sit down. I'm sure that diaper will still be there in a few minutes." And then she gently turned him toward the den and patted his rear end condescendingly, inadvertently spreading his mess around a little. He grimaced at that sensation, and, exasperated, he slowly walked back to the den and stood for several more minutes before giving up. He went to the couch and gingerly sat down. He was immediately unhappy he had done so, for he exquisitely felt his bowel movement compress and expand across his bottom, the warmth spreading between his legs. He nearly gagged as he tried to picture what was happening. Fifteen minutes later his landlady strolled in and asked if he was wet. Derek hesitated. "No...It's, well, the other thing." "Ohhhh, does my little boy have a poopy diaper?" she asked in baby talk. He blushed as she held out her hand for him to take, and he self-consciously let her lead him into the changing room, where he gingerly hopped up onto the table. She saw his expression as he gently lowered himself back into his mess, and she laughed. "Relax," she teased. "There's nothing in there that will break." He couldn't laugh with her, for he felt that at the moment his ego was fairly fragile. He laid down, and nearly choked at the smell released by his actions. She, however, seemed not to notice. She lifted his legs and carefully undid his diaper. He closed his eyes, trying to pretend he wasn't there. But she wouldn't let him. "Whoa!" she exclaimed. "You were busy, weren't you? But, then, you're a big boy, and I guess big babies have big poops." She continued talking about his bowel movement, and he continued to try to ignore her as she busied herself with her task of cleaning him. In less time than he would have imagined, she was already powdering him and taping a clean diaper on. "Now that was a lot easier than having to do it yourself, wasn't it? Don't you feel better?" He had to admit that yes it was, and yes it did. And with that initiation behind him, things went more smoothly. He spent his time that week catching up on sleep, watching football on TV, reading novels. She cooked and cleaned for him, and other than the obvious embarrassment, which he found was beginning slowly to diminish, they enjoyed each other's company. Chapter 11 He didn't go out very much, mostly to rent movies for the two of them to watch. It was a pain to get ready to go, and he was terrified of being seen wearing diapers. Several things began to happen that week. One was that Derek became, if not comfortable, then at least relatively resigned to the diapers and being changed by Mrs. Williams. He had to admit it was nice not to worry about the bathroom, and he tried not to think that much about it. Consequently, the second thing that happened was that he was pretty successful training himself to relax over the course of the week. He felt secure about his diaper's ability to contain whatever he could dish out, and he began hardly to notice peeing in them. He decided that despite his complaining, the diapers *were* pretty comfortable, after all. The bowel movements were not pleasant, but they were necessary, and he decided to bear that burden as admirably as he could. Complaining wouldn't help. He just counted the days until he could do it in private again. And by the following Friday, he was wetting freely and without inhibition; there had even been many times that he'd been surprised when Mrs. Williams told him he was wet. So all in all, he spent the week relatively happy, rested, and carefree, though he was certainly ready for Saturday morning when it came. It had been interesting, but he was ready to get back to life as usual. And after the embarrassment of the whole thing, he was still definitely ready to move out. Saturday morning found him lying on the changing table having a wet diaper removed for what he was sure would the last time. He thanked her for releasing him from his disposable confines, and headed off to the shower, where he began to think about how he was going to approach his search for a new apartment. He had kept his word, and hadn't looked yet, but today was definitely the day. In his mind he made a list of areas he wanted to check out. Surely someone had a room they could rent him, and not everyone was a diaper freak, right? As he dried himself off he thought of what he might say if they asked where he had been living and for references. He knew she liked him but he didn't know whether she'd feel compelled to mention to potential landlords the bedwetting incident, or the toilet incident, and he was afraid of how embarrassing that could be if word of the whole thing got out. Somehow, he'd have to swear her to secrecy, or this attempt to move out would fail. He went to his room to dress and was as pleased not to be wearing a diaper as he was disturbed that he hadn't received his underpants back yet. He dressed without them, meaning to ask her about them later. He went to the kitchen for breakfast. They ate waffles in silence, and as they finished, he cleared his throat. "I've decided to go ahead and look for a new place," he said. "It's nothing personal, but the whole diaper situation has some serious drawbacks when it comes to socializing, you know. I've thought a lot about this, and although I like you and everything, I think I need a change." She smiled at this. "You just had one." Then she nodded seriously and asked, "What will you do about your bedwetting problem? You think that will stop just because you move or stop wearing diapers?" He hadn't thought about that. He stood and took his dishes to the sink as he said, "I don't know. But I do know it never happened once before I moved in, so I think it was just a fluke, or maybe related to stress. I've just got to trust that since I'm an adult, that kind of babyish thing won't happen again." As he finished speaking he glanced at her but saw that she wasn't looking at his face; her eyes were directed just above his knees. And then he felt it: a familiar warmth spreading through his crotch. But then he felt an unfamiliar, colder wetness spreading too. He looked down and realized in horror that he was wetting his pants! He hadn't even noticed. He gasped in shock and embarrassment, and tried to stop, but had some trouble. By the time he clamped down enough, dark streaks ran down his legs, and his shoes were wet. He couldn't do anything but stare at what he'd just done, something that hadn't happened since the first grade. He heard her say, "Looks like you've got more of a problem than you thought." "Oh, no. I...I guess it's from this week, when I tried not to hold it. Oh, shit. I trained myself to do this whenever I had to. Damn. How long will it take to train myself back? Excuse me, I've got to go..." "I think you can wait a moment," Mrs. Williams interrupted. "The damage appears to be done, and we've got some talking to do." Derek shifted weight, very uncomfortably, looking down. His legs were getting very cold. Suddenly a light flashed, and he jerked his head up. He couldn't believe it. She'd just taken a picture of him in his wet pants! He stared, dumbfounded, no longer sure of what was going on or who was in charge anymore. She smiled at him, which didn't help his confidence. "I also think we both know you're not really moving out." He tried to reassert his control over the situation. This wasn't how it was supposed to go. "But I am. I'm going out looking today." "In wet pants? That'll go over big. I don't think a lot of landlords are going to be interested in a bedwetter, much less one who pees in his pants." She looked again pointedly at his crotch, which he could feel getting still colder and less comfortable. He caught himself thinking that at least when he wore diapers it felt warm and nice. He shook his head. "But I never used to do this. I don't ever remember this happening before now." "You'd have trouble convincing me of that," she laughed. "And who do you think they'd believe? Me or you?" He gasped. His mouth dropped open. "You wouldn't tell them, would you?" She paused; his heart beat wildly. "Well, you have to understand that we landlords are a closeknit bunch in this little town. We have many similar interests, financial and otherwise. I have a responsibility to share with the others any information I think they need to know. And you already know how I feel about bedwetting.” She shook her head. “So although I like you a lot, I'm afraid that's something they'd need to know." His strength waned, and he felt weak in his knees. This was disastrous. He needed her help, or at least her silence, to get a good place. Last week, that seemed likely, when she'd seemed resigned to his leaving. But this week she seemed determined to force him to stay. But she couldn't stop him if she didn't know he was trying to move out, he thought slyly. He quickly murmured something about her being right, and that he wouldn't leave, and then he tried to shuffle out of the kitchen to his room. He could sneak out and find a room before she knew it. But as he walked past, she froze him with her next revelation. "That won't work either, I'm afraid. It's too late for covert operations. You see, I asked you to wait a week before looking around not because I thought you might change your mind, but because I needed time to notify all the other landlords in town about your little problem.” Mrs. Williams smiled. “I finished that yesterday. And just as I thought, all agreed that it would be `an insurmountable barrier' to a lease. And that was before I knew about your daytime wetting problem." She shook her head. "Can you imagine what they'd say if they knew that?" He was stunned. Absolutely stunned. He knew she wanted him to stay, but he hadn't suspected that she'd lie to him and blackmail him to convince him. He didn't know whether she was telling the truth now or not, but he didn't really want to find out. To be turned down because of wetting himself would be humiliating beyond his wildest dreams. Derek was screwed, completely. He staggered back into the kitchen and leaned against the counter, not wanting to sit down in his wet pants. He was silent for a moment as he made the decision, finally, to confront her. "Why in the world are you doing this to me? What kind of a crazy old woman are you? You want to ruin my life? Well, you're doing a pretty good job. What did I ever do to earn this? Why do you want to hurt me like this?" He was nearly crying now. "I don't want to hurt you," Mrs. Williams said soothingly. "Bullshit!" he yelled. "I've talked to other people. You do this every year to someone. You've got some weird thing about diapers and making people into babies. I've heard about you, you bitch. You can't deny it." She shook her head. "Those are rumors. If you'll calm down a moment, I'll tell you the truth." He stood, arms folded, waiting. Would this be another lie, or the real thing? "The truth is that I care deeply about the students that end up living here. They come into my home and become special to me. They pay the rent; in return I try to satisfy some of their needs while protecting my property like any landlord. Many of the boys I have are bedwetters, and the others I kind of `help' along one way or another. How I do that is a secret, of course." He looked confused. She'd fabricated the bedwetting incident? How? Mrs. Williams smiled at him. "Because whether you know it or not, you all have the same problem, which, of course, is that you're away from your mommy for the first time and need, on some level, to be babied a little. I know what you kids need, probably better than you, because I've seen your kind before, and I know. If they wet the bed, fine. If they don't, I find an excuse to treat them as if they did." She smiled happily at him. "I don't tell them right away what I'm doing, because I know they'd object to this kind of help if it was offered to them all at once at the beginning. So I phase it in slowly, and when I feel that they're ready for it all, *then* I tell them what's going on." With a proud smile, she said, "And now it's your turn." "Turn for what? I don't need any help," he asked angrily. "Well, the fact of the matter is," she began slowly, staring straight into his flushed and angry face, "that you're going to be my baby for a while, and I'll serve as your mommy in this town, until I feel that you've adjusted enough to this college atmosphere that you don't need my help anymore. I'll be honest: that could be several weeks, or it could last the whole time you're here at school. I can't tell at this point." "Are you insane?" Derek asked incredulously. "What makes you think I want this or will let this happen?" "It's pretty simple," she said calmly. "Everything we've done up to this point, the diapers, the changings, everything, has just been practice. Sort of an orientation for what lies ahead. Most boys have the most problem with the diapers, so I tried to phase them in gradually. And you willingly accepted them at every stage, even up through last week, when you wore them all the time, like you will from now on." Mrs. Williams paused and then answered his question. "You see, I'm sure this is what's right for you, so I made sure that it didn't really matter *how* you felt, or if you wanted to do it. It doesn't matter at all what you want. We've come this far, and I won't let all that time and energy be wasted. There is no turning back now.” She sipped her coffee. “When you gave me your underpants last week, I took them all to the Salvation Army," she told him. "It's all over, and, in fact, it has been all over since you signed your lease." "Wanna bet?" Derek challenged. "You're crazy, and I'm getting out of here. I don't care what you've told the other landlords. When I explain to them what happened, they'll understand. It'll be a little embarrassing, but nothing compared to what happens if I stay with you! See ya." And he stormed quickly from the room. Mrs. Williams caught up with him in his room as he was getting out some clean jeans and socks. "I understand how you feel," she said, "but I still don't think you'll leave. I don't think you want me posting these fliers all over campus." She handed him a page that said: ."LOST!! This year's baby from 1169 Oak St.! May be seen wearing diapers, plastic training pants, which may be wet or dirty. If found, please return to his mommy. He's been very bad, and he needs a spanking!" And under the words were a picture of him in a diaper and the plastic pants, apparently taken when he was asleep, with his name and physical description. He grabbed it angrily, tore it into as many pieces as he could, and threw it onto the floor. "I've got lots more," she said quietly. With a wave of despair Derek realized she'd won. He couldn't leave, not without sacrificing his friends, shelter, and dignity. He thought briefly about leaving college, but the thought of that was even more absurd. Where would he go? His cold, wet pants only added to his misery. He sat down on his desk chair with an uncomfortable squish, and asked through tears, "Why do you hate me?" He thought about the past several months, when he had trusted her, thinking she was just a little weird, thinking he was really *choosing* to play her game for a while, when all the time she was deceiving and manipulating him, trapping and humiliating him. Mrs. Williams stood next to him and ran her fingers through his hair. "Oh, sweetie, I don't hate you. On the contrary, I care very much about you. But I had to do this to you because it's so obviously what you need, what will be good for you. Someday I'm sure you'll thank me, but you've just got to trust me for now. It won't be so bad, you'll see. You've already gotten through most of the worst, I promise. And once you accept it, it'll make it a lot easier, too." She talked softly to him, comforting him with a maternal flair that was honed by years of practice. He'd stopped crying by now. "How long do I have to wear diapers *this* time?" he asked sadly. "Like I told you, I'm not sure. At least through the end of this semester, but probably longer. There's a good chance you'll wear them for your whole four years here. We'll just have to take it a day at a time." He sat in silence for a moment, shaking his head slowly and trying to let his situation sink in. "I can't believe I have to wear diapers again." She nodded sympathetically. "Most boys think that they're worse than the other stuff, but you'll get used to it all." Derek looked at her, worried. "What other stuff?" "Oh, do you want to go over it now?" she asked. "Well, I guess we should." "*What* other stuff? There's more?!" he asked unhappily. He'd missed this point somehow. "Oh, yes, sweetie. Diapers are only one part of being a baby," she laughed. "For starters, I don't know if you noticed the attachments on the bed for railings, but it's a pretty secure crib when we get it put together. “Then there are the clothes, which are just darling. They were made by some of my retired friends, who love to see them modeled each year; they've been dying to meet you, but, of course, I've had to wait to introduce you until after today. I've also got some lovely footed sleepers with wrist ties, some toddler pants complete with snaps...you'll love them. “I've also got a nice high chair we need to bring down from the attic, where I stored your changing table, and some pretty bibs. We'll need to get those cupboard locks back out, because you may not like your new diet, which will change kind of drastically. And the bathrooms will stay locked, of course, but that won't be a problem, since you won't have to bathe yourself anymore. You'll love some of the toys I've accumulated; you'll spend countless hours playing with them in your playpen, I'm sure." Mrs. Williams smiled at him as he sat in shock. "I know it's a lot to take in, but if you got through the diapers, you should get through this eventually." Derek just sat there, in shock, his world spinning around him. What would that sophomore girl say? Somehow he didn't think he stood much of a chance to date her now. And his parents and friends: how could he keep this a secret? "Well, let's get those wet pants off of you. She led him into the changing room and helped him remove the sopping jeans. She used baby wipes to dry him as he stood there, overwhelmed with shame at not having noticed his babification over the past several months. How could this have happened? How would he ever endure? She interrupted his musings as she sat on the edge of the room's only chair, saying: "One more thing. You've said several naughty words recently, and you tried to lie to me about not moving out a little while ago, so I think it's time you got acquainted with an important concept in a baby's life: discipline." Mrs. Williams sat on the chair and patted her knees expectantly, indicating that he take the appropriate position over them. Derek shook his head sadly and his eyes teared up as he slowly walked over to her.

? Matilda the Bear By Horatio Husky Commission for ArtMckinley Chapter I. Matilda inhaled deeply, closing her eyes as the night air of the forest filled her spirit lungs and nostrils with a sweet, damp scent. The leaves and branches crunched satisfyingly underneath her large foot paws as she walked along her usual midnight stroll, the bottom of her dress billowing beneath her but above the dew covered grass, keeping itself away from its moisture. The being had dressed herself in a maternal looking apron on top of her dress, resembling the image of a motherly caretaker from decades past. She always had a habit of taking a while to catch up to modern fashions, and enjoyed staying a little behind in the times. Her figure was still intimidating despite her motherly appearance, long brown hair, a towering height of well over seven feet, and as with most females bear spirits she bore heavy set breasts and large arms and legs. As a spirit, however, she wasn’t bothered by her appearance, and fully embraced her largeness with a positive personality. Not to mention, she had other worries than how she looked. Her concerns were with the locals and their relation to the forest, keeping sure that each stayed where they belonged and didn’t bother each other too much. That’s when the car with its brights on and music blaring decided to park by the side of the road bordering the forest, her ears perked up, and she followed the source of the noise. Goodness me! If this is Tom again getting home late and drunk his wife isn’t the only one that is going to have strong words with him, she thought to herself annoyedly, remembering how one of the locals had a bad habit of drinking and driving, and how on multiple occasions she had to nurse him back to health herself. The distinct smell of booze was in the air as she approached, her sensitive nostrils picking up a few other choice scents as she drew closer. Are those teenagers out again sleeping with each other away from their parents? Goodness me the youth today truly are shameless! At last she stood next to the car by the passenger side window, she leaned over and peeked inside. Much to her horror, the scene before her was uglier than any she had seen before. Covered in sweat and runny make-up a girl who looked to be in her early twenties lay in the driver’s seat, her breath reeking of alcohol as she moaned to herself loudly, her right hand stuck in the front of her pants working its way in and out of what Matilda presumed to be her unspeakables. Several black highlights were present in her dirty blonde hair, and she was clad in what was in Matilda’s opinion, “Scant, modern rags.” “What do you think you’re doing, young lady? Do you know what time it is? And goodness gracious, do you have any idea how naughty this behavior is! Drunk and touching yourself in the middle of the forest, tsk tsk. You do know that it's a school night and the squirrel kids have to be up bright and early to go to their nut-gathering classes! And don’t even get me started on the birds and worms!” The young woman started at first, turning to gaze at the forest spirit and narrowing her eyes, having difficulty focusing on her blacked out state. Suddenly comprehension dawned on her incapacitated state of mind, and she let out a yelp. “BEAR! PLEASE SOMEBODY HELP THERE’S A BEAR OUTSIDE MY WINDOW!” She fumbled with her keys to get them into the ignition, but Matilda was too quick for her. “You’re not going anywhere tonight young lady, you’re coming with me!” Before she realized what was happening, the bear had walked around the front of the car, opened the driver’s seat, and gently extricated the young lady from her car. Cradling her gently in her arms, she entered into a brisk walk back into the forest towards her home, the young lady blinking and trying to come to her senses while the world spun around her. “L-let me go! I don’t want to be eaten! W-why are you talking anyway… What are you… You’re a bear!” The young woman’s words slurred, which only added to Matilda’s disapproval, “Your behavior is absolutely inappropriate, young lady, a fine thing such as yourself has so much more potential in this world. Ladies like you should be in school learning to make the world a better place, not ravaging through drink and self-indulgence! And if not school you should be finding yourself a husband or wife! This really doesn’t suit you.” The young woman was now utterly confused. Why is this bear talking to me like she’s my mom? Did somebody slip something into my drink and now I’m hallucinating? Before long the party of two had arrived at Matilda’s cottage, a humble looking abode with smoke coming out of a chimney in the back and a comfortable looking porch in the front. “Let’s get you cleaned up now and perhaps something warm in your stomach, if it can handle it. How does that sound, kitten?” ‘Kitten’ blinked her eyes, unable to believe what she was seeing. The inside of the cottage looked nothing like she expected it too. They hadn’t entered a one room building like she expected, but they were now standing in the front hallway of what looked to be quite a large house. As her blurry vision cleared slightly, she saw a staircase leading up to a second floor, and several rooms connecting to each other on the first floor including a kitchen, living room, and what she presumed to be a dining room. “How… What… Wh-” “Hush now dearest, we need to get you cleaned up and in your crib! It’s way past your bed-time.” The young lady was now utterly confused, and almost completely convinced that what she was experiencing was either a hallucination or a drunkenly induced dream. “I’m never drinking again…” she muttered to herself, rather unconvincingly. “Well that’s a start at least! There’s plenty of other things I’ll be training out of you, but that's the one that’s definitely near the top of the list!” After wiping her foot-paws on the rug near the front of the door and locking the door behind her, the bear carried her charge up the stairs of her home and turned a corner, leading them into a white, spacious bathroom. Patterns of smiling ducks, sailors, and beach animals decorated the walls, and a large bathtub in the corner decorated the interior of the bathroom space. Before she had time to marvel at how clean and pristine the bear kept the place looking, Kitten found the bear was now tugging at her clothing, stripping her down naked. “What are you doing!? D-don’t take my clothes off!” The bear stopped for a moment, a patient expression on her muzzle as she set the girl down on the counter. Adopting a chiding tone, she explained, “Now now little one, I can’t get you cleaned up if you’re still wearing all this icky clothing! Not to mention they’re not fit for somebody as pretty as you. Be good now!” She shook her head, still protesting, “Stop touching my clothes you stupid bitch, I told you I didn’t want your help!” Suddenly the world shifted and turned almost upside down. Before she knew it, she was lying stomach down in the bear’s lap. “What are you- OWW!” Whap! went Matilda’s paw as she spanked her charge’s now exposed behind. She cried out, much to her own surprise as tears poured down her cheeks. Matilda tutted under her breath and continued to rhythmically deliver punishment onto her kitten’s behind. “Now look what I have to do, I don’t like giving spankings but you have simply given me no choice. I bet your mother would not approve of the potty mouth that you have developed either!” At this point the girl was now sobbing, snot coming out of her nostrils as the tears further smudged her already spread make-up. Matilda’s ears perked up, as she heard the human mutter and babble out what sounded like a pitiful apology. She quirked an eyebrow, and paused a little longer before she delivered the next smack on the quickly reddening cheeks of her charge. Well that was quick… She seems to be pretty malleable in this state… Hmm… Perhaps…? Speaking in a clear voice, she paused after her 19th spank and addressed the pitiful looking girl in her lap in an authoritative tone. “Now then, are you going to be speaking like that to Mama Bear ever again? Or do I have to show you more of what girls with potty mouths get?” Practically blubbering, the young woman shook her head and managed to stammer out, “N-no… I’m not going to s-speak like that to you again… P-promise!” She spoke, her words intermixed with hiccups and shaking sobs. Matilda realized that she was barely lucid as she lay completely still and limp in her lap, unable to resist the punishment that she had been delivering on her bare behind. She continued, maintaining the same dominating tone of voice as she further chastised, “I thought so! Drinking and touching yourself and staying out late at night, not to mention driving under the influence! You’ve been a very, very naughty girl and you’re going to get even more spanking if you keep this up! You’re lucky I’m letting you off tonight because you’re tired and probably are in great need of a bath and a good night’s sleep! Are you going to behave for me while I clean you up, young lady?” Nodding emphatically, the girl continued to sob and pant in Matilda’s lap. Matilda gently lifted her charge up and laid her head against her shoulder, standing up and supporting her underneath her bottom as she did so. “Now then, let’s get you cleaned up shall we?” Gently carrying her over to the bathtub she deposited her inside, turning the water on and tugging off the young woman’s shirt, the last of the clothing that she had been wearing. “Now, what should we call you?” Matilda mused to herself out loud, as she turned on the warm water and adjusted the girl’s body into a rough sitting position, pouring some shampoo into the water as it began to rise up around her legs. “Hmm… I think Annie would suit you quite nicely, don’t you think so dear?” Annie’s eyes fluttered in response, and she groaned softly, her brow furrowing in a contorted, pained expression. A second trickle sounded in the air, and Matilda quickly realized that her blacked out charge was now adding her own urine to the bathwater. “Goodness me! It’s a good thing we got you in the bath before you soiled yourself! We’re going to have to do something about that if you’re going to be sleeping on my bed sheets! Now, I should still have the nursery set up.” Turning off the faucets she drained the bath before turning on the hot water once more. Retrieving a large rag she dipped it into the steaming water and started to gently wash the girl’s body, holding her various limbs and taking great care that her washing felt soft and gentle. The bear began to hum a tune under her breath as she worked away, speaking softly and cooing over Annie as she washed the make-up from her face and dabbed at her sensitive bits, ensuring that she was clean from top to bottom. “That should do it, all squeaky clean! Let’s get you dried then.” She turned off the water and pulled the plug, letting the bathwater and soap suds swirl away as she picked Annie up and out of the tub, laying her down on a towel she had spread on the bathroom floor. Annie could barely comprehend what was happening to her as Matilda ruffled her short, tomboyish hair in a towel and wrapped her up in the one she was laying on. Satisfied that she was dry, the bear scooped her up, still wrapped in the towel and carried her out of the bathroom. Walking down the hallway she took a left before she entered a room that Annie thought must have been a figment of her imagination. It looked like a regular nursery, except every piece of furniture, toys, and even the diapers beneath the changing table seemed to be oversized. Annie blinked twice, her vision still blurry, and a singular thought bubbled up to the surface of her drunken mind, “I crashed my car, hit my head, and now I’m seeing things…”

I know, I know "Another new story from Kasarberang that's going to take literal years between chapters" Allow me to explain. I write as a hobby, one of a great many hobbies that my brain alternates between, right now Writing is the hobby in focus so hopefully I'll be able to pump out a few chapters of this story and maybe the other ones as well. Unfortunately I make no promises as to how often this story or any others will be updated, it might be once a week or more: This was the case for "Just A Checkup" before I wrote myself into a dead end (I'm planning to rewrite that story and continue it at some point) and it might be way less frequent "Babied By The Sitter" (Still in progress). I'm not a writer, I'm just a guy who does writing sometimes Anyway, I had this idea for a story and I hope I can do it justice. As always feel free to remix, modify, redistribute any of my stories however you like. If you like the setting, characters or anything else feel free to use it. I wont mind, in fact I'd love to see what you can do with my ideas. So PM me if you do make anything that you decide to release. (Tags will be updated as the story progresses.) My Time At The Everland Farm All Characters involved in a sexual situation in this story are at or above the age of consent, even if their ages aren't directly stated. Also this story is entirely a work of fiction and absolutely nothing in it actually happened. Art by: Ruperallmighty Email: Ruperallmighty@gmail.com Twitter: https://twitter.com/Ruperallmighty Art Officially Approved to comply with DD rules by: DailyDi. My name is Daniel I'm 22 years old and this story is of my time at The Everland Farm. The story starts at my house, I had just gotten this mornings mail and saw a letter addressed to me. It read: "Work getting you down? Need a break from the stresses of daily life? Need a vacation? Than come on over to The Everland Farm for a nice change of pace! Experience four weeks free of the stresses of daily life! And with this special offer you can enjoy all four weeks 100% FREE! Lodging included." It even included a valid bus ticket. This letter didn't apply to me at all, I enjoyed my job working as a developer in a small Indie Game studio, the stresses of daily life were minimal at best and I much preferred to be at home. Not to mention a 100% all expenses paid vacation seemed super sketch to say the least. Probably some shitty timeshare or some pyramid scheme of some sort, neither of which I wanted any part of. So I threw the letter on my couch with all the other junk mail, intending to either throw it away or shred it. == A few days went by and I had spoken to some friends and family about the letter. Almost everyone unanimously said I should go, which honestly didn't surprise me, everyone's always telling me I need to get out more and here is seemingly an offer that gives me no excuse but to do just that. Whenever I expressed my concerns they just replied "Just record everything that goes on, that way you're far less likely to get mugged." despite the fact that my state has specific laws against recording out in public unless you receive consent from every single person that would be in the recording. It's' an interesting law and is far stricter than most, it's good for privacy but a lot of people are against it, which frankly I can understand. Anyway eventually people bugged me enough about the vacation that I decided to just do it. Even my work told me I should go. At this point I needed a vacation from all the people telling me I needed a vacation. I packed pretty light, not expecting to need too much. I packed my cellphone, a pair of wired earbuds, some spare clothes, A DVD player and some DVDs as well as an emergency battery pack which should get me through the month if used sparingly. Everything fit in a nice backpack that I keep around for travel, despite this being the first time I actually ever used it for that. Usually I just used it to carry around my work laptop with me so I could work a little while away. But I did originally buy it for travel. Once I was packed and ready to go I set out for the bus-station which was only a quick walk from my house so it didn't take me very long to get there, less than five minutes if I had to guess. I gave the driver my ticket and soon I was off to The Everland Farm, to my surprise I was the only passenger on the bus. That could easily be explained away by it being 10am on a weekday, not exactly the most desirable time to take a bus somewhere far away, since most people had work to do. I put in my earbuds and set my phone to play my favorite artist Big Penny, which has gotten me through a lot of long bus rides in the past. This specific album titled: "Heads or Tails" featured other artists such as Jiggo-J and DJ MEMEBOY. It truly was and still is an underrated album. Personally I think it's Big Penny's best work, his other albums were entertaining, but nothing quite had the same feel as "Heads or Tails" did. I think it's cause it's the only time as of writing this that Big Penny, Jiggo-J and DJ MEMEBOY have collaborated on an album together, It's very obvious that they gave their best with this album. "Heads or Tails" came with a total of 26 songs with a total runtime of 5 hours and 15 minutes and only cost $5.99 when it first released. It was the very first album to have over 3hours of content with a price tag below $36. "Last Stop Everland Farms, if you got this far without getting off you either missed your stop or got the wrong bus!" said the bus driver. Yet again Big Penny got me through another otherwise boring bus ride. I thanked the driver and was on my way. The bus didn't stop directly in front of Everland Farms they stopped quite a bit away actually. I could very easily see where the farm was, but it was a bit of a walk to get there. Once I did finally arrive I took a seat on a nearby bench to catch my breath before getting up and looking around. Right away I was surprised at the absolute size of the property it must've been on at least five acres of land. There's no way this is the place I was going to be staying for a whole month, it's far too nice to be completely free, either that or it really is some timeshare or pyramid scheme. You could tell this place had been around for awhile, some buildings looked fairly new, or at least newly painted and others looked like they'd been sitting there for decades, all the buildings had a Little House On The Prairie style and vibe to them. Most of the buildings were double to triple the size of regular buildings I was accustomed to. It had been a few minutes so I decided to get up and start looking around, there didn't seem to be anyone nearby so I figured I'd take a look around myself, kinda give myself the grand-tour of the property, even though I knew nothing about it. I walked around a little before stopping in front of a building which was bigger than the rest, which is saying something since all the buildings on the property were huge. Since I was feeling especially adventurous I decided to let myself in. Right away I noticed the inside of the building felt far larger than the outside, but I'm sure that was just an optical illusion, since all houses felt far bigger on the inside than they did on the outside. Everything downstairs was pretty standard, Standard Living Room, Kitchen, Dining Room. The furniture was far larger than I was used to but I was usually the shortest guy in the room, so maybe this is the standard for people of normal or above average height, I could see that. After having a good look at the downstairs I decided to look upstairs, which presented me with my first major challenge. The steps were far steeper than I was used to, it was like every step was 2 or 3 normal sized steps stacked on top of each other. I found myself lifting my legs up way higher than I was used to when climbing up stairs. I also went up these stairs far slower than I usually would, to reduce the chances of me falling forward or backwards. After climbing up what felt like thousands of stairs I finally reached the top of the staircase. There was a long hallway with doors on each side, all of them with a wooden sign on them labeling what the room's purpose was, which makes sense since this was a public vacation spot, I imagine it'd be a pain to have to explain where every room was every single time there was a new customer. I walked up to the second door on the right labeled "Emily's Room". Letting my curiosity get the better of me I playfully turned the doorknob fully expecting the room to be locked, but to my surprise the knob turned and the door opened with ease. The inside of the room was pink with white trim, even the walls were painted pink with the corners painted white. There was a computer desk, which really made me feel small, I could barely even reach the top of the desk, I knew I was short, but I didn't think I was THAT short. I had to sit in the rolling office chair and put the height up all the way in order to sit at the desk like a regular person. atop the desk sat an old ldrn PC, with matching beige keyboard and mouse. Running an old version of Backdoor OS. I could have gone and looked through the files and search history of the computer, but I decided against it. I was staying here after all and if anyone were to catch me doing that I'd probably be in for a very bad experience. Plus the bus only stops here once a month, which makes sense, considering that's the minimum amount of time you're allowed to stay, otherwise they charge you for leaving early. Looking around the room further I noticed something laying on the floor, walking over to it revealed that it was a bra. It was Sea Foam Green, very frilly and most importantly, it was huge. Holding one of the cups up to my head for size and the cup was larger than my head. "So, I have one question. Why the fuck do you have your faced pressed up against my bra?" Shouted an unfamiliar voice. coming from the doorway. ====End of Chapter 1==== I hope you enjoyed! Please tell me what you think! Your words encourage me to write more frequently. TXT My Time At The Everland Farm ~ A Kasarberang Story (Reader Download) PDF My Time At The Everland Farm ~ A Kasarberang Story (Reader Download).pdf ODT My Time At The Everland Farm ~ A Kasarberang Story (Reader Download).odt

Hello DD community! As some of you might already be aware I made a very similar list awhile ago. The purpose of this post is to remake that list with better formatting, more information and overall make it easier to read and update. User Suggestions Welcomed! Here's How To Suggest A Story! Simply Personal Message me here on DD with a link to the stories you'd like to submit as well as relevant tags. Feel free to also submit modified tags for stories already in the list if you want to. I'll put them in this post as soon as I read the message and verify that the tags are accurate and the story belongs here. I will credit you by default so if you don't want to be credited please explicitly say so in your message to me. I write stories and a lot of them would fit perfectly on this list, why aren't they here? If your story isn't properly tagged I probably will look past it, unless it has a title that makes me think it might fit this list. There are other reasons too, I am only one guy after all. If you have a story that's not on this list and want it to be added feel free to submit it using the information above. Why so many Archive.org links? Archive.org or as it's more formally known "The Wayback Machine" or "The Internet Archive" is a website that allows you to archive entire webpages. I will be using this for preservation purposes. This way if a story goes down (which has happened before) or if DD goes down entirely (which is unlikely) these links will still allow you to continue to view these stories even after such an event. Alright Here's the list! (presented in no particular order.) AUTHOR LIST Chlorobaby All include (Femdom, Forced Regression, Chloroform, Kidnapping/Capture, non-consensual sexual acts) and most include: (forced Breastfeeding, forced bottlefeeding) Nanny Kink (Archive.org link), The Hard Sell (Archive.org), The Crush (Archive.org link), The LandLady (Archive.org link), The Adult Baby Unit: Part One (Archive.org link), Part Two (Archive.org link), Part Three (Archive.org link), Bed and Breakfast: Part One (Archive.org link), Part Two, (Archive.org link), Part Three (Archive.org link), Part Four (Archive.org link), The Job Offer (Archive.org link), Nurse Becky's Slave, (Archive.org link), Cathy's Captive (Archive.org link)The reason these are all grouped together is they were written by the same author and all contain very similar tags. Kasarberang (Me) My Time At The Everland Farm (Femdom, Forced Regression, Slow Regression, Force Feeding, Forced Bottlefeeding, Forced Breastfeeding, Blackmail, Non-con, Giantess, Lactation) Babied By The Sitter (Femdom, Slow Regression, Forced Regression, Bottlefeeding, Humiliation, Babysitter, Wetting and more.) (Archive.org link) Just A Checkup (Forced Regression, Breastfeeding, Bottlefeeding and more!) (Archive.org link) FullDiaper Mommy Clair & I (Femdom, breastfeeding) This one is ongoing and looks promising. (Archive.org link) Raping Excuses (Femdom, Forced Regression, Forced Diapering, Breastfeeding, Bottlefeeding) (Archive.org link) Maggie's Diner (Femdom, Forced Regression, Breastfeeding, Bottlefeeding, Force Feeding) (Archive.org link) Non-Grouped List Flooded. (Femdom, Forced/Coerced Regression, Slow Regression, Breastfeeding, Humiliation) (Archive.org link) Crybaby (Femdom, Forced Regression, Breastfeeding, Handjob, Chastity) (Archive.org link) The Day Care (Femdom, Forcefeeding, Edging, Cock "Milking", Enema) (Archive.org link) Nerissa’s Home for Diaper Girls (Repost) (Femdom, Diaper Dimension, Coerced Regression, Mental Regression, Breastfeeding, Bottlefeeding, Enema, Bladder Torture) (Archive.org link) Stockholm Syndrome Baby (Femdom, Forced Regression, Mental Regression, Hypnosis, Kidnapping, Breastfeeding, Bottlefeeding, Catheter) (Archive.org link) Tourist Troubles (Repost) (Diaper Dimension, Kidnapping "adoption", Bottlefeeding, Sissification, Short, Incomplete) (Archive.org link) Baby Care Class (Remixed) (Femdom, Forced Regression, Humiliation, Torture, Forcefeeding, Breastfeeding, Masturbation, Kidnap/Capture) (Archive.org link) Her Sister's Baby (Femdom, Coerced Regression, Feeding, Masturbation, Bottlefeeding) (Archive.org link) Baby Candy by Baby Jennie (Femdom, Forced Regression, Bottlefeeding, Sissification) (Archive.org link) Training her baby (Sissification, Breastfeeding, Chastity, Bottlefeeding, Forcefeeding) (Archive.org link) Day at the beach (Bottlefeeding, Humiliation, Regression) (Archive.org link) The Domme on the Bus (Femdom, Humilation) (Archive.org link) Unlucky Day Turned Lucky (Diaper Dimension, Force Regression, Bottlefeeding, Breastfeeding) (Archive.org link) Immigrant Tale (Diaper Dimension, Femdom/Mommy Dom, Forced Breastfeeding, Sissification,Forced Regression) (Archive.org link) Simple bedwetter to full time baby (Forced Regression, Regression, Mommy Dom, Breastfeeding, Forced Bottlefeeding) (Archive.org link) Feeding With Jen (Forced Wetting;Femdom, Coerced Regression) (Archive.org link) At The Wrong Place At The Wrong Time (Diaper Dimension, Slow Regression, Forced Regression, Breastfeeding) (Archive.org link) From Teacher to Toddler (Forced Regression, Mistaken Identity, Bottlefeeding, Breastfeeding, Forcefeeding) (Archive.org link) Weekend At Betty's (Forced Regression, Femdom, Masturbation, Diapers,  Forced Bottlefeeding) (Archive.org link) Submitted by: Mcraft | On The Job Training (Femdom, Enslavement, Forced Regression, Sissification, Forced Anal, and Bondage (Archive.org link)

**About this story- Hi! Guys, I’ve been writing stories over the years but have taken a break. Decided to do something a little different. Change roles a bit. Hope you guys enjoy it… I’d love to get more ideas to write, send me positive feedback, let’s see where this goes. ** Chapter 1- My new life has been one huge roller coaster. I’ve always had a vision of finding a daddy & becoming his forever baby girl. I was a picky baby girl, always looking for the perfect looking daddy, it took me years- but I finally found him. We spoke for a few months & he seemed to be just the one, checked off all the boxes of what I wanted as my daddy dom. But there was just ONE small problem, he has a wife. I wasn’t sure if I wanted to share him, I wasn’t bi, nor curious- but he said mommy wouldn’t want to be sexually involved with me, so he made me feel a little better, she would just expect me to be more of the servant at the house, cooking, cleaning, laundry. I said I could do that! They came into town to meet me one day & we spent the day together, having lunch, shopping & just getting to know each other. We chatted about what was expected from each other if we were going to move in… they were from up North, & they were well off, so I would be moving in with them. I’d get to take 2 of my dogs & live out my baby life with them. At 30, I wasn’t 100% sure what I wanted in life. I’ve been wearing diapers as a fetish since I was 19, been sneaking them on since I was 14, only to drown out the dreams I’ve been having since I was 12. I’ve had my fair share of relationships but nothing lasted. I never imagined that I would be 30, still interested in diapers, I thought that when I would start wearing at 19, the phase would finally die out, but nope. I always looked for daddies online, wore my diapers every so often, and was an online baby girl for those daddies, but no one was ever ready. When I realized, I couldn’t hold a relationship nor keep a job for very long, I realized I needed to be dependent on someone, & that realization came in the form of being someone’s baby girl & becoming a baby slave of some sort where I’d wear diapers pretty much 247, as most daddies out there wanted. I was scared to start this adventure but I knew it’s what I needed in my life. I couldn’t amount to anything so I thought this would be the best option. The expectation laid out in front of me was what I thought would be simple… I’d be a diaper slave, around the age of 3 or 4. I would be regressed to a toddler & treated as such, however I’d still have teenager responsibilities- clean, cook, do laundry, take care of the dogs ( all eventually, until then I’d have a nanny/ housekeeper doing things), along with helping mommy as her assistant. I was to wear diapers 24/7, drink from a bottle, still attached to her pacifier, I’d be allowed big kid food but cut into toddler pieces, eat in a high chair, & still have a sex drive, an extreme one at that! I guess I could handle that. Move in would happen within 3-4 weeks. We needed time to get my room together & I packed up all my stuff, sold everything & get my papers in order ( turn in the apt, sell my things, close the bank account & make mommy & daddy my conservator). Story was, I couldn’t take care of myself any longer & needed supervision, & “rehab” to rehabilitate my life. Daddy had a doctor friend within the lifestyle that could help sign all the papers, & his secretary (slave wife) is a notary, so everything looked legit. That’s it, I was in it for good. I was legally theirs. I never saw 3 weeks pass so quickly, I sold about 95% of everything I owned & my apt was turned in. Daddy & my new mommy came to get me in their RV, easier to move the remaining of my things & transport the dogs. We had a 12+ hr trip back to my forever home or so I thought. Chapter 2- Chapter 2- It had actually taken 6 days to get home, on the way home we had stopped to see one of daddies special doctor friends. I was put through a surgery that was to help me with my new life, as I later found out I was given the gastric sleeve surgery to help me lose weight over time, along with a snip to my bladder to weaken it for good, & to add to it all, they they snipped a piece of my vocal cord, so I always have a type of squeaky voice to seem like a younger voice as well as to where I also couldn’t complete my words as well. That was a surprise to me as I wasn’t allowed to talk since I got to the Drs office, & since then I’ve had a pacifier locked in my mouth that had a cap on it that was removed to insert a long straw/ catheter to allow me to drink my liquid diet. During the time I had chatted with Daddy I had mentioned that I was overweight & had a desire to lose a good amount of weight. I guess he took it seriously & made it easy for me to lose that weight w/ the surgery. I was told I’d lose between 90-120lbs within 6-8 months. It also came as a surprise when they told me no more solids as their slave. I was shocked as we had talked about me being allowed to eat regular food. They said they didn’t want me to regain the weight later, so that my liquid diet would be controlled by all the calories & vitamins I’d need for at least the next few years. By the time we were home, I was already in pull-ups & being changed about 6x a day. Daddy was annoyed by this & said I was becoming too much work, & wanted me to have less changes. That I had more important things to be trained on than to stop & get changed, or fed. So I was put into an extra thick diaper with a stuffer in it, & hoped it lasted at least 8 hrs, therefore I’d go to 3 changes a day. Somehow I was always messy at my changes & figured there was something in the food I was being given, along with a diuretic. After a few weeks I was messing at least 2-3x a day, & my diapers were constantly full. It had been a month since I arrived & since my surgery & I had lost about 20 lbs already. I was put on the scale once a week to make sure I was losing weight, they wanted to make sure I was getting the correct calorie intake as well. Everything looked like it was on track. I was losing weight & couldn’t believe it, it had been 15+ years since I started gaining massive weight & 8 yrs since I was under 230lbs. At the end of the day, I didn’t care how I was treated, as long as I knew I’d be skinny again, one day. Would I ever be able to show it off like I wanted, doubt it- but again, I’d be healthy again too. Over this past month, life was almost normal other than being diapered everyday, having a pacifier locked onto me & my liquid diet, daddy making me orgasm daily- I was still allowed to walk, communicate in some way, watch TV, sleep on a normal bed, get online, keep an extensive journal as daddy wanted, I was living a DL life, I just had a few chores to do around the house as well, but little did I know things were about to change. I knew that I was going to become a sexual slave to a point, daddy wanted to keep me as horny as possible, especially to getting used to my diapers after an orgasm. When I was alone, I loved cumming in my diaper, but I would get turned off right after, & changed almost right away, & daddy didn’t want that, I had to learn how to stay diapered after I came, I mean I was going to be diapered 247 after all. Every morning I woke up messy, so daddy would wake me up with a wand until I orgasmed. He then cuddled with me, patting my diaper & reminding me that it was ok to stay in my diaper until I calmed down enough from the session I just had, & ronce I was calmed down, I was taken out of bed & waddled my way down to breakfast. A routine he wanted me to get used to is always eat while I was messy- it would remind me of my place, that I had no control of when I’d get changed, & to remind me of the baby I was eventually becoming. After breakfast I was taken to the bathroom for a shower & back into a fresh diaper & expected to have it wet within 3 minutes of being changed. This was done so I was never very long in a dry diaper, & also to make sure I was constantly pushing on my bladder. That was another rule, the constant forcing of pushing myself to pee. I have a Fitbit watch, which has an alarm that goes off as a vibration on my wrist reminding me every 10 mins to push on my bladder & try to pee. Daddy found on Etsy a baby motivational 32oz bottle that was modified for an adult nipple on it with a strap around the neck that can be locked onto my wrist, meaning it wasn’t going anywhere. I was expected to empty the bottle within the hour. By the end of that hour, I would be pretty wet.

Curse of the Crinkle Crate Composed by Horatio Husky Featuring and Commissioned by Kazard the Fox! Chapter 1 The Box I… Want… Couch Time… Now… were the thoughts of a certain blonde-haired fox, as he absentmindedly fumbled with the keys to his small, cozy home. His shoulders were slumped, and his eyelids half open in a vacant stare as he maneuvered his key into the lock of his front door. The day had been absolutely miserable, all of his clients had been in a bad temper when he spoke with them about their problems, and one of them even seemed to believe that the fox didn’t really know what he was doing. Of course, he knew what he was doing! He’d graduated top of his class by no small miracle, the fox was very talented at his work, but the lack of appreciation and frustration that was thrust upon him by his clients was not something studying could have prepared him for. At last, the key turned, and the door swung wide open, shouldering his bag he strode inside and carelessly dropped it in the front hallway, kicking off his shoes and closing the door behind him with a click, locking it once more. Give… Me… That… Couch… thought the fox once more, as he strode into his living room. However, his couch did not seem to be on the agenda just yet, for the fox almost tripped over a wooden box in the center of the room. Kaz was taken aback, how had this gotten in his home? He didn’t remember lugging a rather plain, heavy looking wooden box into his home. Its dimensions were around two feet by two feet, and a foot and a half tall. Kneeling down, his tail now twitching with apparent interest and curiosity he inspected it closer to find that its lid was hinged, with the front opening to the container facing towards him. What on earth… Did somebody break in and leave this here? He thought to himself, as he reached forward with a paw and tentatively opened the strange box. The lid thumped onto his carpet as he gazed into what was held within the strange item, and was even more confused to see that the box only contained two items in it. A thick square of plastic upon closer inspection Kaz found to be a white, adult diaper, and a note next to it, written in fancy cursive. He picked it up, his eyebrows furrowing as he perused through a short poem, a strange feeling of warmth he didn’t recognize bubbling up in his insides as he did so. For a year and a day obedient shall you be, To the rules and whims of the box at your knee, Letters and rules shall be provided from these wooden confines, Giving you instructions, tasks, items, and lines, And lest you not listen to my behest, Shall you not have your day-to-day be the best! For control and independence are no longer yours From now you’ll always be clad in diapers! Diapers? Control? Is this all some sort of prank that got delivered into my house that one of my friends managed to sneak in? He turned the note over and found that more was written on the back of it, this time not in the mysterious cursive font as on the front. The rules are simple, Kazard. For a year and a day you will be completely unable to control your bladder nor your bowel, making it that at any time whatsoever, you will completely and utterly mess and wet yourself anywhere you are. Within this box, you will find your solution to this new conundrum in your life, which you have agreed to participate in by opening this box. Whenever you open this box you will be supplied with plain white diapers perfectly matched to handle whatever punishment you give them. It is recommended that you also invest in other supplies related to padding, such as powder and anti-rash cream, but those are up to your discretion. You may try and not wear your diapers, but you will find that it is wiser to comply with the rules and keep yourself nice and secure; your continence will not return either if you do not obey the rules set before you. If you wish to communicate with the box, you must do so through a bargain written on a note to express your wishes. However, be warned: the box is liable to interpret and balance any request or boon as it wishes if whatever you offer is not of equal value, so it may be wisest to obey as instructed and keep yourself diapered at all times of the day, otherwise, the consequences will be severe. With that, we hope you enjoy your next trip around the sun padded up! This has to be a joke… Boxes that interpret poetry and supply diapers whenever opened? This isn’t even a funny prank, this is pathetic. The fox dropped the diaper and note back into the box with contempt, what a stupid thing to waste his time with. He got up, the couch now forgotten as his stomach rumbled its hunger aloud to the room. He padded over to the kitchen, turning the kettle on and rummaging through his dry food cabinet, retrieving a large bag of chips. He held the bag in his maw as he stretched, reaching up to the higher shelf to grab himself a chocolate bar. It was just out of his reach, and he strained, leaning against the counter to support his weight as he grasped after his sweet. The counter must have been wet, however, for he looked down as he felt something damp against him. The bag of chips dropped out of his mouth and onto the counter below him. The counter hadn’t been wet, no. It was he who had gotten wet.

Mallory lay on the bed, basking in the afterglow. She loved the way the satin sheets felt against her naked skin. She loved the way Robert’s dick had felt inside her. She rolled over to face the bathroom, watching her lover as he cleaned himself up. He was still naked, and even twelve years her senior he still had a fantastic body. He caught her staring in the mirror and smiled at her. “I have a job for you.” “Whatever you need. As soon as we get back to the office—” “No, not at the office. I have a more personal job for you.” Mallory’s heart rate increased, her fingers gripping the sheets. “Oh?” He started getting dressed, stepping into his boxers. “I’m going to need to hire a nanny. I thought of you first.” At this her heart skipped a beat. She found it easier to sleep with her boss if she knew as little about his family as possible, but to her knowledge he didn’t have any kids. It was possible his wife was pregnant, but she felt like she would have known about that. So many questions raced through her mind, but the only one that came out when she opened her mouth was “When?” He watched her in the mirror as he finished buttoning up his shirt and tying his tie. “Come over on Friday for an interview.” “An interview?” “It’s mostly a formality, but Helen will need to meet you, obviously.” She gulped. Helen. The wife. His wife. “Will that be a problem?” She shook her head as she tried to get saliva back in her suddenly very dry mouth. “No, sir.” “Good. I’ll see you back at the office.” He always left first. They didn’t want to be seen leaving and arriving back at work together. In a daze, she got up and started getting cleaned up and dressed herself. Sleeping with the boss was one thing. She had fantasies that he’d leave his wife and marry her, but she knew that it was a very unlikely scenario. But asking her to work for him, not just in the office, but at his house was something else entirely. What did that even entail? He’d said nanny, did that mean she’d have to quit her current job? She was only an assistant, with her only real perk being that she was sleeping with her boss. If he wanted her to quit so she could be his live-in nanny, she’d find it hard to say no. She was in a fog the whole rest of the week. He didn’t mention it again, but that was nothing new. At work he was always nothing but professional, and their extracurricular activities were kept well hidden from the rest of the office. All she received was a message from his second phone, with an address and a time. It was exactly how he summoned her to the hotel rooms where they conducted their torrid affair. But this time it wasn’t a nice hotel room a few blocks from the office. This was his house. The giddy excitement coursing through her warred with the trepidation she felt every time she remembered that his house also meant his wife. Helen. She’d picked up her name in passing overhearing a conversation and had filed it away. That and the pictures of the gorgeous blonde woman in the photos on his desk were all she knew about Mrs. Hamlin. She looked in the picture to be in her mid thirties, and practically oozed class and sophistication. Mallory was intimidated already, but she swallowed that down. She agonized over what to wear, wanting to look attractive for Robert but not so much that she’d make his older wife feel threatened. She needed to look professional for an interview, but also convey she’d be fun with a kid. She settled on a red dress and black cardigan, and at the last minute swapped out the matching heels she really wanted to wear for more appropriate flats. Even after several attempts at her makeup, she kept checking it in the rearview mirror the whole drive over, concerned she’d still gone overboard on her mascara, but when she pulled into the driveway, she knew she’d just have to commit to it. Robert always complimented her lashes, and if his wife didn’t like them, so be it. His house was even nicer than she expected. Apprehension plagued her every step up the long sidewalk to the front door, where she was torn between the brass doorknocker and the doorbell. She must have stood there for a full minute without touching either before the door opened anyways, revealing Robert. “Hello.” She had only ever seen him in his tailored suits or completely naked, and the man in khakis and a sweater greeting her at the door came as a shock. “Hello,” she stammered back. He hadn’t given her any sort of protocol on whether she should pretend to know him or not, so she had no clue what to say next. “Come on in.” He held the door wide for her, and she stepped inside. “Were you waiting long?” “No, I just got here.” She felt like she had when she first started working for him. Self-conscious and giddy and more than a little bit horny for this powerful man. “You look nice.” It was the type of small, innocuous compliment he’d pay her at work. One that usually preceded a midday rendezvous in a hotel. “Thank you.” She could feel herself blushing. “Let me introduce you to my wife.” Mallory’s heart beat faster in her chest. “Helen?” He called upstairs. Moments later she appeared at the top of the stairs. “Yes Robert— oh, I didn’t realize we had company.” “Come down here.” Mallory wanted to run. His wife was dressed casually in jeans and a long sleeve T-shirt, but she seemed to glide down the stairs with an effortless grace. Mallory was easily ten years younger than this woman, but she felt like her youth wasn’t helping her measure up to her lover’s wife. And if she was pregnant, she wasn’t showing at all. “Helen, this is Mallory. Mallory, this is my wife, Helen.” Mallory nodded mutely. Helen extended her hand, and the younger girl shook it, keenly aware of just how clammy her hand was at that moment. “A pleasure,” Helen said, giving her husband a look that was very plainly asking what this girl was doing in her house. “I’m interested in hiring Mallory.” “Oh Robert, you know I’m not interested in your business,” she said dismissively. “No, not at work. Here.” Helen’s entire body language changed. She stood up straighter, her arms across her chest, and her brow furrowed. “She’s not the one you’re...” she trailed off, unable to complete her question, but the daggers she was glaring at Mallory out of the corner of her eye while she looked up at her husband said everything. Robert only nodded. “How dare you bring her here.” Helen turned, stepping back onto the stairs, but her husband grabbed her shoulder, preventing her from going. “How dare I, Helen?” Helen froze, her back still to them. Mallory wanted to back away and leave. There was clearly a dynamic in place she wasn’t privy to, and the uncomfortable tension that had rushed into the room was palpable. “Did you think I wouldn’t find out?” Helen didn’t respond. Robert’s grip on her shoulder visibly tightened, and with one hand he pulled her back off that first step and turned her around. “I’m sorry.” Her lips were quivering ever so faintly when she turned to face them. “It was my money you used, even if you did try to hide it,” he said, not letting go of her shoulder. “It was a mistake. Please, don’t make me wear the belt again,” she said. “Oh, we’re beyond that.” Mallory did find the courage to take a step back. “This seems like a personal matter. Perhaps I should go?” Robert turned to her. “Nonsense, I asked you here for a job. One I think you’ll be great at.” “Please, can’t we discuss this privately?” Helen begged. “No.” His flat tone left no room for argument. “Let’s go upstairs.” He let go of her shoulder, and gestured towards the stairs. Helen attempted to compose herself before turning and starting up the stairs. “I don’t want to intrude,” Mallory made one last effort to excuse herself. “My wife and I have an open relationship. The only way that works is if there are boundaries. And boundaries only work if there are consequences for crossing those boundaries.” Mallory watched Helen slow down as she ascended the stairs, still not looking back but clearly listening. “While I may not always agree with the choices she makes in who she whores around with, I allow it, just as she allows me to sleep with you.” Mallory’s blood ran cold, even though she was fully aware that Helen already knew, hearing it out loud made it real. “But when she lets some slob fuck her bareback and gets knocked up, and then uses my money to pay for her abortion, well, as you can imagine, that boundary was well and truly crossed.” Helen had stopped moving on the second to last step, just standing with their back to them, her head bowed low. Mallory’s own confusion continued to grow. The knocked up part had made sense, only to for that clarity to be dashed with the next startling relaxation about her boss’s very complicated relationship with his wife. “I’m sorry,” Helen said again, her voice barely audible. Robert ignored her. “After you.” He gestured to the stairs for Mallory. Wordlessly she followed, allowing herself to be guided upstairs. “To the guest bedroom,” Robert directed. Helen reached it first, and stood frozen in the doorway when Mallory hesitated a few feet behind, not wanting things to get any more uncomfortable. She’d started out feeling nervous and intimidated by this woman, but now something akin to pity was running through her system. Robert’s firm hand on the small of her back ushered her forward, until she was right behind Helen, and could see into the room. The “guest bedroom” was in fact a nursery. Pastel pink wallpaper and thick white carpeting surround the room, complete with a crib, changing table and rocking horse. Helen looked back at Robert. “What is this?” “This is your nursery. You see, since I earn all the money, I can spend it without you knowing about. I made some renovations.” “Please. Put me in the chastity belt again. I’ll do whatever you want.” “I know you will. And we won’t need that uncomfortable chastity belt this time. Not even the trash who usually get their dicks wet in your snatch will want to fuck you in your diapers.” He gently but forcefully pushed both women into the nursery, and closed the door behind them. “Sir, please,” she begged. He picked something up off of a shelf and shoved it into his wife’s mouth. Mallory was surprised to see it was an oversized pink pacifier. “Hush. Little girls should be seen and not heard.” “Plleeph,” she mumbled around the infantile silencer, but she didn’t dare spit it out, even as her husband grabbed the hem of her shirt and pulled it over her head, leaving her bra exposed. That quickly followed, and she was topless. She seemed to notice Mallory again for the first time since coming upstairs, and attempted to cover her breasts, which were larger than the younger woman’s but had the downside of an extra decade’s worth of gravity pulling on them. “Babies don’t need to be self conscious,” Robert said, moving behind her and pulling her arms down to her sides. He looked over his wife’s shoulder, locking eyes with Mallory. “Your new nanny is going to be seeing every inch of you.” Helen squirmed under Mallory’s gaze. Mallory’s eyes darted between Robert’s and his humiliated wife’s as it finally dawned on her what exactly she was there for. He hadn’t been lying about wanting to hire her to be a nanny. She’d just been very wrong about who she’d be nannying for. His wife had screwed up, and he’d come up with a very creative means of punishing her. He wanted his mistress to help him treat his wife like a baby. A grin slowly spread across Mallory’s lips. And he wanted to pay her to do it. Her smile widened. Robert reached down and started unbuttoning Helen’s jeans. She smacked his hands away and spit out the pacifier. “No!” Robert’s eyes never left Mallory’s as he grabbed Helen’s wrists. “No?” he asked. “Is our arrangement not to your liking?” Helen squirmed, trying to pull her arms free, but there was no escaping her husband’s grip. She huffed but didn’t articulate a response to his question. “Have I been unfair to you?” he asked. Again words seemed to fail the woman. She looked at Mallory. Her gaze was beseeching help, aid from a fellow woman who understood what it was like to be under the thumb of a powerful man. “Would you like to help me get her properly dressed?” Robert asked. Helen’s eyes widened. So much was communicated through her deep green eyes. Female solidarity, women empowerment, just someone who was in trouble asking another human for some common decency. “I’d love to,” Mallory said, stepping forward and easily unzipping Helen’s jeans. “Stop! Don’t!” Helen cried. “Here, hold her arms for a moment.” Robert handed his wife’s wrists to Mallory. Helen fought, but the younger woman was able to hold her helpless while her husband grabbed another pacifier, this one with a matching pink leather strap on it. He forced it into his protesting wife’s mouth and strapped it tightly around her head. “Hhpppnnmpph dmmmp!” she cried into her new gag. “Much better,” Robert said, swinging her arms around theatrically above her head. Mallory ignored the pleading look Helen was giving her while she moaned incoherently around the new pacifier strapped into her mouth. She grabbed her rival’s jeans and tugged them down her legs, and despite Helen’s kicking and struggling, she pulled them down around her ankles. “Keep going,” Robert encouraged while she grabbed his wife’s panties and tugged them down her flailing thighs, baring her pussy to all. “Mmmph nnnph!” Helen cried, squeezing her legs together, but she couldn’t hide the neatly trimmed landing strip of dark hair between her legs. “That’s going to have to go. You’ve lost the privilege of having big girl hair down there.” Mallory felt a sick thrill run down her spine as she watched this woman squirm helplessly under her gaze. She reached between Helen’s legs, running her fingers through her bush. “You’re going to have to be baby smooth,” she said. She wasn’t expecting Helen to kick out, her foot striking Mallory’s shin hard. “Ow! Fuck!” Robert moved swiftly, spinning Helen around and bending her over the changing table, her bare bottom presented for the spanking he quickly delivered. “That was very naughty,” he said, driving home each syllable with a hard slap to his wife’s ass. “You don’t kick your new nanny.” Helen wailed and blubbered muffled apologies through her pacifier, squirming and thrashing but Robert easily held her in place while he disciplined her. “You’re going to have to punish her when she acts out,” he told Mallory. She nodded, rubbing her bruised shin. She could do that. “I’m sure I can think of plenty of creative punishments for a naughty brat.” “Are you going to behave while we get you ready for your first diaper?” he asked. Helen nodded, looking back over her shoulder. Mallory could see that she was crying, her eyes bloodshot and her cheeks wet with tears. Mallory felt a twinge of pity again, but she quickly pushed the feeling down. She had no desire to risk a punishment like the one she was helping to administer, and expressing pity for her rival was surely a quick way to disappoint Robert. He picked up his wife in his strong arms and laid her down on her back on the changing table. Leather cuffs were attached to the corners, and Helen didn’t resist while she was strapped down. The spanking seemed to have knocked all the fight out of her. She stared up at the ceiling, as if trying to ignore what was about to happen to her. Robert grabbed a pair of scissors, a razor, a can of shaving cream, and a washcloth. “If you’re good I’ll allow you to grow it back out when your punishment is over,” he told her as he started to trim her pubes. “If you’re not, I’ll make you get laser hair removal so you can never grow big girl hair again, and anyone who fucks you will know what a child you are.” Helen whimpered into her pacifier. Mallory edged closer until she was standing over her new charge, watching as she was stripped of that symbol of her adulthood. She squeezed her legs together as Robert spread Helen’s. Having such control and superiority over the other woman was igniting a desire in her that was new and intriguing. She sidled around to the top corner of the table, leaning forward. The corner was just the right height for her, the padded edge just the right fit for her to press her clit against. She grabbed Helen’s cheeks, gripping the straps of her gag as she leaned over the helpless woman. “Look at me, baby,” she said. Helen’s eye flicked up to meet hers. “I’m going to take good care of you.” A shiver of excitement pulsed through her, and she leaned harder against the corner. “I’ll feed you and bath you and change your diapers. I’ll play with you, and I’ll put you to bed early in your crib there. And while you’re lying there helpless in your crib, wetting your diapers and sucking on your pacifier, I’m going to go to bed with your husband.” She hadn’t asked Robert if their arrangement extended that far, but a quick glance at him while he was shaving his wife’s pussy, at the approving smile on his face, she knew that she’d made the right call. “You brought this on yourself,” Robert said, wiping away the last of the shaving cream from her now bald crotch. Mallory lifted her head, forcing her to look down at her smooth pussy. “I think this is going to be very good for you.” She shook her head, moaning into her gag. “Would you like to diaper her?” Mallory nodded. “Absolutely.” She patted Helen’s cheek before swapping places with Robert. She knelt and perused the selection of diapers, finally selecting a pink one with little cartoon animals on it. “Are you ready for your diaper, baby girl?” Helen refused to answer, the last modicum of resistance she could put up in her current state. Mallory grinned. She unfolded the diaper, rubbing the smooth, crinkly plastic up Helen’s bare legs. “Are you going to try and kick me again?” she asked as she reached for the cuffs around her ankles. Again Helen didn’t acknowledge her. Mallory tickled her bare soles. Helen kicked and squirmed against the restraints, biting hard on the rubber nipple stuffed in her mouth, trying to stay silent. “Are you going to be a good girl for me while I put you in your diaper?” Mallory asked, now going at her feet with both hands. Helen couldn’t help but laugh, shaking her head and squealing into her pacifier, “Yephhh! Plleephh stmpph!” “Good girl.” Mallory undid the cuffs and spread Helen’s legs wide. She placed the open diaper between her legs. “Lift your cute little baby bottom up for me.” When Helen didn’t immediately comply, Mallory gave her a sharp slap on the side of her thigh. “Do you need another spanking?” Helen’s butt shot up off the table. Mallory loved the control she had over the other woman. She slid the diaper under her, and then pushed her gently back down. “Good baby.” The new babysitter found a bottle of baby powder and sprinkled it generously over Helen’s bare pussy. “Gotta make sure you have plenty of powder.” “Mmmph.” Helen squirmed as Mallory rubbed the powder in. “Gotta get every inch.” She imagined rubbing her own pussy, which was absolutely demanding attention. She touched the helpless woman under her like she wanted to touch herself. She made her helpless rival squirm and moan, spreading her lips and teasing her clit. “Do you like that, baby girl?” Helen shook her head, but her desperate moans said otherwise. “Yes you do.” She wanted to make Helen as desperate as she was, and then tape her up in a diaper and leave her all tied up while she fucked the pathetic slut’s husband. “You like being a helpless baby. It’s much more fitting for you. And you don’t have to worry about Robert. He’s much better off with a real woman.” Helen shrieked, trying to close her legs, but Mallory was already done with her. She pulled the thick diaper up between her legs and taped it snugly in place. She considered moving her to the crib, but she wanted attention right then, so she just strapped Helen’s ankles back down, leaving her securely bound to the changing table. Her eyes flicked up to Robert, who had taken a few steps back and was watching, a pleased smile on his face. “I can check on the baby later,” Mallory said. Robert nodded. He extended a hand to his new nanny. “She’ll be here when we’re done.” Mallory took his hand and let him pull her into his arms. She looked back over her shoulder at the infantilized woman bound on the table. She winked at her and blew her a kiss. “I’ll be back for you soon, baby girl.” She looked up at Robert. “But not too soon, I hope.” “No, not too soon.” He kissed her. He’d kissed her before, but never like this. It felt like a charge went straight from his lips to hers, all the way down to her core. She gave one last look over her shoulder at Helen, saving a mental picture of her rival laid low, and let him lead her to the master bedroom. She was going to like this new job.

Prologue Hailee heard her mother crying through the baby monitor, and as she was already used to it, she left her desk and went straight to the nursery. When she opened the door she was hit by the smell of a very stinky diaper, and, knowing how bizarre the situation was, she stood there for a minute, with her eyes scanning the woman sitting in her pink crib. Her mother, who had been an elegant and beautiful woman just three months prior, was looking uncomfortable and with her eyes watery. Hailee knew she wanted a change, as if the smell wasn’t telling enough, but her mother’s eyes were saying something more. She could talk, if she needed something she could say it, but that’s not how babies work, is it? Hailee got closer to her, ready to be the grown up of the house. Chapter One Evelyn and Hailee couldn’t be more different from one another. The mother, Evelyn, was an English teacher at the local college. She was chubby, but at almost 40 years old and 5’7 feet, she was still looking young and attractive. Though, all eyes were on her daughter, who at 6’0 and only 19 years old was a towering woman with a stunning body. Hailee was into fitness, and her body was a testament to it, but she was more than just her look. She worked from home as a manager for a small but successful company, though her mother knew nothing about and she like to keep it that way. They had what could only be described as a difficult relationship, though you wouldn’t know by just looking at them interact in public. If there was something Hailee hated the most was public scenes, especially from teenagers or young adults, her peers. So, whenever her mother would piss her off, she would wait until they were home and try to talk things with her. Though, Evelyn wasn’t really interested in having calm or polite conversations, which made Hailee questioned who was the actual adult in the house. Now, you might be wondering what happened to make Evelyn end up in diapers at the mercy of her daughter? Well, it all began three months ago, after Hailee turned 19, just a couple of months before Evelyn would turn 40. Hailee woke up that morning, ready to hit the gym as she did every morning, it was not even 6 a.m, but that was her routine. She was already used to the fact that her mother would oversleep, whether it was constant drinking, the waking up late, or the toxic friends she would hang out with, Hailee knew that her mother was who she was at this point of life, and there wasn’t much she could do about it. So, she picked up her bag and left home as she did every week day. Almost two hours later, Evelyn woke up in her room almost crying her eyes out. She didn’t want to move, she knew what had happened. What had been happening for almost a month now, and she only wanted to be swallowed by the earth instead dealing with it. But, she had to get ready soon, and she couldn’t be late anymore, or things would get worse. She stood up, doing her best to ignore the smell and the cold touch of her PJs, and went straight to shower. It was lucky that she had her own bathroom attached to her room, or else she would risk being discovered by her daughter. However, when she entered her shower, she noticed she had run out of shampoo, again. With no time to get a new one, she left her room, completely naked and went to her daughter’s bathroom, taking Hailee’s shampoo and returning to her own bathroom. She turned the water one and let her worries be washed away by the stream of hot water. Evelyn finished showering, got ready, opened a window in her room, and went straight to work. She would deal with her wet bed when she returned because she didn’t have the time nor the mental energy to deal with it right now. Just a couple of minutes after Evelyn left for work, Hailee arrived home in need of a shower. She went to her bathroom, hoping for a nice hot shower, but there was no shampoo. It couldn’t run out, she just got a new one, which meant only one thing, her mother had forgotten to get her her own and had come for hers. Hailee sighed, but knowing Evelyn should already be gone to work, she went to her mother’s bathroom to reclaim her precious shampoo. All the way thinking how irresponsible her mother was, but that stopped when she opened the door to Evelyn’s room. The smell hit her like a punch in the face, a combination of ammonia and sweat, and something more. She had never babysit or been that close to a baby before, but the smell was too obvious to ignore. She went to her mother’s bed to find it completely soaked, and in her mother’s bathroom, she found her soaked clothes. There was no doubt about what had happened, and her mother, responsible as she was, didn’t even clean after herself. Had her mother drink too much that sh peed herself? Why would she not even remove the sheets to wash them? Or do something with her soaked clothes? Seriously, some times she was worst that a baby. Hailee sighed, not knowing what to do, and left her mother’s room. She needed to do something, but what? Then, it hit her. She had an idea, she needed a plan, but that was her specialty. Hey guys, I’m working on role reversal stories. I have created a Patreon where this story is already finished, but I will be posting more chapters in here. What other scenarios you’d like to see? Let me know so that I can add them to the list. At the moment I’m working on two other stories: One about an older brother turned into a baby and the other about a father. My Patreon is https://www.patreon.com/LittlerWriter?fan_landing=true If you join, I will be adding new stories weekly and you can even tell me if you want me to continue with Evelyn’s regression or you prefer something new!

Hey everyone, finally getting the time to write again. This is a commissioned short story, though as discussions continue in the background, the plot is getting deeper and more complex than our originally planned 10 chapters will allow for, so who knows when it’ll be done. Insert obligatory mention of my Patreon here… Anyway, have fun with this one. There’s a little inspiration coming from The Handmaid’s Tale, except without all the rapey murdery stuff. Fear gripped Penelope Russo as she stared at the paper on the wall. Seven years she worked at Donatello, never missing a shift, always coming in to cover other people, and her name wasn’t even on the new schedule for next week. Since the day she graduated high school, she’d waited tables there, while other girls came and went. How could this even be happening?! “Tony wants to see you in his office, Penny.” Jacky Phillips tapped her on the shoulder, and she nearly jumped out of her skin. The girl was barely twenty, but they became fast friends when Jacky started working there. Well, more than friends on occasion… friends with benefits? But that was behind tightly closed doors, not spoken of at work or anywhere else. The look on Jacky’s face confirmed what Penny already feared; this wasn’t going to be a good conversation. Jacky gave her a quick hug. “Good luck, hun.” “Yeah, thanks.” Dejected, she walked through the kitchen, up the stairs, and knocked on the general manager’s door. “Come in!” the low voice boomed behind the door, with that signature Jersey-Italian accent thick through it. She opened the door and stepped inside. “Penny.” He shook his head. “Penny, Penny, Penny, what am I gonna do wit’ you?” “Tony, please, you can’t…” “Look, you’re a hard worker. You’re polite. You make sure everyone’s drink is full and their food gets out hot. But I’ve told you over and over, the guys have expectations. Parents bring their boys in here looking to get them hooked up. You know this. I know this. And the big boss knows it too, and he says I gotta let you go, because you won’t do it.” “But Tony!” “You need a man, Penny. You need to be home making babies for your man. Not here turning into an old spinster. The customers complain, they want their waitresses to be friendly. And young. And the girls, they flirt until they find a guy that clicks, and boom, I’m hiring a new one because she went off and got hitched.” “Spinster, Tony! I’m twenty five, not fifty!” “When did I hire you, Penny? You were eighteen. Most of these girls that I hire, they’re fifteen, sixteen. That’s what the customers want to see, young girls they can pair up with their teenage sons to make grandchildren for them.” “But Tony…” “Penny, look, I know what you are. Don’t worry, my lips are sealed. But it’s not my world, Penny. I just gotta live in it. Back in my grandfather’s day, no one would even blink over someone like you, but since the religious kooks took over, I mean, what’re you gonna do?” Penny struggled not to cry as Tony’s words cut through her. All throughout school, she and every other girl was drilled about how the most noble profession and honorable profession for women was being a mother and wife. Only the Barren went to work, because the fertile were needed to keep the population growing. But as much as she tried to like boys, or at least to tolerate them, she lusted after other girls. Boys, they just wanted to squash her tits with their meat-hooks and then hump her like a dog until they were spent. Girls went out of their way to make her feel good, touch all her special places the way she’d touch herself when she thought about them. The dirty, dirty thoughts she had. And she hated herself for it. “I just… what am I gonna do, Tony? As long as I’m making eggs, they won’t let me work in the factories or go to college or anything! This is all I got!” “I wish it didn’t have to be like this, Penny. Maybe try being nicer to the boys at another place? Maybe suck it up and get hitched what they expect of you? I don’t know. Maybe…” He leaned over and got much, much quieter. “Maybe I know a guy. Maybe he can get you some of those sticks, you know what I’m saying? Maybe you make a phone call or somethin’.” He slid a piece of paper across the desk with a phone number on it. Penny shuddered, but took the piece of paper and slipped it into her purse. One of her “girlfriends” in high school tried to get hold of the “egg-breaker sticks” - injections you could take that would turn you up as infertile when you went to the clinic to get harvested every month. But they were as illegal as heroin and cocaine. A cop showed up for her at school not long after that, and no one ever saw her again. “Th… thanks Tony.” She hung her head, and he stood up. “I wish you luck Penny. You’re a good kid. Take care of yourself, huh?” She stood up as well, taking his outstretched hand and shaking it weakly. “I’ll have your last check ready for you on Friday, okay?” “Sure.” “Hey. Maybe… maybe in a few months, I might be needing a front of the house manager, eh?” Her mind reeling, Penny trudged back down the steps and out the back door, speaking to no one on the way. Tony’s words burned at the back of her brain. Why? Why’d she have to like girls? Why couldn’t she just be normal and find a husband and have a happy life surrounded by kids? It would have been so much easier than what she’d been through since high school. She thought about the phone number he gave her. God, if she got caught, she’d wind up disappeared like that kid Sarah! But if she didn’t get caught, that was her golden ticket! All she needed was to turn up empty at the fertility clinic three months in a row, and she’d be reclassified as a Barren. No more pressure to get married, no more being a waitress and getting groped by horny teenage boys while their parents laughed about it. She and her little circle of special friends would still have to keep quiet about their little get-togethers, but no one really cared about what Barrens did with their free time. It was only illegal for boys - If a man lie with a man as a woman, it is an abomination, was how the verse went. Girls, well, society thought it was shameful, but the Coalition couldn’t find any biblical justification to outlaw it. But first she had to at least try to find another job. Even if she could get the sticks, she had to keep her rent up long enough to make it three months…

(Before anyone reads this, I think its only fair to warn you that there are 'dirtier' themes then you would normally find in an abdl story. I don't believe it breaks any site rules, but as I usually don't write like this, I may be mistaken and I apologize if so . )SMACK SMACK SMACK!The sissy squirmed as his bottom was spanked by his daddy. Tears were streaming down his face as he grasped tightly onto his teddy bear for comfort, and only his pacifier keeping him from calling out. His diaper was pulled down to his knees and his skirt lay on the ground, leaving his bare skin open to the harsh smacks. His daddy took his time, spanking him again and again until he was satisfied the sissy had learned his lesson.He stopped and rested his hand on the sissy's bright red bottom, feeling the new found warmth comming off of it."Now little Nathaniel, did you learn your lesson?"The sissy squrimed and looked at him through tear soaked eye lids. He didn't answer and kept suckling his pacifier, knowing the trick.His daddy patted his upturned bottom. "Good baby," he said. He removed the pacifier and asked again, "did you learn your lesson?""Yes daddy," he sniffed."What did you learn?""I learned not to deny to mommy or daddy that I'm a sissy baby.""Exactly right." He began absent mindedly stroking and patting the sissy boy's bottom, making him moan. "Now, remember when you came here. You played with your mommy, being her little baby, pretending to be a boy..."The sissy groaned and the word "pretending."The sissy's 'daddy' began speaking in an overly sweat, mocking tone. "But then she tried putting her baby in a skirt. She's told me how you whined and complained that you were a boy, and how you didn't want to do that... and how hard you became the second you were in pink. Remember?"He nodded."It wasn't long after until you were always in your pretty pink skirts, always a little sissy, and always loving it. But you still complained, didn't you? Were you a naughty little liar to your mommy?" He spanked him hard.Nathaniel yelped. "YES DADDY!""And whats more... I bet you never expected to be subby to a daddy, did you?""No daddy...""But the little sissy saw all the big strong men, and mommy saw how he stared... and it wasn't long until you were in the lap of your first male babysitter, crying in humiliation, and beging for more, wasn't it?" He spanked him again, and Nathaniel shouted."Yes Daddy!""And then you asked for something you never thought you would, to please a daddy, didn't you?"He blushed deeply. "Yes daddy.""Good baby. And yet it still seems you deny it sometimes, don't you? Like you did to mommy and me earlier?""Yes daddy.""Was that a lie? Was that a naughty little lie?" Another spank, another yelp.He nodded. "Yes daddy!""Then beg me for it. Beg to be a little sissy in pink dresses, bending over and kneeling down to please me. Tell me how much you love it.""Oh god daddy please no..."He spanked him, harder then before. "NOW!""OW! PLease daddy! I want to be a little sissy in pink dresses, bending and kneeling to please you! I love it I love it!""Good. Then I have a reward for my sissy. Stand up." He helped Nathaniel to his feet. He then reached over and pulled up the sissy's diaper, straigtening it out."Now. Pick up your skirt and put it on."He looked at the skirt and back at his daddy. "But... Daddy?" Normally he was forced into his fetish clothes, not asked to put them on himself."Do it yourself. If you want it, that is. I don't want any way for my little sissy to pretend we made him do it."Nathaniel glared, but reached down and pulled up the skirt.Nathaniel was now dressed head to toe in fetish wear. Almost everything he wore was pink and was designed to drive home his feminine and infantile state. Around his waist was a flouncing skirt that was short enough to leave his patterned diapers visible. Underneath it were long, pale stockings that went to his knees and were tied in bows, then Mary Jane shoes. Above it was a pink shirt he tucked into his skirt, a bonnet, and his pacifier. Though he was still clearly male, his hair had grown long, and the clothes were cut to fit his thin stature.Jordan, his 'daddy,' on the other hand, was far broader, and wearing only shorts and a t shirt. The contrast between the muscular sitting man and the thinner one in the skirt was clear.Jordan patted his lap. "Sit down sweetheart."Nathanil sat down gingerly, then whined and squirmed as he rested on his aching bottom."Oh hush up, your diapers are more then thick enough for cushioning," Jordan said. "Now, for your reward. And remember, you can stop this anytime you want"He picked up a bottle of white frothy liquid and brought it to Nathaniel's lips. Nathaniel looked at him suspiciously, then began to drink what he assumed was milk.A moment later Nathaniel gagged. "Keep drinking sweetheart," Jordan said sternly. "And yes, that is exactly what you think it is."Nathaniel whined but kept drinking. The bottle tip was thin, and the liquid came out slowly, forcing him to taste each drop."Like that? This was ordered online. I bet you didn't know they sold stuff like it, eh?" Jordan said. Nathaniel cringed and kept drinking. "It comes other doms and real men, intended for little sissies like you. I of course added my own, plus a little something to help you fill your diapers." Nathaniel groaned loadly at the last part, but kept drinking."I want you to know that this is your place. Look at you, a grown man dressed like a little girl in diapers, suckling a bottle in your daddy's lap. Longing to be in pretty pink skirts and getting taken care of and spanked. Pathetic. But you love it, don't you?"Nathaniel nodded between gulps. He squeezed his eyes shut and had to fight back gags from the salty taste."And now you're drinking this just because I told you to. We both know you hate the taste. We both know you could leave if you really wanted to. But we also both know that you won't, don't we? You love this more then anything?"Nathaniel didn't respond, and Jordan slowly reached down to his waste, lifted up his skirt and put a hand on the front of his diaper. Nathaniel gasped."Oh no? Sure seems like youre enjoying it." Nathaniel whimpered and pushed himself into his daddy's hand.Jordan laughed. "Oh ho look at you. Really loving it. Love the feeling of your pretty pink diapers, nice and soft against you?" He began rubbing it back in forth. Nathaniel didn't move. "Admit it, sissy. Admit you love it or I'll stop."Nathaniel nodded vigerously."Good baby."Nathaniel felt something poking the back of his diaper. He began rubbing it with his diaper almost instinctively, moving his bottom back and forth in his daddy's lap as he'd been taught to do.Jordan smiled. 'Very good baby."The bottle was almost done. Nathaniel still struggled to drink each drop, chocing and gagging at the taste."Keep going little one, almost there. Baby isn't going to be able to finish in his diaper unless he finishes his bottle!" He spoke in a high, teasing voice. "And remember, that is filled with a nice laxative, so finishing means your going to be in a VERY full and VERY stinky diaper soon, and we're going to keep you in it ALLLLLLL night. Sound fun?"Nathaniel whimpered and shook his head."Oh no?" Jordan pressed down on his diaper, and Nathaniel began nodding again. "Mmm hmm! Mmmm hmm!" he groaned, wordlessly begging for the punishment his daddy had promised."Now, you want to add something else to your pwetty widdle diapies?" Jordan asked."Mhmm!" "Finish the bottle and I might let you." He rubbed slower, keeping Nathaniel on the edge.Nathaniel sucked as hard as he could and tried to drink faster, resisting the urge to gag as he swallowed it all. Jordan kept rubbing him slowly, stopping when he felt him get to close.Finally the bottle was finished, and he moved it away."Oh god daddy!" Nathaniel shouted. "Please! Please let me!"Let you what? Let you be my little sissy forever? Let you please your daddy? Let you fill your little diapies?""Yes daddy please I want it all! To be your sissy, to please you, to fill my diapers!""Good. And you'll never play pretend at being a man again?""No daddy! Never! I'm not! I can't be!""Good. And you know that even though you're going to finsih in your diapers now, you'll still have to please your daddy, you'll still have to be a little diapered sissy, and you'll still spend the night in a messy diaper since when the fun is all gone?"Nathaniel was sobbing in desperation. "Yes daddy.""And you know this will prove how much you love being a little sissy in diapers, how much it turns you on, and how you only need to finish in your diapers from now on?"Tears streamed down his face. "Yes daddy!""Good baby. Then finish." He rubbed harder. Nathaniel gasped, convulsed, and lay shuddering on his lap.Jordan let him rest for a moment, smiling down at him. He then gently picked him up and cradled him in his lap. He began rocking him."Good baby. Good baby. Good sissy. You did well little one, you really did," he said in a soft voice.Nathaniel's eyes opened. "Daddy?" he said questioningly."Shhh..." Jordan said. "You were a good little sissy." He bent down and kissed Nathaniel on the forehead. He stroked his hair and back as Nathaniel became more and more awake. When Jordan was satisfied he was rested enough, he sat up straighter and hugged him. "Now, go rinse your mouth out," he said louder. "Then you'll come back and finish pleasing your daddy. When you're done, we'll give you a nice hot bath, and maybe some cookies if you're good, ok? How's that sound?"Nathaniel smiled. "Good, daddy.""Good, then go." He stood Nathaniel up, patted his bottom, and sent him on his way.

Authors Note: Hello, everyone. It's been a while. I'm back to work with all kinds of new responsibilities and daily tasks. That means that free time has dwindled. I loved how during Covid, I had a whole extra two hours a day of no travel that I could dedicate to writing stories. Not only that, but after finishing Little Conditions, I felt my drive to write severly decrease. I have already apologized to the people on Patreon who donated to me as I feel like I could not live up to expectations. That all being said, this is a brand new story that I will post completely for free here. It is (almost) done, so no disappointment or burnout postponing this story. I hope you all enjoy. Thank you. Please Read: This is a six part story. Each part will have a new protagonist and a different style. Some are more dark than others, and some have unreliable narrators. Each part ends on it's own, but you will benefit from reading them in order. Some things are set up early for later stories. Please feel free to ask any questions. If its not spoiled later on, I will be happy to answer. I'll post once a week, so you won't have long to complete the story. I hope you all enjoy. Part 1: Elise Her mouth gaped open as her well manicured finger pulled the email back up and down. She had reread the entirety twice already, when only the header truly mattered. “Congratulations!!!” It exclaimed with all the confetti and fireworks neatly animated around the bulging letters. The bubbling, boiling, bountiful, beautiful, boisterous energy wanted to explode out of her chest as Elise pulled the tablet close to herself. “Hahahahaha. Yes. Yes. Yes, yes, yes, yes, yes! YES! I’ve won. I’ve won, I’ve won, I’ve won.” She bounced around like a schoolgirl asked to prom by the football captain, like a toddler given a giant lollipop, like… well nothing like her outward appearance would suggest. The short bob cut auburn hair framed both her freckled face, as well as the conservative diamond earrings, matched by the one held to her neck by a thin gold chain. Her white blouse and business skirt lay across her body still wrinkle free after a full day at the office. The anxiety was worth it. The scheming had been worth it. The consequences… will probably be worth it. Elise was free. FREE! Free for one whole week from the monster she had married. The self centered, egotistical, maniacal demon that she had sold her heart too. The sound of the front door closing broke her from her revelry as she quickly hid the tablet back under the master bedroom bookshelf. A secret spot only her and the weekly maid knew of. “Okay. Okay. Calm down.” Elise brought herself to center with a large breath. “Now to sell it.” Walking down the cathedral stairs, her heels clacked against the marble. Standing by the doorway was the cleverly disguised devil, himself. The broad shoulders, ink black hair, and deep brown eyes were what had attracted her (and many others) to the construction industry’s Elon Musk. Mark Deighlein was a third generation Welshman who’s smile rarely ever met his eyes. “Never miss out.” Would be the title of his book. The phrase could be applied to any part of his life. Her appetite, business ventures, travels… hell, even leg day if you could imagine that. From up on her perch, Elise looked down at the man who had deceived her. Had stripped her of her freedomn, and enslaved her very being to him. She knew his magic powers well and would have to be smart to get away with her plan. She called down to him, “Mark. Welcome home. Listen, I know you just got back, but I’d like to…” Without looking her way, Mark continued to put away his coat and work shoes. (What you wear must always fit the occasion. Work shoes do not belong inside the house, only house shoes… whatever those are.) “Come down here, Elise. No need to shout indoors.” Shit. Heading down the stairs, she slowly inched closer and closer. Once on the ground floor she was already regretting her compliance. The bear of a man stood nearly a full foot taller than her and without the multiple layers of business suit covering him, the vest he wore did nothing to conceal his 235lb muscular frame. “Now, what was it you were saying?” Stepping forward, Mark fully blocked the light of the doorway chandelier as he stood in front of Elise. “I… I won.” “Won what?” …………………………………………………………………………………………………….. The deliberations had been hard fought. Mark was not one to skip details, and Elise was sure he was doing something with his magic to make her legs wobble. Eventually the pair had retired to the lounge where she had brought up the email from before, but from her phone this time, she was able to show him all the details, including the competition she had signed up for without his permission. That… didn’t go too well, but the rest did. Some might call it begging and pleading, but Elise was happy to leave it at negotiating her case. Never before had she ever presented him with a contract, but her “initiative” was surprisingly well received. Now, three weeks later, scheduled time off for the both of them, and a fully cleaned house, Elise was ready for her plan to fully come to fruition. She had been giddy all morning, nearly screwing up the makeup process she so rarely ever needed these days. She smiled mischievously at the thought of what was to come. The payback. The revenge. The JUSTICE! It was all firmly within her reach now. She had just finished preparing refreshments in the dine-in kitchen when the sound of chimes rang from the front door. Walking briskly past her husband still watching some show about stocks, she allowed for one minor treat before the full buffet. “Mark. Turn off the television. The crew is here and I don’t want to make a poor first impression.” Her heart pounded in her chest as the words left her mouth. The pause afterword, doubly so, but before he was able to turn around and answer, Elise had already quickly left and made her way down the hallway to greet her holy avengers. She had barely thrown the door open before loudly exclaiming, “Welcome! You must be the crew they sent. Come in. Come in.” There were four in total. Three men, and one woman. All dressed plainly, with jeans and either jackets or hoodies. All standard working class, with only slight individuality amongst them. The girl and one of the boys had fairly intricate looking cameras while the remaining two were busy with a black puffball on a stick and a heap of folders respectively. However, they were all so relaxed having been caught talking amongst themselves, not even pointing a camera at the entryway. Elise could feel herself frown, “Why aren’t you recording?” The boy with the folders stepped forward, “Oh. Mrs. Deighlein. It’s a pleasure to meet you.” He stook out his hand that she reluctantly shook. “I’m Dewayne, from Desperate Housewives, Maryland. Sorry for the confusion, but I just have a few papers for you and your husband to sign before we can start filming. Two party consent and all that.” His smile was obviously to disarm the tension, but Elise was annoyed. She had already begun to push with that comment to Mark earlier. If they couldn’t film without signing first, she might have just screwed this whole thing up. “On the show, you always film meeting the housewives.” Dwayne rubbed the back of his head as he clarified, “I’m sorry Mrs. Deighlein, but that’s just a bit of camera magic. We can film that after everything is signed. Now, we are going to be with you the whole week, so this is Danny, Ri…” Elise needed those papers signed and that camera rolling. Interrupting the boy she turned on her heels back towards the lounge, “Come on then. Best to get everything settled.” Biting her lip, Elise internally screamed as she saw Mark calmly pouring himself a shot of Tullamore at the bar. The T.V. was framed into the wall, dead quiet. Whether this was a good thing, or bad, was yet to be seen. Flashing a smile Elise tried to gauge how screwed she was, “Honey. The crew is here. They just need us to sign a few documents and then they can get started. Isn’t this exciting?” “Of course.” He took a sip from the irish whiskey before continuing, his eyes trained on her frame, “Now, why don’t you go grab the portable copier from my desk and hurry back.” The T.V. now forgotten, Elise smiled as she turned to go carry out her task, happy that her earlier fumble hadn’t screwed this whole thing up. “Pet.” The degrading nickname stopped her in her tracks. Quickly looking to the hallway, she worried that the crew might have heard, but from the sound of things, they must be bringing in equipment with them. One could hope. “I would also like you to do one more thing for me.” Elise didn’t dare turn back. She knew whatever sadistic smile her husband had on his face right now would buckle any bravado she had worked up thus far. “Yes, dear?” “Open the bottom right desk drawer for me.” Elise could feel her face heat up. A mixture of embarrassment and fear overwhelmed her as she spun around. “You promised!” Thankfully his focus was on the glass drink in his hands and not at her. “So I did. I’m not going to do anything so long as you don’t. I just want you to take a look inside. As a reminder.” “I don’t have to bring anything?” “Nothing but the copier.” He smirked, “Or did you already forget?” Elise turned back and stomped her way off away from the crew and her villianous tormentor, “Of course not!” Not a moment too soon as she could hear introductions taking place just as she had taken the first few steps upstairs. Down the hall and to the right she counted the doors until she had finally made it to the one she often dreaded. Living in a new home was sometimes weird, but only a few months here and she was intimately familiar with every nook and cranny of the mansion. All except here. The few times she had been to the study had been less than pleasant. Elise was pretty sure this was where he condensed his cursed magic. It would make sense why he was both here so often, and why she was only allowed when given express permission. Thoughts of subterfuge ran through her mind as the wide wooden door swung open to a room filled with a rich musk unnatural to such a new home. I could access all his files, find/destroy any kind of dirt he has on me, maybe find his phylactery and rid the world of his evil for good. I could also… just not… open the cabinet. Just tell him I did. Elise quickly shook the thoughts from her head. He would know, and she would suffer. This was not only a job he gave her, but probably a test. It would not surprise her if he was standing right behind her. Spinning around the woman in the expensive green dress and black leggings was met with dead air. Calming herself again, she made her way into the den of evil. Books of necromancy, baby harp seal harvesting, and taxes lined the bookshelves imported from some place where death squads had killed the natives. The thin portable copier sat at the edge of his thick desk, as if it was already waiting for her. Quickly gathering it in her hand, Elise almost left, but found herself possessed. Dark magic coursed through her legs as she was forced to walk over behind the desk and stand in front of the dreaded drawer. The redhead had rarely found herself in this room, that fact is true, but probably 40% of the time, when she was ordered to come here, Elise found herself opening this drawer. With cramped fingers, she slowly reached down to grab the brass handle, the cool metal surface chilled by Hades' breath. Opening it in slow measured amounts, the contents were finally revealed. Elise felt herself go white at the mere thought of how the tools inside had been used on her. Why he had kept these items here, where she was banned, was an easy question to answer. She could imagine how he would smile to himself after devouring another soul at his desk, leaning over and pulling this portal to her own personal hell open. How he would laugh at the thought of her misfortune and how the tools inside held such sway over her being. Standing up, Elise hurried back out before roughly closing the door and heading back to the lounge. Several boxes were brought in and Mark was casually talking to Dewayne and directing the other three on where to hide their equipment out of sight when he saw her, “There she is. The star of the show. My not quite desperate, house wife.” “I brought the copier.” Dewayne stepped up and took the offered device before Mark could, “Wow. This is something. I’ve seen them in the stores, but never actually out in the real world. Does it connect to your laptop?” Mark laughed as he poured two more glasses of whiskey and then grabbed a few cokes from the minifridge. “It just connects to my cloud account. I’ve already got a folder set up so we can get through this quickly.” The next two hours passed by painfully slow. Mark, the cautious creature that he was, took his time reading the book of documents to sign before so much as touching his pen. In the meantime, Elise was politely asked to show the three unoccupied crewmembers around the house while Dewayne answered any questions Mark had. Elise could barely muster a modicum of enthusiasm as she walked through her home. Not only was the “magic” of television production being ruined by her giving her First Look off camera, but the thought that Mark would find something objectionable and call the whole thing off weighed heavily. Finally she could hear laughter back in the lounge. Dropping her monotone description of the small pool sized bath, Elise rushed back with the crew in tow. “No need to worry. You wouldn’t be the first I’ve caught with something like this.” Her heart sank. Mike must have found something. Her smile felt cracked as she rushed in to see Mark signing the papers, “Oh. Umm… Is everything all right?” Mark looked up after dating next to his signature and held the pen out to his wife, “Of course. We just need you to sign now and then I can scan the documents while you can do whatever it is they do on these shows.” Yes. Yes, yes, YES!!! Her heart was pounding away like a jackhammer. She felt positively manic as Dewayne's voice grew further and further. It had no significance as her eyes followed his fingers to all the areas she needed to sign. Her hand felt like it was gliding on ice with each stroke as finally she felt the glory of victory rain down upon her. “I must thank you for providing a female camera woman. My sweet little Elise can get quite shy. I hope that you take care of her, Sofia. No offense Richard.” The sound of another moniker brought Elise down to Earth just as she finished the last signature, but little embarrassments would mean nothing soon. “None taken, sir. And if we need to do voice and sound without Danny, we have small equipment we can help you all with.” “So shall we begin?” Elise smiled up at Mark with as much malice as she could muster. “Mark, you can handle this paperwork while I introduce myself and the house. You can handle that, can’t you?” Everyone was quiet as they waited for Mark’s response. The power, the control. He can’t say a thing. He can’t do a thing. I have him completely under control now. Like the good little puppy he was, Mark smiled back and chirped, “Of course, Honey. Go have fun.” And have fun she was very much keen to do. But this was just the beginning. She smiled and danced for the camera as she “welcomed” them to her home. No detail was spared as she waltzed through the mansion with the camera hung on her every word. This piece was from Turkey, another from Moldova, and this desk was auctioned off from the Washington collection. Every desk, chair, painting, and installation was the culmination of her wealth and her achievement, but towards the end of her tour, was her power. Looping around she had purposefully avoided the lounge that she knew Mark was probably sulking in. Licking his wounds and maybe finally realizing the pickle he was in. “And this, right here is my loving and dutiful husband, Mark. Say hi to the camera Mark. He can be quite shy.” She felt positively high. Never… truly never had she ever been able to come close to talking to or about her husband this way. The very thought could have consequences. “Hello there. I’m Mark Deighlein. I run a few companies in the construction and landscaping business. I hope my wife doesn’t seem too desperate… or maybe that’s what the show is about.” Oh so that’s how you want to play this? “Dear, the whole premise of the show is how desperate housewives can be because of their husbands. Now, I’ve given them a tour so why don’t you sit down and explain whatever it is you do.” Elise was not about to back down. She had four strangers living with her for seven days. Strangers with camera’s who weren’t under her husband's thumb already, and she was going to fully enjoy tearing him down from that pedestal he’s been riding high on. The challenge was left at that as the camera’s focused on Mark while Elise got right to the next step of her plan. Talking down to that tyrant was exhilarating. She felt light as air as she skipped over to the opened laptop in the den. Flipping it open, she looked over to Regaliax. She looked at all the new designer dresses, shoes, and accessories Mimi had made recently. “What kind of friend would I be if I didn’t help support her business?” Mimi was sure to get a kick out of having to restock her private collection. Elise would have to get her coconspirator to tailor some of the cuter items later. I’ll have to schedule that this week. No way we can return any of this after that. It'll be my own little crossover revenge episode with her! Mimi and her wife had designed the online shop fairly plainly. Only those who knew the two would even get past the extra zero that came at the end of each item's price, but what Elise had taken into account was the large font of the final check out page. She sat there. Waiting. Biding her time, with her finger hovering over the purchase button. She almost decided to check in with her soon to be victim, when she could hear his hoof stomps echoing down the hall. Her timing was perfect as she quickly pressed enter the moment his shadow fell over her shoulder. “What was all that?” The ire in his voice was obvious only to her. It was the tone he often had when talking to one of his lackeys after they had made a mistake in front of the customer. The cool calculating tone of: you have irrevocable fucked up, but I can’t say that here. Here it is. My moment of truth. Elise turned around on the plush couch, looking back to thankfully see the camera’s were still rolling. “Oh, no need to worry about that. Just doing some online shopping while I was waiting for you to finish up.” Leaning over, Mark was able to see the wide list of items that were just purchased, but could no longer see the price. Nothing to confirm what he had just caught a glimpse of. “Oh, barely a pitance.” Her posh riposte was a clear lie. She knew it. He knew it. Their bank account knew it. Shoot, the only reason the bank wasn’t calling about potential fraud was the fact that she shopped at Mimi’s store frequently, albeit with significantly less allowance. A crack formed in the already jagged smile Mark wore, “How much?” “Oh, Mark. You silly man.” The words spilled out of her mouth. How many times had she silently mouthed these words after being put to bed? “No need to act like a miser. I could do a bit of casual shopping every day and not make a dent in OUR fortune.” Mark turned to face the camera woman, “Sofia, could you stand over by the side of the couch?” So you wanna try and ignore me? You left me alone and I already did all this, dummy. Time to nail home just how screwed you are. How in my palm you now are! “In fact, I’m planning on picking out some new furniture after dinner tonight. I already have reservations for Ella La Bistro down by the lake at 6:00.” Mark led Sofia to where he had directed before moving to the front of the couch. “The lounge is just too gaudy. I know you wanted it to reflect a more relaxed atmosphere, but I can’t allow you to humiliate me in front of our guests anymore with your…” Mark sat down on the couch next to Elise and away from where Sofia now stood, camera trained on the pair. He was so close that his imprint on the cushion caused Elise to slide closer, her shoulder bumping into his arm. Mark didn’t match her gaze as he sat, smiling and looking forward. “Elise?” “Uh. Yes… da… dear?” “What was our agreement when you told me that you had entered into this contest without my permission?” “Permission?” She had to get a hold of the situation. She had pushed too far, but now she had to salvage the rest of the week. “I don’t need your permission to…” “What was our agreement?” He looked down at her. His smile was curt and polite, but his eyes burned behind the relaxed expression. It cowed her almost immediately. Quickly looking to the crew, Elise wracked her brain on how to save face and explain their deal in as vague terms as possible. “We agreed to uh… act in er… act in a way that reflected our position.” Mark exhaled and nodded his head as he reflected, “Ahhhh. Act in a way that reflected our position?” He rubbed his chin as he leaned close and cocked his head, “But, honey. I don’t remember agreeing to that?” “Huh?” “You know what?” Mark reached into the front pocket of his suit coat and pulled out a folded piece of paper. “Maybe if you could read your contract out to me, I might remember?” How? How, does he have that? I made sure he didn’t get a copy. The only one is up in my… Mark began unfolding it before handing it over to the struggling woman, “I was super impressed, but couldn’t get it out of my head that it didn’t sound like something you’d write.” He leaned over as he gently placed the contract in her hands, “Didn’t sound like Mimi, or Spencer, nor the twins. Maybe Olive?” She looked up in horror. How much did he know. Do the other’s know? Are they okay? Mark shuffled for a second as he removed his jacket and folded it in twane before handing it up to Dewayne. “Dewayne, could you set this on the chair over there?” The crew were all speechless, save for Dewayne who just managed a quick, “S…sure.” “Now sweety.” His wide calloused finger touched the first paragraph of the contract Olive had written up for the cabal. “From the top.” The letters jumped and shook as she failed to control her hands, but it was barely a problem. Having read and reread this piece of paper countless times since she had gotten her hands on it, she could nearly recite it from memory. Taking another look around, she knew that very quickly the contents of the document would expose her. Her throat felt dry and her forehead was already forming beads of sweat as she began, “Identification of parties. This agreement is made between Mark Deighlein, (signer one) and Elise Deighlein, (signer two).” “Such a smart sounding document, read by such a smart sounding girl. Keep going, sweety.” He was enjoying himself. She had gotten past the first sentence with a relatively normal pitch and his degradment was edging her close to collapsing, but what came next… “Le… legal services to be provided. Signer one agrees that… that between the times of 10 a.m. Monday May the twelfth of 2022 and 5 p.m. May the 18th 2022, when in the presence of members of the show, Desperate Housewives of Maryland, that signer one will refrain from all activities outlined in section three of this document.” She looked around. Nothing yet, but now the fact that section three was mentioned… “Why don’t we skip right to those activities? We can skip over your section for now.” He was jumping right to it. Elise hadn’t been able to prepare herself. To come up with an excuse, to have an interruption, to stall. She stood up as she held the paper to her chest where no one else would be able to get a glimpse of its contents. “If I read that, then it will be a violation of the contract!” Grabbing her hand, Mark quickly pulled Elise towards him. Falling over his lap, she couldn’t even think to squirm before she found her arms pinned to her back. “What are you doing!?!?!” “Elise.” The magic was back. It sent shivers up her spine and forced her completely still. She wasn’t in control. He was. “Yes?” Her voice was unsteady and her gaze was firmly on the ground in front of her. “You already broke the contract.” “Huh?” “I thought you read it. Then again, you didn’t read the contract you just signed this morning, so it wouldn’t surprise me if you didn’t read…” “I DID READ IT!” Elise couldn’t remember the last time she had interrupted him. Given her position… She yelped as she felt a light tap on her bottom. Not a spank, but more like a pat. “Then if you read it, then you’d know that you needed to act like a big girl this week, and not like the spoiled brat,” THWACK, his hand clapped against the skirt of the dress that covered her rump, “that, you have been today.” The spank was nowhere near enough to get her to shed so much as a tear, but she quickly realized why Mark had positioned that girl at the edge of the couch. She had a clear shot of her now spanked behind. “Mark, stop! They are recording.” “That they are.” THWACK. That one stung just ever so slightly. “Everyone is going to see this!” “You should have thought about that before speaking to me like you did this morning.” THWACK. “But I…” “Or when you introduced me.” THWACK. “Mark, what about your reputation?” She shouted out. Elise waited for the next spank, but it didn’t come, however she could still feel Mark’s hand holding her down. Carefully she twisted herself to look up at him only to go pale at the look of his soft smile. A smile she knew all too well. Mark was gone. “Daddy?” “That’s right, princess. And Daddy is going to show everyone how much,” THWACK. “his reputation,” THWACK. “means to him.” THWACK. Elise could feel her dress being pulled up passed her hips, fully displaying her silk black panties beneath her sheer tights. “No!” She could feel the sting beginning, but a bare bottom spanking, “You can’t show a naked woman’s butt on television!” “I’m only showing how to properly discipline an unruly little girl.” THWACK. While still not completely bare bottom, that spank had hurt. In her distant past, Elise had been spanked by a number of people in less public situations, but Mark’s giant like hand had always been the worst. A single stroke from his hand was nearly as bad as the cane she had only once been brave enough to try. I have to stop this! “You!” She looked over to the camera man who had now positioned himself on the other side of the couch, meaning she was being filmed from both ends now. THWACK “Little girl, it is not polite to refer to grownups as “You”. When you address an adult you will refer to them properly.” The pain in her backside was increasing and beginning to cloud her memory. “Ummm. George?” THWACK “Not even close, sweety. Try again.” She really had no idea. Hell, if you asked her what the color of his hair was, she’d probably have a hard time without him right in front of her. He was just the camera guy! “Collin?” THWACK. “Where are you getting these names from?” “GIVE ME A HINT!” Her legs were now kicking out with each spank. Ants danced across each cheek. “It starts with a R.” It all came back to her. Mark had said it earlier. “RICHARD!” THWACK. The tears welled up in her eyes as she screamed out, “I GOT IT RIGHT! Why did you spank me!?!” Mark rubbed Elise’s inflamed bottom in firm slow circles, “That’s not how you address an adult, little girl.” “Mr. Richard.” Elise heard her daddy practically purr, “That’s a good girl.” Elise sighed before the feeling of Mark’s fingers began to pull back the waistband of her tights. Frantically she looked back at the cameraman, “Mr. Richard, I revoke my consent to be filmed. Please leave and delete your recording.” Richard looked nervously towards the back of the couch at what must have been Dewayne who quickly moved to the front and crouched down to near eye level with Elise. He couldn’t quite maintain eye contact though, once he started, “I’m sorry Mrs. Deighlein…” Mark spoke up from above, “Elise will do for now.” Dewayne looked up and cleared his throat, “Oh. My apologies.” Looking down at Elise again, he started over, “I’m sorry M… er… Elise. But according to the contract you signed, the only person who can tell us to leave, is your husband.” “Daddy.” Mark corrected, and Elise blushed at. Dewayne swallowed hard, “is your… daddy.” “What, how?” What could she possibly have signed? Elise felt the tights rip as they were roughly pulled from her waist. “No! Explain yourself!” Dewayne looked away as he blushed, “You, uh… We erm… When we record everything going on in the er… houses we shoot at. Sometimes things get heated and sometimes people will kind of try to stop us recording.” “You can’t just record without my permission.” “We can’t record without the homeowners permission.” Dewayne corrected. Elise was slack jawed at the implication. Of course she didn’t own the house. Everything was in Mark’s name. But wait… “You still can’t record me!” “Well you see…” Mark cut in, “That’s why you have to read those contracts, Elise.” Looking up, she could see part of the dark waistband held loosely in Mark’s hands. He smiled condescendingly at her, “When you signed the contract, you gave your right to revoke consent to the homeowner.” Dewayne jumped back in, “That’s right. Everyone in the house signs that right over to the homeowner, that way we can avoid conflicts.” “So, BABY girl?” The emphasis was not lost on Elise. She wouldn’t think Mark would take things this far, but even further… “How much did you just spend at Mimi’s” “Thirty-six.” It was barely a whisper. Hardly a hint on the wind. “How much?” Elise spoke up a bit louder this time, “Thirty-six.” There was tension in the air. A hard silence that held everyone’s breath. “Thirty-six, what?” His magic once again pushed past her resistances and without any warning the words dribbled from her lips, “Thirty-six thousand dollars.” Dewayne’s face was the first thing she saw as she looked up. The pure horror in his face was mirrored by the look on Richard’s face as well as Danny’s whom Elise was just now noticing. His mic had dropped down, far enough that it was probably in Sofia’s shot. Oh Sofia. Looking back, she could see that the camera woman also shared the same ghastly half open mouth image that her coworkers wore. Yup. Just the same. And then… Elise looked up towards Mark. Her stomach dropped and the tiniest trickle escaped past the thin lace of her big girl panties and onto the wooden floor below. Drip. Drip. Drip. The few drops caused the only sound in the room as the stone faced frown looked down on the terrified girl. It was like slow motion as she watched his hand rise up in a steep arc, before coming down like a tidal wave onto her damp bottom. SMACK! The wet smack against her bottom lit up every pain receptor she had ever felt. A solid hunk of force rippled through her entire body as the pain from the spank forced its way up and into her brain. Elise let out a shriek as Mark began to lay into her. SMACK, SMACK, SMACK. The pain continued on and on. The first blow was the most forceful, but the continued assault on her cheeks ignited into an inferno on her surely bruised backside. “How much are you allowed to spend without Daddy’s approval?” The snot had clogged her nose, making her response raspy and ruff, “Five… five hundred.” SMACK. “Owweeee! Please. Daddy, stop! I thought… ugh… I thought…” SMACK “You thought that some dumb little contract would stop me from tanning your hide when you spent over seventy times your allowance?” “YES!” SMACK “Were you right?” “NO!” SMACK “No, what?” SMACK “NO, DADDY!” Elise lay over Mike’s lap sobbing into his leg as she felt the dam fully break. The watergates were open and she proceeded to fully soak her panties, her dress, and her Daddy’s lap. “Uh, oh.” Mike’s singsong voice cut through the heavy breaths. Pulling Elise up onto his lap he pulled her head into his shoulder. “Looks like little Elise went potty on Daddy’s lap.” Elise couldn’t resist the comfort that came from her daddy’s soft bottom pats, nor his soothing voice. His magic eroded any resistance she had and she fully sank into his hug, wrapping her arms tightly around his neck. “Ummm…” Dewayne brought the pair's attention back to the company in the room, “Would you like to clean up. We can just…” Mark stood up positioning Elise to his hip where she wrapped her legs around his waist. “Yup, I’ve got to clean this one up. Get her into something more appropriate.” Something more appropriate. What a way to signal the final end to Elises week free from Daddy. Oh well. It was worth a shot. “Okay. Good luck with that. Richard, Sophia, you can take the cameras back to…” Mike paused by the starway, “Okay. All of you come along.” Dewayne fumbled with his words, “What? Oh. Oh, we can just…” Mike once again cut him off, “Earlier you said that we would could use some smaller equipment and Sophia for little Elise’s privacy.” No. Dewayne looked to Sophia who was just as shocked by the way this conversation was going. “Um.. yeah. But I don’t think…” “That won’t be necessary.” A collective, “Huh?” echoed through the room. No. Mark continued, “Little girls have no modesty, so you all are welcome to continue shooting as you are. Come on now. Time to get this babygirl into a nice thick diapie.” Oh, god that’s so much worse! “DADDY, NO!” SMACK. “Don’t you tell me no, little lady. I don’t even know where you could have gotten underwear like this.” Everything. All the little secrets she had hoped to hide, both from the monster carrying her up the stairs as well as the world watching everything those camera’s see, was coming out. “I doubt Mimi would be so bold. Unless Hannah has indulged in new play with Spencer, I doubt he would even have access to panties. I’m guessing one of the twins. Which one was it?” Elise buried her face into Mike’s shoulder. She might have been caught, but it would take a lot more than this to make her into a snitch. “I guess we should stop by my desk then. You left the drawer open, right?” “Claire! It was Claire that got me the panties.” Smack. It still caused her to jump, but this time, the spank was much lighter. “There we are. I’m going to have to talk with Alec and Stacy about Claire’s behavior. It’s a shame. I heard that she had just graduated out of trainers.” I’m sorry Claire! Please forgive me. Looking behind the beast carrying her, Elise watched the camera crew following along like zombies. Eyes wide open, mouths either firmly shut or slightly gaping, following along towards her demise. Even looking from behind, Elise knew exactly where they were the moment Mike stopped and turned to face the nondescript door. The only thing hinting at this being anything other than a closet, as she had alluded to during her first two tours, was the card scanner by the handle, locking anyone out who shouldn’t be there. “Here we go. Now, does my princess want to show the nice T.V. people her room?” He was asking her, not telling her. Which meant she had a choice? Right? Rather than vocalize her desire to be as far removed from this as possible, Elise once again buried her head into Mike's shoulder. “Uh, oh. Someone is shy, or maybe tired. Maybe it’s time for a nap. Either way,” Mike reached his arm up and pushed his watch up to the scanner. An audible click and Mike turned to the crew, “Dewayne, I have my hands full, could you open the door and let your team in?” Dewayne for his part, had a thousand yard stare going on as he reached forward and pulled the handle down. The door was on safety hinges so as he pushed, it effortlessly and slowly opened up to reveal a sea of greens, and blues, and little patches of bright color throughout. “It's… a forest?” Sofia was the first to recognize the painted walls that looked like trees with all sorts of flora and fauna mixed accented by the plush green carpet, but it was Danny who noticed there was something much more embarrassing. “Is that a crib, and a changing table?” Mike strode in past the dumbstruck camera crew heading for the aforementioned padded table. “Yuppers. Everything for my baby girl.” Dewayne walked over to the rocking horse that was much to large to fit a child. Pushing it back and forth as he began to notice all the other infantile paraphernalia he spoke as if only to himself, “That’s what he meant when he said diapers. This isn’t for a child.” All eyes, and cameras, were on Elise who was now fully splayed out on the animal print changing table. A thick white diaper with little animal cubs printed on it was brought out with a bottle of baby powder and layed next to her head. “Well, Elise may not look it, yet. But you have to agree that she has acted like a child.” Mike smiled down at the girl he was about to fully humiliate with all the love and adoration of a doting father. Elise for her part could only lay back and wish she was elsewhere. She had lost. Her plan had failed, and now the whole world would know about her. She had no idea what Daddy was thinking when he exposed her like this. Sure, she had been a bit of a brat, but why can’t she have all the fun she wanted for once? “It’s not fair.” Elise pouted. Mike brought out a pair of scissors and began cutting through not only her only pair of underwear, but also the green dress she wore. Could it be replaced? Yes, but the wet feeling around her butt meant that the rayon fabric would need to be fully cleaned and sanitized. Something neither of the two had done in years. “What’s not fair, baby?” She couldn’t look him in the eyes. Why would he hurt her like this? “I don’t want the whole world to know what we do.” She could feel the tears coming freely now. “And why is that, honey. You said yourself that this is who you are deep down. You don’t want to share this with the world?” The cut clothes were removed and Mike brought up the heated wipes. “I ONLY WANT TO SHARE THIS WITH YOU!” The sentiment lay heavily in the air as Mike began with her legs. “And what about Mimi? And Spencer? And everyone else you get to play baby with?” “Them too! But that’s all private. They are also into the kink scene. Spencer is a bigger baby than me!” A wipe right down the middle had her shiver in pleasure for just a moment before her face went right back to its deep shade of red. “Oh baby liked that? Anyway, your right baby. Daddy isn’t going to show the world how much of a pamper packing, thumb sucking, tamper throwing, diaper baby you are. Right, Dewayne?” Elise looked over to the camera crew, blushing as she could just barely make out the reflection of a nude body on top of a changing table in the black lense. Dewayne nodded his head, “While there isn’t anything per say in the contract about not filming sexually explicit content, we can’t exactly put anything up into the public either.” Mike chuckled, “It’s also not a great idea to get on a person’s bad side when they have near unlimited access to all kinds of heavy machinery, a questionable workforce, and innumerable empty worksites.” The threat was clear and positively received, based on the looks of everyone it had been directed to. Elise was still fuming, “Then tell them to stop filming, Daddy!” SMACK. “Little one, I have had enough of your tantrums today. You are to be the most well behaved baby on the planet for the rest of the evening, or we can head straight to my office. I don’t want to hear a single whine out of you. Am I clear?” Fully cowed, Elise felt her thumb slip past her lips and into her mouth, “Yeth, Daddy.” “Again?” Mike sighed as he reached down to pull the digit from her lips before pushing a thick Nuk 10 pacifier into the girl’s mouth. “Gotta break that habit one of these days.” Lifting her by the ankles, Mike slid the thick diaper under her bottom before laying her back down on the elevated cushion, “There. Now, the public doesn’t get to see baby Elly, but Daddy can always use more baby videos. So the nice camera crew are here to stay.” Looking over to the now nervous group Mike offered an olive branch, “I would be very keen on purchasing a high quality version of the content you won’t be making public. Very keen.” The crew looked to each other before focusing on the odd spectacle before them, convinced that whatever weirdness they may have gotten themselves into, a nice paycheck at the end would be worth it. “Now, since you were so rude to them, I think that our friends should get a say in your punishment. First, Danny. Give me a number between 30 and 180.” “Uh, 65?” “Richard, yes or no?” “Yes or no?” Mike chuckled, “Only one, please.” “No.” “Hmmm, conservative. Most people say yes. Dewayne, pick one, two, or three.” “Three.” “Okay, and finally Sofia. I’m sorry I have to be gendered about this, but no other man is allowed to put hands on my princess. I also fully believe in consent so for this question I’ll spell it out. Do you want to tape up this little brats diaper?” Sofia squirmed in place for a second, obviously against the thought at first, but shrugged her shoulders and handed off the camera to Dewayne, “Sure… I guess. Just show me how too…” “Ah, ah, ah. First, let’s hear what everyone else has chosen for baby Elly.” Elise for her part was suckling hard on her binki. The questions he asked could relate to anything, but the thought of someone not in her community participating in her treatment had her blushing all kinds of red. Thoughts of getting up and running out the door crossed her mind, but the moment she shifted her bottom, the stinging heat she felt on her seat convinced her that her idea would not at all be worth it. In the end if no one else is going to see it… I guess it’s just kink play? Ugh. Where’s Dashy? Looking around the stuffed horse was spotted resting on the crib. Making grabby hands towards it, Elise knew her Daddy would quickly retrieve her comfort friend. “Oh?” Mike did in fact notice, and instead of waiting, he quickly retrieved the animal for his girl. “Now for the results. First answer was 65, which means princess gets a 65 minute nap.” Okay, not so bad. “Next, the little girl is lucky. Bound to her crib, yes or no. Richard says no.” Oh, thank god. Richard, I’m sorry I ever forgot your name! Looking over she gave silent thanks to her savior, who returned it with a nod. “And finally. Dewayne, the meanest man in the land, said that whittle baby Elly needs a full cleaning with,” Reaching down, Mike pulled up a jar with little clear pellets that he roughly dropped on the table, “Three! Count em. Three suppositories.” Burying her face into Dashy, Elise was mortified. Three suppositories meant that the 65 minute nap she was getting would invariably end up stinky. Glistening them up with lube, Mike made quick work of the task as Elise squirmed and mewled at each invader. It wasn’t pleasant, but the jar was only half full, meaning this wasn’t an entirely unfamiliar process for the girl. Next came the powder and finally Sofia was directed on how to properly tape up her Safari diaper. “There we go, all wrapped up and sweet smelling… for now. Sofia, before you go back to the camera, do you mind picking out a onesie from the closet next to the rocker?” Making her way over Sofia hesitated as she opened the sliding wood door. “Oh. Oh my.” Every article imaginable that could fit in a toddler’s closet was there. Onesies yes, but also dresses, shortalls, footed sleepers, childish costumes, and most embarrassingly… “Is that… a straight jacket?” Sophia looked in awe as she pulled out the garment. Mike walked over, shocking the dazed woman when he gently grabbed the buckle and strap material from her, “Yes, and it’s not a onesie, so maybe we should just go with a standard pink.” Coming back to the table, Sofia’s choice forgotten, Mike helped the now desperate girl into her soft pink onesie. It was clear the poor girl was on the brink and Mike seemed keen on containing the imminent smell behind soft cotton. Being jostled around wasn’t helping her as Elise began feeling the cramps that came from suppositories. “Hold on a minute. What's that?” Elise followed Mike’s gaze to the stomach of her onesie. “What’s, what?” Mike’s thick hand rested on her lower stomach. Too late, Elise realized what he was about to do as she watched her lower belly pressed downward. The combined pressure was too much as Elise let out a moan. The spread open position was doing nothing to help keep the tidal wave of sludge out of her waiting diaper. It was impossible, given her position and the suppositories to hold on for more than a few seconds before she was loudly filling her diaper. Wave after wave of mush pushed into the seat of her pants and she filled her diaper like a toddler. The poop smeared across both cheeks as she exhaled deeply after the cramp had subsided. As she looked down at her now bulging bottom, she could just see the brownish white peeking out from behind the snaps of her onesie. “Okay, I think that’s enough for now. Unless the smell of poopy pamper sounds exciting to you four, I recommend you head downstairs.” The crew did just that and took their leave at Mike’s advice. Finally alone again, Mike bent over and passionately kissed Elise on the lips. A gesture sleepily, but happily returned. “Not exactly how you imagined this week, is it?” “I had you. I could have done anything I wanted and you could do nothing about it!” “Not for one second.” “Not when you cheat.” Ellie felt her bottom being smooshed against her as Mike’s hand kneaded the fresh mesh into her backside. “Hey.” “Hey what?” His other hand moved to the front of her diaper as his thumb firmly pressed directly into her slowly moistening crotch. “Hey, stop. I’m messy.” Her pout had been replaced with a moan as the feeling of her used padding being pressed against her sent waves of ecstasy budding across her body. “You always were a little diaper slut. Messy diapers never stopped you before.” “Daddy…” “That’s right, baby girl. Now, I bet being seen getting your naughty bottom tanned over my lap excited you. I bet the thought of messing yourself in front of total strangers has you positively flustered.” Leaning down he whispered into her ear, “I bet knowing that the very next thing I’m going to do is put you in that crib to take a nap in your mess while I go downstairs and explain to those very same people that you tried to use against me, that this kink and these diapers were all your idea has you ready to squirt all over your favorite diapies.” “Daddy! Daddy, please. I was a bad girl. I’m sorry daddy. Please. Please let me cum!” Pulling back the look of betrayal on his little girls face had Mike positively rock hard. “Nope. Daddy, isn’t going to get you off it your messy, stinky padding.” Elise sulked as she was carried over to the crib. However, that changed as a vibrator was dropped next to her. “Daddy wants his naughty baby girl to make cummies in her poopy diaper all by herself. Except. This time,” Reaching over he turned on the baby monitor. The baby monitor, that both of them knew connected to the speaker down in the lounge, where all the crew were. “You have to do it while everyone can hear you.” Elise looked mortified. Her gaze going between her Daddy, the wand, and the monitor. She was speechless as she watched him walk away, before turning off the light and closing the door. Smiling to himself, Mike wondered if it would take her long to cave. If he would get back to the lounge before or after she had already started. He knew it wouldn’t take long. After all, she was one desperate little house baby.

Hi there! This is a diaper prison story that I've been working on. It's supposed to be about a country that imprisons wealthy criminals in diaper prisons that include spankings and paddlings. More information about the complicated themes in the novel can be found here: https://www.patreon.com/posts/65185502 I have about 10 chapters written, and am working on posting them here over time. Content Warnings Extensive Forced Diaper Wearing (Wetting/Messing) Extensive Public and Private Humiliation Extensive Corporal Punishment and Bondage Extensive use of the themes of fear, shame, guilt, and dread Some consensual sexual slavery/servitude themes Occasional Sexual Themes Occasional Sexual Intercourse ***I do not condone any of the events or themes in this story, and do not intend to glorify or advocate that anyone conduct their life in this way. Nobody should model any sort of erotic behavior on the events of this story.*** -------- Tonight’s entertainment would be small, but that still meant it required every minute of Gillica’s day. It would require: Sweeping the inner foyer. Priming the Topiary promenade from valet dropoff to the main door. Scrubbing and shining all the windows of the Eastern and Western facing facades of Bisgrave Manse. Dusting all interior surfaces in the Hargrave room as well as the Opiante battle memorial room. Checking every piece of the ‘azure blue’ china set for imperfections and assembling it for the kitchen staff. And so much more of the long list of what was expected of her, and her fellow slave Penelope, every single day. Densen Polliver, the majordomo of Bisgrave Manse, son of the former majordomo of Bisgrave Manse and also grandson of the majordomo of the very same Manse, in the time when the Opiante battle memorial room was called something else, came to wake her up. He entered the slave quarters not yet wearing his uniform for the day, and flicked on the switch. Gillica woke up immediately with the light, and was already wide-eyed by the time Densen Polliver was undoing the locking mechanism on Penelope’s cage. Once Penelope’s cage was open, the slippers of Densen Polliver appeared by the entrance to Gillica’s cage, and he squatted down. He ignored all he saw as she stirred the cover off of herself. His sole focus was on the padlock. As soon as it was undone, he swung the door open and rose with a groan. Without a word, he closed the door to the slave quarters behind him, the only sign that he was there being the bright overhead light and the fact that the cage doors now swung open. -freedom- Penelope sighed above, rocking the stacked cages. Compelled by powers even Penelope would not tempt, she made her move, and Gillica knew to let her step out onto the small shared floorspace of the quarters before crawling out of her lower cage herself. The cage doors were oriented perpendicular to each other, such that Penelope could step down out of hers and Gillica could crawl out of her own at the same time, but Gillica had long ago learned that Penelope didn’t like that at all. Where the majordomo’s slippers had been, two pale and bare feet stepped onto the tiled floor. A moment later, a diaper fell with a splat between the feet. It was wet, though from her place down in her cage on the floor, Gillica could see that it wasn’t as bad as the one she herself had woken up in. The feet moved away, stepping across the tile floor with just the sticking sound that skin makes on cold surfaces. The feet walked to a table built into a wall, and now Gillica could see all the way up Penelope’s waist. The slave who slept above her, slave-one, found a container on the table and pulled out a square moist cloth. She drew it across her bottom, one cheek then the other, and then through her buttcrack. Another rectangle came out and she got the inside of her thighs. Another came out and she dealt with her frontside. These too, Penelope dropped on the floor when she was done with them. Still, Gillica knew better than to stir. Slave-one then hauled herself out of sight, onto the table. The sounds that came, the sounds of tearing, of a bottle hitting the top of a table, of the grunting and breathing of a woman dressing herself while laid down horizontal, were all immensely familiar to Gillica. They were sounds that had been her night and day for almost a decade, and figured to be sounds with her a lot longer. Or forever. No, not forever. When Penelope’s body re-appeared in her view, her bare legs now facing away from the table instead of toward it, and her groin now covered in a new, fresh adult diaper, Gillica knew that it was time to flip over on her stomach and make her way through the mesh door of her cage. Her back didn’t hurt when she stood, but the tile was cool and her head was a bit cloudier than it had felt when Densen Polliver had first turned on the lights. It didn’t stop her from predicting what Penelope wanted, though. Gillica’s discipline-a hard acquired skill of survival-took over for her, and she made her way to the table where Penelope stood. Penelope allowed her to pull herself on the table and lay her head down on the cushion. At least there was a cushion. She wished she could sleep here instead of on the mat on the bottom of her cage. Then her knees would not ache and she would not always have a persistent bruise on the top of her head. It would surprise some to know that the cage was not the worst place she could remember sleeping. It would also surprise some, perhaps even more, to know that it was worse than where she had slept most of the last decade. Penelope was wordless as she got to work. There was nothing to say between them. Penelope was slave-one and had at least the right to wipe herself. Gillica didn’t even have that right. It was a strange thing to think of as a right, and now and then it occurred to Gillica that, in this case, she was the one being served by the slave of higher rank. But it never felt that way. It was not supposed to seem that way. It was not that way. Gillica wore what she had been put in until someone put her in something else. What made it the way it was was the real and credible threat of what would happen if Gillica upset that order of things. That’s what made Penelope’s role of sliding a wipe between Gillica’s own buttocks, and another down her shaven vagina, the role of privilege. The slimmest, most minuscule form of an edge anyone could have. The only sort of edge that Penelope had over anyone, anywhere, except maybe those still living behind the bars of Stenton. Penelope could be caged by anyone in the household at any moment, could be ordered to undress, and could be ordered not to dress at all. She was above no task in the Manse, and not even in public were the paid servants of the Bisgraves or the AG Bisgrave herself required to bestow any dignity upon her. And all the while, prison loomed over Penelope. Four more years of servitude to Bisgrave, four more years of proving that without the watchful eyes of guards and cameras and the impossibilities threatened by steel and cement, Penelope could learn her new place in the scheme of things. Until then, cages and diapers. Until then, only one small island of autonomy; the right to change herself. And until then, one small land-grant of privilege. The right to make Gillica squirm. The diaper change was quick. Penelope was far less interested in Gillica’s cleanliness than she was her own, and that was fair. Gillica would require Penelope’s assistance many more times before the day was through, and the Bisgrave’s gave slave-one no credit for the additional labor. Quick and without tenderness. Gillica was clean and dry, and she hopped down off the table herself. She adjusted the tapes of her diaper, a small comfort nobody begrudged her. Penelope would expect her to clean Penelope’s piss-covered wipes that had been dropped on the floor, to ball up Penelope’s diaper by the cages where she had unceremoniously ripped it off, and to of course deal with Gillica’s own bloated and sodden mess that now lay discarded on the table. Gillica got to work, and washed her hands in a large sink-basin that appeared to be a holdover from when the slave quarters might have been a gardner’s storage room. Perhaps from before the north-side greenhouse was built. All that they would wear around the house was a maid’s apron. Black with white frills, tied around the back but covering little else. It was the same apron as the regular servants, the paid servants, save for that the paid servants had the choice of dress pants or dresses underneath. And dress shirts, of course. The men wore tuxedos, of course. The women were expected to pull their hair back and affix a white bonnet there as well, and this included the slaves. The apron did not cover what was most humiliating in her outfit, and anyone looking at her backside could not only see her diapers, but how much she had used them. But at least the gown covered her tits. Well, from the front at least. Everyone knows what I am, Penelope had observed once. So I like the freedom. They’re the ones diapering me, so I don’t care if they’re forced to witness it, referring of course to the stipulation that she must wear them, and not the fact that it was her own hands that performed the task for her overlords. Perhaps because Gillica was not just forced by Bisgrave to wear one did she feel differently. Perhaps it was the torture of finally having access to her undergarments, but still being prohibited from tampering with them, was what made her miss those ratted orange jumpers. “No matter how bad it is, just remind yourself of how much worse it could be.” Gillica tried to remember which cellmate had said that. It seems like something Saathia would have said. Out of self-pity, though, and not out of any attempt to comfort Gillica through one of those more uncomfortable nights. Densen Polliver had the list, ordered with numbers and expected time-to-completions on all of them. By noon more than half the list needed to be done, and if it was not, they would be permitted only one of those viscous smoothies instead of any actual lunch. “And dinner too,” Penelope asked, holding the paper. “And dinner too. You will both be expected to support the wait-staff, though you are not to be seen in the dining hall, nor heard. Is that understood?” Both slave-one and slave-two voiced their understanding. “I will remind you that the attorney general will be entertaining the Mayor of Stenton herself this evening. The usual retinue will not be in attendance; this is a private gathering. The wait staff will be in their weekend attire to accentuate the leisure of their meeting, and the menu will be adjusted according to the Mayor’s expressed desires. After dinner, the Attorney General will retire to the Opiante Room with the Mayor, where they will enjoy cocktail service by myself, with you two in-support in the ready-room. “Why not one of the servants?” Penelope asked. Densen Polliver’s hairy eyebrows twitched, annoyed that Penelope had pre-empted what he was trying to say. “You will be in attendance to offer personal testament to the rehabilitative power of Mistress Bisgrave’s criminal justice system, if required by the attorney general. You will execute this duty with the appropriate humility and exuberance expected of you and expected of any woman truly committed towards putting their lives of crime behind them.” Penelope reddened, but said nothing. Then Densen Polliver was gone. He was off to trade his slippers and nightgown for his tuxedo, and to shave the graying scruff off his neck. The slaves were permitted to eat, and were allowed to do so in the slave hall, where a large bench occupied a narrow ante-chamber between the kitchens and the rest of the servant’s quarters. Like Densen, the servants wouldn’t be ready for a little while, and Penelope and Gillica used this time to find food from the kitchen and occupy the table-on opposite ends-in the brief and blessed time when nobody would begrudge their presence. It was smart to eat in less than 10 minutes, and Gillica would eat faster if she could chew the dense protein bar any faster. And even with a thick adult diaper on, the servant’s bench was hard against her bottom, as if it joined with the Manse and all of society in prodding her to begin her work. In prison there was nothing to do. Now there was too much. Gillica started with preparations for the real servants. She washed any straggling dishes, she organized the fridge and made sure that their breakfast materials; milk, cereal, bars, vegetables, were in ample supply. She found the folder of servant orders and bulletined them to the board, making sure that each corner was square. She didn’t hate them. Not all of them, and those she did were for reasons of their own. They had their part to play. And Gillica…she had… She had hers. “Penelope, I’m wet already.” “I don’t fucking care.” Densen would paddle Penelope if he overheard slave-one say a think like that, and not just for the language. But if Gillica told on her, she’d get asked herself why she didn’t mark her wetness on the bulletin and cage herself to wait for a servant to send Penelope to take care of her. And there would be no answer to that, and they both would be paddled, and Penelope would have it out for her. So Gillica left Penelope to iron the servant suits, which they would not need until the mid-morning, and set herself to start on her list as far from the other servants as she could. Any that saw the growing yellow down below would order her to her cage to await Penelope, and give her no credit for falling behind on her chores. Ordered to her cage for soiled diapers too often, and she was spanked. But falling short on her tasks meant even surer and more frequent discipline. Gillica had learned that it was not a choice for her between winning and losing, but between losing, and losing harder. It wasn’t fair, but when she answered to someone who was on parole herself, who was herself one of the very bottom human beings in all of Shamuria and yet still wiped Gillica’s ass, it was all the lot that Gillica could expect. Gillica, wet, went out in the cool morning area to trim the hedges. It was almost a perfect temperature for her attire, and felt even better when she got down to work on the long line of green bushes. Trimming into a basket she went, ensuring that the bellies of the five-foot bushes were all uniform and that no leaves sprouted out like little branch boners. It was refreshing outside, and the smell of the sliced branches overpowered the smell of stale piss that had wallowed in the slave quarters since she and Penelope were caged for the night. When her basket was full she carried it across to the compost at the north Greenhouse, careful to not overfill it so none of the sliced branches tumbled onto the lawn that had been cut just yesterday. If she left any on the lawn and it was seen, a servant would hear of it and tell it to Densen, who would find which of the slaves took care of it, and bring a branch of considerably more heftiness and meanness upon her rump. A basket only could hold the branches from two of the hedges, and in total there were sixteen hedges to clip. Eight times she waddled across to deposit her clippings into the compost. Once she had addressed them all she walked carefully through them to make sure that she had not missed a spot. She clipped a few more times, and then took her basket back to the compost a ninth time and then left it there, happy to have finished one of the more involved tasks of the day. As she was returning to the Manse, which loomed tall and shadowy from the north in the morning sun, one of the delivery vehicles rumbled down the gravel path between the hedges. She stood out of its way, mindful of the submissive posture expected of a slave-servant. Hands at her back, head down. The delivery truck rumbled on, and whether the driver had seen or cared about her or not, she couldn’t tell. By now her diaper was heavy with urine, and she knew it was yellow all the way up the back. It was no good denying herself water and coffee in the morning, and she hadn’t tried that since prison. No servant would do anything but order her to her cage, even the nice ones, but Gillica’s list was extra long, and working was worth the risk. Sometimes the servants forgot to log her sinful pee in the ledger of improvement. Attorney General Angelina Bisgrave was not just her mistress, was not just her once-upon-a-time top jailer, and was not just Gillica’s punisher-in-chief. She viewed things more expansively. She viewed herself as something of a maverick and innovator to Shamurians, a mold cut from the stock of the Americans. She was all those things, mistress, jailer, and punisher, as well as goddess, granter, and mercy conditional. But over and on top of all these things, Angelina Bisgrave viewed herself as correctional. There were eleven servants who were servants and not slaves of the Bisgrave Manse. Ten of them served the eleventh, the majordomo Polliver, to whom the two slaves also served. In the evenings, the slaves also served the servants, tending to their dishes and their occasional needs. It was not uncommon for Polliver to add the servants linens to the list of responsibilities that the two slaves had to handle, though most days one of the servants themselves handled the accumulated laundry of them all. The servants preferred to keep the slaves out sight. It was better to keep the smelly diaper-bound slaves on tasks that couldn’t contaminate their own spaces and autonomy, however meagre they were. They would send them on tasks into the town for personal errands. Some snacks from the grocery, some envelopes from the post-office, or something for the Manse that was needed. Any servant could task her if the slaves were not still working through their daily bill. Finish the tasks too late, and get punished. Finish them too early and get sent into town without even an apron to cover her breasts. There was no winning. This became easier to handle once you accepted that you’d already been defeated. You will execute this duty with the appropriate humility and exuberance. Instead, it was Boris. The shimmering of his braces flickered through his smile. His coarse orange hair was unkempt, and if Densen Polliver found him he’d order him into his quarters to comb it. He probably already had, but it was a losing battle. Boris’s hair was as untamable as he was.being handcuffed, Gillica had seen the back of Yara’s diaper bow outwards as her slave’s laughter turned to pleading. They’d gotten Yara on a checkup violation, something about skipping parole meetings. There was a long court proceeding where Yara accused Gillica of preventing her from doing her obeisances to her overseers. That was the only court proceeding that Gillica had won, and Yara was sent down to prison again. But not, Yara celebrated on the day of her release, for as long as Gillica would be sent down. Not nearly. Gillica wondered what happened to Yara. Probably back in front of a court again, she figured. She didn’t wish ill will on many. Not even on obnoxious Penelope and her persnickity lording of the slave quarters. Pick up my piss cloths, shitter. It became easier to handle once you accepted that you’d already been defeated. But she did at least hope for discomfort for Yara. Maybe not all the way back to Stenton Prison, though that felt inevitable for that idiotic woman who would have fought Gillica off if Gillica had not kept her chained. Maybe just a harsh patron. A real upstanding elite who was unimpeachable and unyielding. Someone like Mistress AG Bisgrave. A real correctional. Gillica knew the servants were buzzing about the Manse now. Bisgrave had arisen and left in her car, driven by one of the servants, and they’d crunched up the gravel road while Gillica was emptying her bucket of twigs. She could see them in the windows, through the steam that came out of the western wing’s smokestacks, indicating that the labors of meals were well underway. Their maid uniforms, complete with dresses, flitted through the windows. Wet, with a diaper that felt not just wet up the back but wet in the front too, Gillica headed back into the servant quarters to get the window cleaning supplies. She’d get her outdoor window cleaning done before one of them spotted her and caged her, so long as she could get in and get out without one of them noticing. She entered the side door, which took her through the living quarters for the servants. It was a hallway of dorms, and the newer ones slept two to a room, while the more advanced servants slept alone. They would be empty at this time, Gillica guessed, and this morning she guessed correctly. Her diaper was sodden and sweaty, and she wanted out, but it barely registered as discomfort. Paddlings were discomfort. Wetness and itchiness were life. At least it wasn’t stewing underneath the old fabric of an orange jumper. At least she wasn’t in the cage. Yet. Her guess having paid off, Gillica only had to cross the main area of the servant quarters, take a left, and open the closet. This was the danger zone, as by being in the closet and by facing the closet, her rump was facing the whole openness of the main area, including an open angle into the kitchen. The number of times a hey, slave! Had come to her when she was in this closet was innumerable. It was a gamble, and the last three consecutive days had seen her go from closet to cage. Being soiled at this closet probably got her caged 75% of the time, no matter what time of day. Those were good odds. All of her other chores took her into the main living areas, and into the teeth of the rest of the servants. She looked both ways from the living area hallway, saw nobody, and made her move. She opened the closet, honed in on the extendable mop and the washbasin. She found the adjustable squeegee to stick on the end of it so she could reach the highest parts. Footsteps. There was no winning. This became easier to handle once you accepted that you’d already been defeated. Exuberance. You know what, a cage is a place I belong. A cage keeps me where I belong. A cage reminds me of where I’ve been and it doesn’t let me hide from where I’ve been. It’s not a box. It’s transparent, and by seeing through it they can see right into me. Onto what I’m wearing, and what I’m really worth. The footsteps continued, and Gillica picked up her bucket and stick and headed back to the living quarters. She waddled crazily now, carrying her supplies and all of her pee. But she made it to the door without a shout from one of the servants down the hallway, without any of the servants stepping out of one of the bedrooms to see the worried face she wore. She wasn’t worried about leaking. The attorney general she called her mistress, Angelina Bisgrave, the one who ruled her world, the one who sat on a throne of discipline that Gillica ministered within far below, had access to the best sort of diapers. PGV3000s, which Gillica worked out long ago meant Punishment Garments, Version 3000. They were designed to hold, because they were designed to become as uncomfortable as possible for the wearer before causing a problem for those that lorded over the wearers. Leaks hadn’t been a problem for her three years at the Manse. They hadn’t been a problem all throughout prison either. Only on her last night in jail, the night before they put her on the Ferry of Justice to take her where she belonged, to the cage within the cage within the cage and the true start of the life she deserved, did she make darkspots on her bed and jumper. The piss just kept coming that night. Uncomfortable it became, and the ever-tropical weather of Shamuria began to take its effect. Cleaning the tall windows that lined the facade was difficult work, and it splashed soapy water down on top of her (the soap and water she was able to get from an outdoor shed hidden behind some bushes on the far side of the Eastern grounds.) Her bonnet was sprinkled, and now and then a dollop of soapy scum got in her eye, and she bent and struggled with the hem of her gown to dry it out. She had to get her back and hips into the scrubbing, and the curled up posture of her cage-bound sleep came to haunt her. The stamina in her legs bailed on her quickly. The rhythmic pumping of her thighs to reach the highest parts of the window made the bloated diaper swing between her legs. Still she worked, moving her bucket down the row of windows when each one was finished. By the end, Gillica resolved to cage herself. Her body ached, and she guessed it was barely ten in the morning. She leaned the mop handle against the wall of the Bisgrave Manse, walls that were made of large stone blocks, and felt herself. Wetter than she had been, more than could be accounted for than just sweat. The cage was calling. The cage lurked around every corner. She packed up her equipment. She took the bucket and dumped its contents on the leafy floor of the palm grove that flanked one side of the grounds. She took the squeegee off and threw it in a trash bin by one of the sheds. It was covered in a brownish-green grime typical of the seaside tropics. Yara used to complain about that muck all of the time. Browner than my cocksucking diaper, she would curse. She brought the bucket and the pole back to the closet, and this time, the servants didn’t fail to notice her. She didn’t bother to tell them that she was going. She simply said. “Yes sir.” The servant who saw her had been sitting at the servant table, taking a quick break with the newspaper. He saw her come and and as soon as she turned her back on him, he barked at her. He was one of the mean ones. Male and eighteen and clearly the communist type, despite his role as a servant. At least what Bisgrave does keeps them in check, was something she’d overheard him say in the servants quarters. Them being her kind, them being the wealthy who were wrong. He relished humiliating Gillica and Penelope, finding any opportunity he could to take them leashed and in just diapers and sandals to the town. Never thought it’d come to this, up there in your villas, all high and mighty. Did you? Over and over again he’d make her respond. “Yes sir, I didn’t sir. But I’m glad sir. I need it sir. I was wrong sir. You were right sir. Whatever you say sir. This is my place sir. Humility is a lesson I still need to learn sir, and I appreciate your patience with me sir.” You will execute this duty with the appropriate humility and exuberance expected of you and expected of any woman truly committed towards putting their lives of crime behind them. “What are you doing, look at how much piss is in that thing,” he said, setting the newspaper down. Another servant, an older one, entered in from the kitchen, looked at Gillica, shrugged, and continued to the living corners. “What are you thinking? It seems like your disgusting ass likes it.” “I don’t like it, sir. I’m still learning responsibility sir.” “I think the cage is right for you then!” “I agree sir. I’m going to my place now.” Oh, how the little man enjoyed it. Boris was his name, and his teeth were still in braces and his hair was all mopped. She walked herself into the slave quarters, aiming herself for the cage. She wanted the cage. Earlier she thought to approach her day with a mind to minimize the amount she took the paddle, but now she hardly cared. She was so tired, and her cage was calling. Penelope could take an hour to filter down and wipe her pussy, and thus absolutely doom her from finishing even most of her chores, but at least her legs could rest. As she entered the quarters, something stirred next to her, and she saw that it was Penelope, on her back where she had been earlier. She was changing herself, and this time her diaper was far worse than Gillica’s. A pile of stained wipes grew to cover the open mess on the diaper. Gillica didn’t even flinch. This was life since the day they came for her, when she found herself with cold steel on her wrists, when Yara bricked herself because she knew she was going back. Penelope looked at her, and then returned to her work. Her neck craned down her navel to observe the work cleaning the shit off of her ass. There was nothing to say between either of them. “Don’t just fucking look at it, get in your cage and wait for me, you useless idiot.” Wordlessly, Gillica did as she was told. Even the thin mat and blanket felt comfortable on her aching muscles. She watched Penelope’s progress, knowing that the job of packing the dirty diaper up and bringing it to the disposal a few yards away would be her job. “Are you shitted?” “No,” Gillica answered. “Goddamn it,” Penelope answered. “You’re going to make me wipe your cooch all fucking day aren’t you?” Gillica didn’t answer. “You know. In four years. When I’m free of all this, I’m going to come and buy your ass off Bisgrave. You know I still have an estate, right? I’ll have enough if she’ll sell you. She’ll be tired of you by then. And then I’ll get back at your shitty ass. I’ll make it so miserable on you that you’ll finally learn to clench that wide open asshole you have.” Both of them were required to use their diapers. Penelope’s requirement was a legal one, a stipulation for all former occupants of Stenton prison who were still on parole. Parole was not a post-punishment phase, it was a reintroduction phase. Penelope had to exist in the world while being seen as the least of it, the base and mean denominator of all of Shamuria. If she tried to escape her new role in things, if she was ever found clothing herself more than ordered, or if she was found using a toilet, she’d risk trading her steel mesh cage for a concrete cell again. Some owners were lenient, Gillica heard. The top cop of Stenton was no-nonsense. Correctional did not mean forgiving. Gillica’s reasons were simpler. Finally, Penelope rolled herself off the table, a new fresh diaper taking the place of the old one. Gillica once again understood her queue to get to work removing the detritus of the old one, doing her best to avoid touching any of the shit that her fellow slave left behind. She balled up the diaper, taking care that all of the soiled wipes were contained within it. She used the tapes to wrap it into a ball, a technique she’d learned from countless prison guards ages ago. She carried it like nuclear waste over to the bin, stepped on the foot locker, and deposited on top of her and Penelope’s overnight briefs. Then she washed her hands in the bin, and began to undo her gown, while Penelope re-did her own. On the table once again, Penelope stood over her and got to work. Gillica felt the tapes of her PGV3000 come undone, exposing her pussy once again to the brick walls of the humble slave quarters. She tried to relax on the slab of the table, lowering her head and letting Penelope’s grunts and taps instruct her on whether to raise her legs or lower them. Just then, the door opened. It could only be a servant, and Penelope dropped the cold wet cloth she had been drawing through Gillica’s buttocks to face the door at attention. Gillica turned her head on the slab to see who it was, but she did not feel that, in this position, her movement was required unless it was Bisgrave herself. And Bisgrave herself never came down here. Instead, it was Boris. The shimmering of his braces flickered through his smile. His coarse orange hair was unkempt, and if Densen Polliver found him he’d order him into his quarters to comb it. He probably already had, but it was a losing battle. Boris’s hair was as untameable as he was. “Got bad news for you idiots,” he said. “Penelope. The domo just came by, and I told the domo that I caught you taking a dump in the Opiante room. He’s very displeased.” “Did you tell him that I was profusely sorry, and the need came over me and I couldn’t get out of the sacred room in time?” “You know he doesn’t care. He expects more out of his slave-one.” Gillica could feel the rage coming through Penelope, a quivering anger that threatened to rise up from her ankles into a fighter’s stance that would culminate in a savage punch to Boris’s askance teeth. And a trip back to Stenton prison, should she actually punch, and stripped of the small rights she had over Gillica, no matter how she begrudged them, and the cruel inevitability of the dock. What was more, Penelope had obviously tried to shit herself in the Opiante room on purpose, as a sign of disrespect. Gillica could see right through it, and could see that Penelope’s rage was half-directed at herself and the fury that her act of defiance had ended in capture. No room codified the brilliant patriotism and public service of the Bisgrave genealogy than the Opiante room. It was a room Gillica had heard of, and an event Gillica was very familiar with, long before her life changed and they came for her. The pride and joy of the Bisgrave family, the Bisgrave estate, and the Manse itself. At least when Gillica was caught soiled in there, there was the defense that she couldn’t do much about it. Penelope had no such defense. “I’m sorry sir,” Penelope said. She hid her anger well, but Gillica had known Penelope longer than Boris did. They’d overlapped at Stenton Prison, and Gillica knew the stance and tone of someone obeying a haughty guard. “I will accept whatever the majordomo deems necessary to correct my behavior.” “He said to cage yourself.” “I will do it gladly and await his further instruction, sir,” Penelope said. She turned briefly toward the cage, and then stopped. “Sir, should I finish changing slave-two?” Boris’s face expanded into a wide grin. He looked at Penelope, and stared at her from sandals to bonnet. “No, slave-one. The domo made it clear that your caging should be interrupted for nothing. I’ll finish with Gillica,” he said. The room was silent for a moment. The quivering anger that Gillica had observed in the twitching of Penelope’s calves, in the sway of the inches-deep padding of Penelope’s pristine white diaper, gave away. The anger was displaced by a stunned stiffness, stunned, like a small rodent paralyzed as the wheels of a mighty vehicle bear down upon it. Gillica’s pussy felt cold there on the slab. “Yes sir,” was all Penelope could say. She said it stiffly, and she didn’t look at Gillica. Instead she turned on a heel, exposing her diaper to the two of them, and walked toward her cage. Gillica could tell it took all of Penelope’s effort to hold her head high. Boris watched her go into her cage, and then stepped forward and found the key on a loop on the wall, and addressed the lock. Penelope was on her knees, her head bowed, her eyes staring blank out at the door to the slave quarters, as if hoping that by somehow watching, Densen Polliver would not arrive. “And you,” Boris said, coming closer to the slab that Gillica still laid on. “How far along in this change are you?” “Slave-one just started, sir,” she said, to the scruffy-headed eighteen year-old. “Alright,” he said. He looked over her nakedness like a starving man viewed a five-course meal. If it was left to the servants to deal with Gillica’s diapering, it was generally one of the older, more established ones. Never in his short tenure had it fallen to Boris, the newest and youngest of the group. Gillica wondered if he’d ever touched a vagina, or touched a woman at all. He seemed to know how it went, though. He found the wipes and got to work. He was not mindful of their coldness against Gillica’s skin. To his credit, he did not linger on her pussy, as she expected (and would have tolerated, no, would have enjoyed). Penelope treated her sex as if it were poisonous, even though Gillica knew for sure that Penelope had succumbed to the allure of tenderness during her incarceration. Gillica had no aspersions that her piss-covered pussy was romantic. She tried not to think about love at all, anymore, but sex was hard-coded into her body. The only way men touched her anymore was on a changing table, and her mind had learned enough to crave it. Even if the guards had discovered her sharing many cots in lockup, searching for the same tenderness that Penelope had sought, it was men she wanted, and it was changing tables where men found her. Even eighteen year old servants like Boris. “I always wondered why you chose this,” he said as he wiped the piss off her groin. “You’re not under threat of prison anymore,” he said. There were many answers to that. But Boris supplied his own. He took a wipe and held it up, showing to Gillica that there was more than pee, but less than poop on it. “Now I understand,” he said. Yes, you dolt. At least you know the difference between a pissed on pussy and a moist one. And no. It’s not for you. It’s just that your hand is male. You’re not Penelope, that’s all. And it’s certainly not why I swear myself to Attorney General Angelina Bisgrave! But she could do nothing but mutter a ‘yes sir,’ to him. It was a damn shame that she could not for a moment relish the cowing of Penelope before stumbling further into her own humiliation. She tried to distract her mind as her legs went in the air and he dealt with her asshole. Penelope. Penelope is in for it. Maybe I’ll be wiping her ass again, as it was for the short while after she arrived, until she stole that job from me. Maybe the shoe was soon to be on the other foot. Maybe her station was rising in the Manse. It didn’t matter if where you rose wasn’t high, it did matter if where your rose was as high as you deserved to go. There was something to be said for that. “You’re not out of the woods either,” Boris said, finding a fresh diaper for her. His words crushed her out of her brief reverie, and back into the disgusted awareness that his motions on her privates felt good. “You cleaned the windows, didn’t you?” If there was anything that could dry her pussy up, it was that question. She would have squirted for the mop-headed fool if it meant he could never have asked it. “Yes sir,” he said. “Well unfortunately, you’re going to have to do it again. You left streaks, big ones, on every window.” “I understand sir,” she said. Streaks, what streaks! Was this a joke? Her muscles cried out in rebellion. Cage, I just want to crawl into my cage. I thought it was going to be just me and my nice little cage! “The mistress herself came back in her car and was outraged. All of the servants will have to work extra hard to pick up the slack from the both of you. She wants you to give the windows another shot, and if she isn’t pleased the second time when she personally inspects them…” Boris shined his braces once again. This time, his fingers did linger as he spread lotion on her crotch. She felt herself moisten again. Felt his strength and imagined his cock. It had been so long since she’d felt a cock go inside her. She didn’t care who owned the next cock, she’d fuck it if she had a chance. But to feel like this in this context was torture. “Yes sir,” she muttered, again. “I will do the windows again, and accept the Mistress’s judgment,” she said. All she felt was a warm, rushing sensation. A pooling, trickling, splashing one. Boris yelped and stepped back in surprise. Gillica sat up to see a fountain of piss exiting herself onto the opened and formerly dry diaper that Boris had been preparing for her. “Disgusting, pathetic. Idiot. I can’t believe this happened to me on my first time!” Boris said, examining his shirt to see if she’d gotten pee on it. He continued to inspect himself, cursing and sputtering under his breath every time he found her urine on his servant’s uniform. Gillica laid down her head on the slab once again. There was no winning. This became easier to handle once you accepted that you’d already been defeated.

Hi, I've been requesting for a story for a while, and while I've objectively found some things that I like, most of the times I've found myself thinking "I would have done otherwise". So I decided to start writing one on my own. BUT! I wanna give you a fair warning before I start getting into the story 'cause I feel like you all deserve it, since I don't want to waste anyone's precious time. 1 - This is my first time writing a full story, so it is highly possible that it will be convoluted and lead to nothing. 2 - English is not my first language, so it's probably not gonna be an excellent piece of art, especially if you are someone who enjoys literature. 3 - The most important point. If you expect this get to the "kinky stuff" immediately, don't get into it. I like to take things slow and have that sweet characters development. 4 - Yes, I started this story elsewhere and I think here too but I will restart it and continue it now CHAPTER 01 "And why on Earth would I need an assistant again?" John Jefferson, 28, was 3 when he was diagnosed with a very rare disease that affects both muscles and bones, making them fragile; while it wasn't lethal on its own, it made it impossible for him to put any muscular mass by weight lifting, and also forced him to be cautious with his eating habits, since his legs might fail his structure him if he would have become overweight. On top of that, he was also on the shorter side, so being a 4'7very skinny man, he surely wasn't the bossiest looking dude in the office. Although his problems, he's always tried to get what was best for him and tried to give himself some authority. He grew a nicely shaped beard, he became witty and, contrary to most people in his position, he would always go to work wearing a suit and a tie. "First and foremost, it is a cost efficient solution. Our new employee is a promising intern that will work here for free for the next six months. If she, as I expect, will turn to be good enough, we will hire her with a full-time job, so I need someone qualified to teach her. " Ever since Mrs. Thompson retired, Janna Prickles, a 51 years old unmarried men hater became his new boss and things only started running slower for his career; it was bright as the day that Janna had a particular taste in torturing him. And the hate was mutual. Short and plumpy, she always used to wear overly coloured outfits that made her look like a knock off version of Queen Elizabeth. Fitting for her personality, John thought. John rolled his eyes and sighed "In other words, I have to babysit." but Janna blocked him with an evil grin. "I took care personally and decided for her amongst tons of other students who signed for this position. She's a quick learner, don't worry. Also, there's a second reason why I needed for you to have an assistant: even though you're better at your job than I like to admit, you're still an annoying little prick who needs to learn how to be organized, so she will take charges of your time schedules from now on." Truthfully, his office looked like a mess, and his schedules were all over the place, he couldn't argue with it. But there was more. "Oh I see now. It's about the Gravéneux fiasco! Look I told you already it was not my fault if Stuart went through my stuff and mixed 'em up lik-" "I know and that is why he had been fired. But let's be honest for a second here. Just coincidentally it wasn't your fault this time. It was surely not the first time your pig habits got in your way. I know this is more about pride than anything else, but you DO need help in that front. And you can be helpful yourself." That didn't sound very convincing at all to John, and she knew it; so, sighing and looking down, she continued her speech. "Fine, I knew it would have come to this. I've already hired her, as a matter of facts, she's already waiting in your office, as of now. Since I know that you need something to be motivated, here's your goal: in the next six months I want to have someone who is just as good as you doing your job, and you are the only one who can teach her. Make me proud, and you'll get a 6% raise." Finally she was talking business, he thought. John was a very proud and goal oriented person, and this seemed like a good deal, which he closed by shaking hands with his boss. He walked to his office and opened the door. His new assistant was standing there, right in front of him. <HOLY SHIT> was all he could think of, but he limited himself to think it, and open his eyes wide.

Three Strikes and You’re Out! By Horatio Husky One I swear if he’s out at the gym again for one of his ‘impromptu workout sessions’ I’ll bite his tail off. These musings came from the mind of a black and golden tan German Shepherd fur as he shivered, cold despite his thick fur and winter jacket at the doorstep of his friend’s house. The two had only been friends for a few months, but a lot had transpired between them during that time. Being a police officer, Rick was expected to keep his body in a state of fit physique and agility to operate at peak performance. Thus, he had found himself acquiring a gym membership after a few months at his new job when he had noticed a suspicious increase in mass around his midsection. Not wanting his fate to end like any other stereotypical donut munching cop, he had started to frequent his local gym several times a week, usually after his shift ended. At that establishment he found himself seeing a certain, rather athletic looking arcanine, who always seemed to be in the most chipper, friendly of moods whenever he saw him. After a few days of a few moments of eye contact and nervous smiling, he had come over to him and introduced himself as, ”Anthony, but you can call me Tony!” His confidence and self-assured grin had given him a friendly glow that Richard found he liked very much, and he extended his paw to shake and replied with his name. The following weeks turned into a blur as the two canines hit it off better than either of them had expected. Beyond exchanging their own little fitness tips and tricks their sense of humor was shared as well, and they found great excitement and amusement in exchanging their own ideas and perspectives on the world, which the two found that although they differed on many subjects they both found hearing what the other had to say about a particular argument quite interesting and engaging. They had gone out a few times too, to a few lesser-known bars that the arcanine had said he preferred to go too since he usually wasn’t recognized there. At this strange comment, Richard had raised his eyebrows, thinking that his friend was making a joke. Tony had smiled a little, the first time in fact that Richard had ever seen him look sheepish, as he explained that he was a locally well-known baseball player, and had found himself getting bothered quite a bit at some of the other establishments he had frequented previously. Richard had done a google search, at Tony’s suggestion more to humor him than anything, but found to his surprise a Wikipedia page confirming his newly made friend’s claims at athletic success. Tony had then told him something that warmed Rich’s heart. He had first begun to talk to the shepherd because he felt was searching for a friend who wouldn’t want to be close to him just for his fame, but someone who liked him as a person. This warmed the cop’s heart, and he had wrapped his arm around the hulky arcanine’s shoulder and smiled at him conspiratorially, saying that he was more than happy to be such a person for him. Naturally, after such a warm entrance into friendship, they had gotten plastered that night and ended up somehow both falling on top of each other back at Tony’s residence. Things had progressed down a path that the two had not fully acknowledged, even to themselves, but yet both somehow knew that would traverse if things continued. Tony had leaned forward into a passionate kiss, pushing himself against the shepherd in an act of shameless passion to which the drunken shepherd could only respond in kind. Their passions lead to the stripping of clothes and before Richard knew it the arcanine had begun to take control of him and his body in the most loving fashion he had experienced to date. Being straddled by the muscled beast he had whined and howled in pain and ecstasy, the arcanine leaning down to his ears and whispered sweet nothings into it, even going as far as gently biting the nape of his neck and embracing him around the chest as he thrust himself into him. The lovemaking had lasted a decent while, Richard remembered how he had marveled as just how well Tony had paced himself, most likely due to his athletic training and discipline. By the time Tony finished, at last, the shepherd found himself able to do little but pant and gasp for air in an orgasmic trance, having climaxed himself several minutes ago while Tony had still been going strong. The arcanine had grasped him under the chin and brought him up to his face. They kissed more, the arcanine rubbing his back and humming soothingly to the receptive canine, thanking him for a wonderful time. Richard could only smile goofily back, completely and utterly entranced by the wonderful being before him who he had so perfectly made love to. Richard stamped his feet, trying to keep warm even as his cheeks flushed with red standing in the cold at Tony’s doorstep, remembering how they had then fallen asleep spooning, Tony being the big spoon naturally, and how the shepherd had woken up to Tony cooking him breakfast, wrapped up in a snuggly blanket on his couch. They had spent the morning chatting about the previous night, now almost completely unabashedly speaking about their own preferences and even delving into fetishes. They had been surprised just how well they had meshed together in lovemaking last night, Tony causing Richard to blush when he told him how he wasn’t surprised at all how to find that the shepherd was so subordinate. “I mean come on, anybody looking at you even from a mile away could see that you totally scream bottom!” Richard had almost coughed his coffee out of his maw at this comment, causing Tony to only laugh louder between fork-fulls of syrupy pancake. The canine had blushed in response to the arcanine but smiled good-naturedly. Although normally his tough, police officer persona was the one he operated on most of the time, he found that he felt comfortable letting his guard down around the arcanine, even to the point of expressing his submissiveness to him. After his normally uncharacteristic blush, the arcanine had gently inquired about the shepherd’s preferences, whether he had considered himself a sub for long. The two spent the rest of the morning discussing their own sexual experiences, preferences, and even fantasies. Throughout their dialogue the arcanine seemed to work magic onto Richard, gently but firmly inquiring as to what he would enjoy and wouldn’t, as well as what thinks he would enjoy not enjoying. The shepherd’s heart rate rose up multiple times during their exchanges, excitement filling his body that not even his job offered him during moments of pursuing justice and chasing after criminals. “Wait here, Richie, I think I have something that you might enjoy.” The arcanine winked before rising to his full height and softly strolling out of the room, a devilish expression on his muzzle. Richard could only lean forward off of the couch and look after him, wondering what his attractive friend was wanting to retrieve. “Close your eyes, Richard.” The canine obeyed and heard Tony shuffle towards him before stopping in front of him. “You can open them now.” Richard opened his eyes and gazed up at Tony before looking down to see that the arcanine was holding something in front of the shepherd’s nose. Richard took a sharp breath and quickly realized what the object that lay in the arcanine’s outstretched paw was. A small, white chastity cage was being presented to him, complete with a steel, heart-shaped lock adorning the bottom. The German Shepherd’s heart pounded in his chest, and he looked up wide-eyed into Tony’s own well-knowing eyes, understanding what he was being offered. “What do you think buckeroo, wanna have some fun? I think I could go for dating a cutie like you. After all, I think after last night you’ve proven that you might be needing this. You made a mess all over my couch after all!” Richard’s cheeks reddened at the playful admonishment, but his eyes looked back down onto the cage in front of him. He opened his lips as if to speak, but found it difficult to articulate what he felt. Picking up on his apparent speechlessness, Tony squatted in front of him and looked up into the blushing shepherd’s eyes, his voice softening now but retaining the same firm assuredness that proliferated his entire being. “How about I help you put it on, would that help, pup?” The shepherd could only nod shakily in response, his breaths still coming in heavy and deep as his entire being seemed to grow warm and vibrate in excision and stimulation. The arcanine gently pushed on the shepherd’s shoulders and repositioned him onto his back. Scooching over onto the couch he unbuckled the shepherd’s jeans and slid them down, following with his underwear. Richard’s member had begun to grow slowly after he had been approached by the arcanine’s offer but had not yet reached full erection. Tsk-tsking at the apparent excitement the canine was displaying, Tony worked efficiently and quickly at sliding the tube over the shepherd's not yet fully excited head and looping the support ring underneath his testicles. Richard felt a firm pressure on his jewels, which increased to a more distinct pressing feeling as he heard a soft click, and then a louder one as the cage was locked firmly into place. His member now strained against his confines, but to no relief as the plastic prison kept his erotic excitement firmly and securely in check. Tony grinned, and almost cooed as he said. “Looks like our little friend here is having a hard time containing himself! It’s a good thing I was around to make sure that he doesn’t get himself into trouble now, no?” Tony’s words washed over him like a stimulating wave of air, causing a shiver to run through him as both tone and context of what the arcanine said turned him on immensely. The amateur baseball player had a charm and confidence that the shepherd could find almost irresistible. He couldn’t help but blushing slightly, as he gazed into the arcanine’s eyes, feelings of attraction and yearning coursing through his veins as he strained against the cage around his member. Tony offered a paw to him and helped Richard up to his feet before helping him redress, surprising him by delivering an impassioned and deliberate kiss on the shepherd’s cheek, causing him to his great embarrassment to stammer a little bit in response. Tony’s eyes glistened as he let out a loud laugh, grinning broadly and looking directly into Richard’s eyes and winking confidently. “Oh Rick, this is going to be more fun than I could have possibly imagined, I figured you were a total sub but to this extent? I think this is going to be a luxurious time.”

(A little story I wrote for another site but thought I’d cross post here) And I can’t fall asleep I lie in my bed, no not a bed, a crib. It’s a god damn crib. And it’s white and it’s got pink all over it and bunnies and I hate it. And I can’t fall asleep. In my mouth there is an invasive piece of latex. It is strapped there so I can’t spit it out. I suck on it. Partially out of reflex and partially out of need. And I can’t fall asleep. I shift my weight and the thick padding between my legs squishes against my body. It is thoroughly soaked with my own urine. I feel the wetness surrounding my skin. Enveloping me all over. It crinkles noisily. And I can’t fall asleep. Beneath that my cock lies encased in some kind of prison. I can feel everything, but the material is unyielding. I can’t get hard. My balls ache with untapped need. And I can’t fall asleep. I don’t know what day it is. Hell, I don’t know what year it is. How long have I been away, has she been in charge. If I fall asleep I fear I won’t wake up. She will. And I will once again be reduced to that annoying adorable sissy baby girl. And who knows when I’ll be back, or if. So here I lie, in a crib ,sucking on a pacifier with a large over sized wet diaper between my legs containing my useless imprisoned cock. . . . And I CAN’T fall asleep.

Hi, I've never written many stories in my life (and never about abdl before). So this is my first abdl story, hope you like it. Chapter 2 is ready, I'm just checking the text. It will be posted soon. Ps.: My main language is not English and I don't speak it very well, so I had to use an online translator and a grammar checker. The story in the original language is correctly written, but I had to make some changes to the translation, it shouldn't be perfect, I hope you understand. Ps2.: If this story is similar to one you've read before, it's purely coincidental. I've read many stories, but none quite like this, even if I've read a similar scene. Chapter 1 - Current Situation Sometimes I wonder how I got to this point in my life, the only thing I know is that at this moment I find myself lying here in the dark, inside a pink crib with a locked lid, while my ass is sore from the punishment I received for breaking yet another one of ''mommy's rules’’. To make matters worse, in addition to the pain in my "bumbum" (as Mom prefers to call it), I feel my dick throbbing inside the small, pink chastity cage I'm being forced to wear, and to complete the situation, a big, thick, pink and soaked diaper, covers it all while protecting ''my crib'' from accidents. The only light on is a small, dim pink lamp on top of a piece of furniture next to the changing table. From inside the crib, I can see few things in the room, but what I can see are all things from the “mommy’s sissy baby” (would that be me?). While I don't feel sleepy (because it's too early, since Mom put me to bed early as a form of punishment - it's 07 p.m.), I keep looking at the nursery I'm in, and I can see a changing table with a huge stock of diapers in the spaces below, all diapers are big and thick, some colored and some completely white, but all are quite large and look like night diapers for their size. Near the changing table, I see a closet where mommy keeps all of my new clothes she bought for me, most of them frilly pink dresses, onesies and other humiliating clothes. Also, I can see the armchair where mommy just spanked me as punishment for breaking the rule that “babies can’t ask for their diapers to be changed, only mommy decides when to change.” I'm wearing a pink onesie as a sleepwear and on the front of the onesie it says ''mommy’s stinky sissy baby'', I'm also wearing thick cotton gloves that don't allow me to use my fingers, so I can't take my diaper off during the night, just like I have a big pink pacifier stuck in my mouth with tape. Mommy said she doesn't want to come in the morning and find me without my pacifier and have to punish me again. Time passes and I hear mommy walking around the house and talking to someone on the phone, but I can't hear what she says. While I'm here I've wetted my diaper twice more and I'm starting to doubt I'll wake up with dry sheets tomorrow, plus, mommy said I better have a fully used diaper when she comes to check on me tomorrow morning or else I'll be punished again. I was very bored from just lying in my crib for so long and ended up falling asleep. I wake up the next morning not knowing the time, but with a few rays of sunlight already coming in through the window and through the curtains, leaving the room a little bright. As soon as I remember my situation I feel my diaper more flaccid and cold with the large amount of pee in it and I remember what mommy said the night before about using the diaper completely. I was too scared that mommy would suddenly open the bedroom door and I still haven't used my diaper completely, so I close my eyes and try to focus on getting my diaper a mess. I start pushing and all I feel are farts coming out and making noise inside my diaper. Suddenly, I start to hear footsteps in the hallway and my fear grows. Mommy was already awake. I keep pushing but nothing but pee fills my diaper even more, so as I continue my effort mommy opens the bedroom door at the same time a loud muffled sound comes out of my already swollen diaper and when I open my eyes, mommy has a smile on her face watching me from the door and says: - ‘’Own, is my sissy baby pooping in her little diaper for mommy? How cute! Let mommy check your diaper. That was it, there was no more time, mommy would check my diaper and realize I didn't do #2 and punish me again. Mom walked over to the crib, opened the top cover and lowered the side rail, then took off the sheet that covered me and I saw her look towards my crotch. - ‘’Looks like my baby girl had an accident and her diaper leaked in her crib, but what a naughty little girl.’’ I felt my face flush instantly, she noticed and gave a smile, after that she opened my onesie and put her fingers in the crotch of my diaper and pulled back a little to check. - ‘’Looks like my baby didn't completely use her diaper during the night, too bad, I'll have to punish you again baby, but not now.'' Mom helped me out of the crib and held my hand as she led me to the bathroom. Getting there, she took off my wet onesie and my gloves, but she still kept the pacifier in my mouth. When she opened my diaper it fell to the floor with a loud thud and she giggled, then she rolled my diaper up and placed it on top of the lid of the dirty diaper bucket. She put me in the shower and gave me a bath, scrubbing my now hairless body and giving a special attention to my bumbum and penis (which she called "little clitty"). After the shower we went back to my room and she helped me onto the changing table and told me to lie down and not move while she went to get something. A few minutes later, she came back with a big bottle of milk in her hands and gave it to me, telling me to drink it all while she changed me. My face burned with embarrassment as she rubbed baby lotion on my bottom, still red from the spanking from the night before, and on my clitty, then she opened a fresh diaper and put it under my bottom and started sprinkling baby powder on me. As she ran her hands over me, she noticed my little cock trying to get hard inside the pink chastity cage and said how cute it was and how it felt like I was enjoying being her baby. The milk in the bottle was sweet and tasted great and before mommy even finished changing the diaper I was done. After the change she took the empty bottle and put it on the shelf below the changing table and helped me to a seat and told me to wait while she picked out an outfit for me to wear for the day, heading to the closet and bringing back a little pink dress with white lace all over and words embroidered on the front that said ''Messy Princess'', when I saw this, my face burned with embarrassment. So mommy dressed me and brought white socks with lace ankles and dressed me in them and also put on my feet a pair of pink Mary Jane shoes to match. Then mommy brought out a pink bonnet and put it on my freshly shaved head (mommy had all the hair off my body except my eyebrows and eyelashes). After I finished getting dressed, she took me to the room that had a playpen where she left me and told me that I should play with my new toys (wooden blocks, dolls and stuffed animals) while she got dressed for work. When she finished saying that, she noticed my surprised expression, because she had been working from home since I arrived, so I thought she would always be home with me. - ''Awn baby, don't be worried, mommy called a nanny to take care of you, she has a lot of experience with girls just like you, but we'll need to call her every day mommy goes to work until we find a special daycare for babies like you''. After saying that, mommy left me in the playpen still in shock and went to get ready for work. I wondered which would be worse: having a babysitter seeing me like this or being sent to daycare with other people like me. I've never seen mommy in underwear before, only in a bra a few times, but I've never seen her in panties or naked and it provoked my imagination many times, but soon I felt a pressure inside my chastity cage which made me push those thoughts away. As I lay in my playpen trying to distract myself from all the thoughts running through my mind, I felt my bladder fill quickly and release a large amount of pee in the front of my diaper, warming it up. I wondered how I could pee so much when I had wet my diaper from the night before until it leaked into my crib. But I didn't have time to think about it too much, as the doorbell rang next.

What has Jackie been up to since last we saw her? Well, let's find out! Part two coming next week! If you're unfamiliar with Jackie, this might feel like a weird place to jump in. I've written about her and some of the other characters in these stories before, so you might want to check out Baby's Unexpected Trip and Jackie's Play Date first. ----- Jackie was still tired. Strapped into her car seat, she couldn’t help but be reminded of just how much she had become the baby that everyone else in her life told her that she was. It was barely one in the afternoon, and she’d slept her normal 13 hours the night before. And despite having only woken up at 8, by 11:45 she’d already had breakfast, her daily morning breastfeeding, and lunch. She’d been put down for her nap a little earlier than normal, and being accustomed to her rigidly enforced habits, hadn’t been able to fall asleep as quickly as normal. Before she knew it, Mama was waking her from what felt like only minutes of sleep. After a quick brush of her hair, Mama brought her out to the car and had her strapped in in no time. The loud, childish songs that were playing over the car stereo while Mama drove were even more annoying for Jackie than normal. She often liked to tell herself that she would be fine without the embarrassing amounts of sleep that she got, but if Jackie ever had a day where she got less than an hour and a half for a nap, she’d find herself tired for the rest of the day and sometimes would be so grumpy that Mama would decide that she needed to go to bed even earlier than her normal 7pm bedtime. As usual, Mama hadn’t bothered to tell Jackie where they were headed, but the change in routine gave Jackie a pretty good idea of their destination. Though it was theoretically possible that they were heading to a birthday party for one of the other adult babies in the area, it was most likely that the change signaled that it was time for Jackie to get a haircut. Jackie had made this trip many times before. For almost the first year that she had been returned to infancy, Jackie hadn’t had a haircut. Her hair had been fairly short in college, but it had eventually grown extremely long and fairly unmanageable. Her Nanny, as her Mama was then known, had heard from one of her fellow care-givers that there was a salon in town that closed down its normal business one Saturday afternoon every couple of months and provided haircuts to several of the big babies in the area. For the remaining two years that she had lived as her biological parents’ overgrown infant and the three years since she’d been “adopted” by her Mama, Jackie had been a regular on those Saturday afternoons. As with almost every trip out of the house, Jackie had come to hate her haircuts. With the salon closed, it was only other adults in her situation and their caretakers who were around, but having more people around always increased the opportunities for humiliation. Not only did Jackie have to continue to play her babyish role in front of the other mommies (whose rules and admonishments for their own charges often gave Mama new and humiliating ideas to use on Jackie), but she had to endure the haircuts themselves. Over the course of the five years since she’d been subject to several particularly mortifying styles. At first, her mother had favored a relatively simple cut that lent itself to easy pigtails – a classic but basic look that Jackie could live with, especially when left down. Once Mama took over such decisions, though, things changed significantly. Within a few months, Jackie’s head had been completely shaved, and even applied with a cream that had left her without hair growing back in for the next few months. Though that had saved her from a few rounds of haircuts, Jackie had hated having no hair, especially since during that period Mama treated her as much like a newborn as possible by carrying her more and increasing the amount that she breastfed Jackie. After about six months, Jackie’s hair had finally begun to grow back and the trips to the salon resumed. At first, her trips had mostly involved styling, but eventually her hair was long enough to need trimming in order to maintain a style over the course of the next few months. Her hair was not nearly as thick as it had been before it was cut off, but it had still gotten long enough now to be tied into high ponytails that emerged from the top of her head, which Jackie found to be a particularly humiliating look. Though Jackie wished they wouldn’t, they soon arrived at the salon. Mama parked the car in the parking lot behind the building and came around to the back door of the car. She grabbed the large, pastel pink diaper bag with the embroidered inscription “OPEN IN CASE OF EMERGENCY” from the seat next to Jackie, and then unbuckled the straps that had tightly restrained her in the seat. As she climbed out of the car and Mama closed the door behind them, Jackie suddenly became highly self-conscious about her outfit. Though it hadn’t fully turned cold yet, the slight autumn chill had meant that Mama had begun “making sure that her little baby wasn’t cold” when they went out. As such, Jackie was wearing a rather heavy pink fleece jacket that fastened with four buttons stylized to look like small children’s blocks spelling the word “baby” from top to bottom. The jacket was paired with a matching wool hat designed to look like what a baby girl would wear home from the hospital, complete with a small ribbon bow that featured prominently on Jackie’s forehead. In practice, since the garage door hadn’t even been open when Jackie got into the car, the coat and hat only served to make Jackie much too warm and contributed to her inability to shake her post-nap grogginess. Peeking out from under the coat was the very bottom of the skirt of her short, royal purple baby dress. Of course, none of this did anything to hide the matching purple rhumba pants that theoretically concealed her obviously bulging diaper. Her legs were covered by a pair of opaque white tights that had been put on over her diaper but underneath her panties. On her feet, she wore black Mary-Janes with a modest heel, and the entire look was accompanied by her oversized and omnipresent pacifier. Immediately, though without great force, Mama grabbed Jackie by the wrist and led her across the parking lot to the salon’s entrance. Mama pressed the doorbell, and though there was little chance of being seen and she’d be happy for it as soon as she was inside, Jackie wished that the door wasn’t locked so that she wouldn’t have to stand exposed in her babyish attire as they waited. After what felt like minutes, but was really just about 15 seconds, the door was opened by the salon’s proprietor, Ms. Parker. “Oh, Baby Jackie!” she exclaimed. “Come in darling, you must be freezing out there. It’s so good to see you!” Jackie wasn’t freezing in the slightest, but she gladly stepped into the salon, followed by Mama. Ms. Parker closed the door behind them, and then planted a kiss on Jackie’s cheek. “Say hi to Ms. Parker,” Mama said as she pulled Jackie’s pacifier out of her mouth. “Hi Miff Pahkah,” Jackie lisped. Her job done, the pacifier was just as quickly replaced and Jackie automatically began sucking on its bulb. Mama went to work, first removing Jackie’s hat and then removing Jackie’s coat, all while Jackie stood there uselessly. “I just love your dress, princess!” Ms. Parker said, taking a small step back to survey it as Mama hung up the coat and diaper bag on a rack near the door. “Say thank you to Ms. Parker,” Mama said, again removing the pacifier, ostensibly so that Jackie could speak more clearly, though she was still mandated to lisp outlandishly. “Fank you Miff Pahkah,” Jackie said, following the time-honored strategy of exactly mimicking the words that Mama prompted her with. “And maybe a little curtsey so that she can see it better?” Mama prompted while returning the pacifier to its normal home. Jackie didn’t necessarily want to, but she obediently grabbed a hold of both sides of her dress, bent her knees as she raised her hands to more fully reveal her diapers (Jackie knew that nobody was actually paying attention to the skirt), and finished with a slight twirling flourish that guaranteed that she wouldn’t be required to repeat her humiliation. “Oh, very beautiful!” Ms. Parker exclaimed. “Now why don’t you go play with your friends?” Grateful to be out of the high-pressure interaction with a less familiar grown-up, Jackie continued the five or so wobbly paces down the entrance hall of the salon and stepped out into the main part of the shop. It featured a single room, with the cutting area in the front and chairs for waiting along the wall in the back. Jackie suspected that the salon must normally cater to families with young children, as there was a play area that took up much of the floor behind the chairs that was full of toys that the babies were to play with on these Saturdays. Jackie surveyed the scene. In the chair, apparently just about to get her haircut was Jackie’s frequent playdate companion, Baby Tory. Tory’s nanny and Jackie’s Mama were good friends, as they were similar ages and similarly eager tormentors of their charges. Though Jackie and Tory had little in common themselves except for their babied states, that friendship meant that the two of them saw each other at least monthly outside of haircuts. Ironically, since haircuts always happened on Saturdays, Tory never came with her nanny, but instead with her mommy, the wife of Tory’s ex-boyfriend who had been dominating Tory with her husband for nearly two decades. Mama and Tory’s mommy had much less in common, and so while they were cordial, there was much less chatter than during a regular playdate. On the floor in the center of the room was Stephanie, the first girl that Jackie had ever met who was in a similar situation to her. Hers was in fact very similar, as she too had been regressed by parents who were disappointed by the choices that she had made independently, though she continued to live with them and was accompanied to the salon by her mother. Over by the wall, Jackie could see Baby Kori, whom she had met a few times outside of the salon and often saw here. Kori was being fed a bottle across the lap of her slightly older sister, who Jackie had learned had regressed Kori after having spent more than a year supporting her and providing shelter without Kori showing any signs of seeking a job. Though Kori was only a few years younger than Jackie, Jackie had always felt like they had little in common. Once she had learned more about Kori’s background, Jackie had done her best to keep her distance when possible at the salon, as she felt that if anyone deserved this fate, it might well be Kori. Finally, sitting on a tiny chair at a tiny table and having a tea party with a few dolls that sat in the other seats was another baby that Jackie didn’t feel comfortable around, albeit for different reasons. Susie, as she was called, was the only baby that Jackie knew that wasn’t actually a girl, but in fact a sissy. His wife, who sat along the wall with the other dominant women, had regressed him several years prior, and in many ways, Susie stood out for her girlish looks and behavior even in a room full of women who dressed and acted like the most stereotypical of little girls. The sissy always wore short, lacy dresses that were filled out by layers of petticoats and complimented by higher heels than any of the other babies were ever permitted, and today’s pastel yellow dress was no exception. While all of the babies in the room lisped on the rare occasions they were allowed to speak, Susie’s was so high-pitched and ridiculous that Jackie could barely believe it could possibly come from an adult, let alone a man. Jackie didn’t really have a problem with Susie, but the presence was still somewhat off-putting. Except for her actual father and for Mama’s boyfriend of more than two years who she now was made to call Dada, her world was exclusively female. While part of her recognized that Susie was much too busy being thoroughly embarrassed about all of the women in the room seeing him this way, Jackie couldn’t help but be extra self-conscious about her babyish status and especially her diapered state when she knew that there was a man of approximately her age in the room. In addition to the people in the room, the other thing that Jackie quickly noticed as she stepped in was the smell. She’d recognized early on in her first visit to the salon that one of the reasons that the salon closed to other customers during this time was the unmistakable stench of a daycare that overtook the salon. Sure, there might have been some concern for anonymity (though Jackie assumed that was mostly the caregivers not wanting too many people aware of their likely criminal exploitation of their charges rather than a sudden concern that the babies might be even further humiliated), but most customers wouldn’t want to share a small shop with so many babies and so many diapers. The close concentration of high quantities of baby powder, stale urine, and often much worse meant that the room soon smelled much like any of the babies’ nurseries at home. The pungent aroma that had greeted Jackie as she entered the room let her know that one of her companions was either wearing a messy diaper currently or had recently been changed out of one. Upon reaching the carpeted play area, Jackie dutifully dropped to her knees and began to crawl over to Stephanie, who in her mind was easily the best choice to play with given the circumstances. Almost surely just because they had met first and had a similar backstory, Jackie had long ago decided that she liked Stephanie the best of her “friends.” She had no idea what she might be like if they were to meet outside of the confines of their second infanthood, but here they had built up a reasonable rapport. Had it been a playdate, the two girls would have been forced to endure an elaborate greeting ritual that involved sharing a dramatized, wet kiss on the lips. However, in this setting the mommies seemed to think that it was more hassle than it was worth to have each girl greet each other in such an involved manner, since it necessitated the removal and replacements of pacifiers several times over and could never be done efficiently so long as one girl was getting her haircut. Instead, Jackie and Stephanie simply exchanged a knowing glance from behind their binkies, and Jackie picked up a stuffed animal from the pile near Stephanie. Although Jackie and Stephanie weren’t allowed to actually speak unless prompted, and certainly weren’t permitted to converse with each other, now that they were playing together, they were expected to make noises that “showed that they were having fun.” This was quite a challenge, since they were expected to be fairly raucous without having the opportunity to coordinate any sort of premise with each other, and they weren’t, in fact, having much of any fun at all. By now, Jackie had learned that her playtime with the other babies was designed to make them resort to the most demonstratively babyish forms of play possible, and also to force them to really work at it, which would make it challenging for them to pay attention to the grown-up conversation. This was a shame, because Jackie was always desperate to overhear it. It often contained interesting details about her companions’ lives and backstories and it was almost the only time she ever heard anyone speak in anything but baby talk. As usual, the result of the play rules meant that Jackie and Stephanie started to make a range of noises, ranging from humming to animal noises, with occasional high-pitched squeals and obviously fake, childish giggles mixed in as well. While not remotely stimulating, the exercise did require some focus, which helped to make time pass faster than it did when Jackie was on her own in a playpen. Soon enough, they were approached by Mama, Stephanie’s Mommy, and Ms. Parker. “I’m sorry to break up your fun, babies, but it’s time for somebody’s haircut,” Ms. Parker said patronizingly. It turned out that it was Stephanie’s turn, and she was helped to her feet and escorted over to the chair by her Mommy and Ms. Parker. In the meantime, Mama put her hands in Jackie’s armpits and used her prodigious strength to lift her straight off of the ground and carry her towards one of the couches on the side of the room. “It’s time for my wittle gurl to have a nice big buh-buh before her turn,” she cooed right in Jackie’s ear. They sat down at the far side of the same couch that Kori had been fed on earlier. Kori had been released and was now making the required fool of herself while attempting to dance along to a video playing children’s songs on the television in the corner of the room. Her mommy/sister, however, remained on the coach, and quickly asked if she could feed Jackie her bottle, which was fairly common practice at these events. Though Jackie wished she wouldn’t since she somehow found it even more humiliating to obediently slurp down formula when someone unfamiliar was doing the feeding, Mama unsurprisingly agreed. From the arm of the couch, she picked up the bib that she had removed from Jackie’s diaper bag and fastened the Velcro together behind Jackie’s neck. The bib was a simple white number embroidered with a yellow duck, sized for an actual baby. It would be completely useless if anything were to actually spill, but that was virtually impossible during a bottle feeding. Instead, it was meant to be another ridiculous little reminder of Jackie’s infantile status, a function it performed quite effectively. Mama eased Jackie’s head back into her new tormenter’s lap, and then positioned Jackie’s feet across her own lap. She quickly handed over the bottle, and Jackie’s pacifier was quickly replaced by the rubber nipple of the bottle. Although Kori’s Mommy was cooing all sorts of comments about how sweet she was, Jackie knew that she had no obligation to in any way respond except by continuing to suck on the grossly sweet formula that made up almost all of her daily liquids. Despite the added humiliation of the close attention of a near-stranger who could have been a social peer had her life taken a more normal path, Jackie was quickly settling into a rhythm when she was interrupted by the sound of the doorbell ringing to announce the arrival of another customer. Turning her attention away from Stephanie, whose hair she had been washing, Ms. Parker disappeared down the hallway to answer the door. “Oh, hi, you must be Julia! I’m Ms. Parker. It’s so nice to meet you!” Jackie heard from across the short distance to the door. “I am. We’re so excited to meet you too!” “And look at this!” Ms. Parker continued, turning her tone towards a more syrupy coo that told Jackie that she had turned her attention to Julia’s charge. “How precious, you must be so proud! Oh, please do come in. This is exciting!” As she heard the sounds of coats being taken off and hung up, Jackie racked her mind to think if she knew a caretaker named Julia. She didn’t think so, which might mean that she was about to meet a new entrant to the bizarre social circle she inhabited, though she knew that she didn’t know most of the dominant women in the salon’s first names, so it was possible that she was mistaken. “All right, come right through then and I can introduce everybody,” said Ms. Parker, confirming Jackie’s suspicions as she reemerged from the hallway. She was followed by an average height woman of seemingly no more than 25 dressed in a chic sweater and flattering jeans, who Jackie quickly surmised must be Julia. Somewhat hiding behind her, each being gently pulled along by one of Julia’s hands, came not one but two girls who would clearly be joining Jackie on the list for Ms. Parker’s haircuts today. Jackie was stunned, as she’d never seen anyone with two babies before. Furthermore, a quick doubletake confirmed that the two girls were quite clearly identical twins. They were both just slightly smaller than Julia, and wore matching baby-blue dresses with pink puffy sleeves that were so short that they didn’t even make an effort to conceal the thick diapers they wore underneath. They even seemed to be nervously sucking on their pacifiers in almost perfect unison. From across the room, the only difference that Jackie could spot between the two of them was that one of the two women wore a childish-looking pair of pastel-purple-rimmed glasses. Jackie’s gawking was curtailed at least temporarily when Ms. Parker addressed the room in a deliberate, sing-song voice that kept up the premise that the big babies would only understand what she was saying if she used that preposterous tone. “Everyone, we have some new friends today! This,” she said, gesturing towards the girl with glasses, “is Baby Lauren. And here is her sister, Baby Katie. And this is their mommy, Julia.” “Say hi to your new friends, girls,” Julia gently commanded, ushering them forward from behind her as she spoke. Still behind their pacifiers, both girls gave a muffled “hi” and a weak wave from the hand that Julia wasn’t holding. Katie, in particular, seemed unable to pick her eyes up to look at the crowd. “Babies, all the other little girls here are going to be your friends,” continued Ms. Parker, beginning a round of introductions. “Right here just getting her hair cut now is Baby Stephanie. Over there by the TV is Baby Kori.” Jackie’s eyes followed the direction of the point, seeing that Kori had paused her arrhythmic shaking and twisting, leaving her in an exaggeratedly bow-legged stance in front of the television as she looked back over her shoulder to take in the show-stopping arrival of the twins. “This is Baby Susie and her mommy,” Ms. Parker said, as Jackie noticed slight looks of surprise register on the twins’ faces at the sight of the obviously sissified man. Susie had abandoned her tea party and was now being read a children’s story by his wife while sitting on the floor between her legs with his head resting on her thigh docilely. Jackie had reason to believe that Susie in fact quite despised this role, but she was always amazed at just how devoted of a mama’s girl the sissy could play. “Over in the corner, that’s Baby Jackie having a nice bot-bot from Kori’s mummy,” Ms. Parker said, turning the room’s attention to where Jackie wanted it least. “And her Mama is on the other side of the couch.” Nothing was expected of Jackie, but she still froze. Even as she had followed the conversation around the room, she had continued to make steady progress on her bottle, but now it simply sat in her mouth as she felt the focus of the newcomers turn to her. It truly didn’t matter, but she suddenly wished that her head had been on the other side of the couch so that her exposed diaper bulge would be pointed towards the back wall of the room as opposed to being clear for all to see. She knew that two of the three women might be dressed even more ridiculously than she was, and that the third was the one who dressed them like that, but she still felt an instinctive need to preserve the modesty that she had functionally lost long ago. Perhaps fortunately for Jackie, she could see as she turned a blushing glance towards the new entrants that they were not really paying her much attention already. They were looking in her general direction, but their attention was focused squarely on the floor near the sofa adjacent to the one Jackie occupied, and Jackie could suddenly see why. As Jackie had been doing her best to zone out the annoying cooing from Kori’s mommy by focusing intently on the cartoon images on the side of her bottle, it seemed she had missed the early stages of Tory getting a diaper change before the doorbell had rung. Though it had perhaps just begun, her mommy had clearly not allowed the new company to be a deterrent. As the room’s attention turned to them, she was holding the middle-aged woman’s ankles high in the air with one hand and grasping for baby wipes with the other. One look at Tory’s filthy bottom and the diaper underneath her confirmed for Jackie that Tory had been the source of the smell that Jackie had noted when she walked into the salon. Jackie’s eyes lingered for a moment longer and she saw the mortified big baby twitch as the first cold wipe broke through the shameful brown mush and revealed her clean-shaven skin. Jackie had seen Tory’s diapers changed many times before, but she’d never seen her look remotely so embarrassed. The silent tears that Jackie could see welling in Tory’s eyes betrayed just how much she wished not to meet new people with a dirty backside being helplessly wiped. Jackie turned her glance back to the entrance, and observed that Lauren, Katie, and even Julia all had looks that could best be described as awe on their faces. She wondered if they were surprised only because it was an odd way to meet someone in their 40s, even in the circumstances, or if part of the look had to do with how Tory put up no discernable resistance even in the face of such extreme humiliation. After a rather lengthy pause, Ms. Parker offered a narration. “THAT,” she said without needing to gesture, “is Baby Tory and her Mommy.” “Nice to meet you, everyone,” offered Tory’s mommy, looking up between wipes of her charge’s dirty anus. “Sorry about my little poo-poo princess here. Babies like her never do seem to pick a good time to make stinkies, do they?” Perhaps sensing a moment to inflict maximum embarrassment, she quickly moved herself closer to Tory’s face and cooed rhetorically, “You never do make stinkies at a good time, do you Baby Tory? I don’t think so. You’re just a big poopy princess with bad timing!” With that, she planted a patronizing kiss on her crying forehead and returned to the task of cleaning up after the shameful evidence that her accusations carried more truth than Tory would have liked. Jackie felt bad for Tory, but was also glad that attention had focused on her so briefly and that it hadn’t been her being so singularly humiliated. She realized that she had been gawking like everyone else when Kori’s mommy gently pushed on the bottle to ease her head back into the normal lying position. She once again began suckling as she heard Ms. Parker dismiss Lauren and Katie to go play. She saw Lauren dash off to the tea set that Susie had vacated with surprising energy, and noted that Katie looked decidedly less enthusiastic as she followed. “Kori, keep dancing over there,” Kori’s mommy instructed to what in reality was her sister while continuing to firmly hold Jackie’s bottle in place. “Yeff mummy,” came the hastily squealed response, and Kori furiously redoubled her remarkably childish efforts. Jackie looked up and realized that both caretakers were glowing. Instantly, she realized that neither her Mama nor Kori’s had felt any sympathy for Tory, but instead had shared her Mommy’s thrill in the utter humiliation that was inflicted. Jackie could tell that all of these women must have shared a set of instincts that allowed them to treat the babies like this in the first place, and that each of them was feeling a major rush right now. It didn’t actually surprise her in the slightest to see Mama react this way, but it still scared her. She didn’t think Mama could recreate that particular scenario, but thrills like these often turned into Mama’s most innovative ways to torture Jackie within her humiliating role in their strange family. Jackie tried not to imagine finding herself at the center of that scene as she finished her bottle. Once she was done, she was sat up in Kori’s mommy’s lap, with the slight warm squish that accompanied the position change reminding her that she’d been uselessly trickling pee into her diaper since she was changed a few hours ago. Kori’s mommy began to steadily apply firm pats to Jackie’s back, beginning the embarrassing process of producing a few pre-requisite burps before the feeding could really end. She held the bib up to Jackie’s chin with her other hand. For a second Jackie was a bit confused, but then she realized that it was probably a stand-in for a burp rag, which wasn’t really necessary for adult babies but was still used occasionally by most of the dominants in the room. Jackie took in the scene in front of her. Tory was now secured in a fresh diaper and was herself in the midst of bottle feeding, which was surely a welcome respite from the attention of a few minutes earlier. Jackie’s focus settled onto the mysterious new twins. What caught her eye first was that they were playing differently than the other babies in the room. The most obvious difference was that they were standing up. Though standing could occasionally be a part of specific activities like Kori’s dancing, in general all of the other babies in the room were expected to be crawling and doing all of their playing on the floor. Beyond that, though, Jackie was struck by the energy that Lauren and Katie were bringing to their play. Lauren seemed to be completely over the embarrassment she felt upon walking in, and was constantly jumping around from toy to toy, picking it up and playing with it for a few minutes before bounding off the next item that caught her eye. Katie seemed mostly concerned with not losing Lauren, and would quickly follow her sister everywhere she went. It was like nothing Jackie had ever seen before. She was expected to show signs of enthusiasm when playing with the other babies, but nobody cared that the enthusiasm was obviously faked so long as it existed. Yet, with these twins, it almost seemed like they were actually enjoying themselves. Jackie’s observation time was cut short after a few more minutes when Ms. Parker, now finished with Stephanie’s haircut, came over to announce to Jackie that she would be next. “Oh, yay, how exciting!” Mama said, choosing different words than Jackie would have. She sprung into action, removing the bib from Jackie’s neck and picking her up from Kori’s mommy’s lap. Though she was carried some at home, Jackie always noticed that Mama loved to show off by carrying Jackie and any of the other babies she could as much as possible when she was in a more public setting. Here, Mama effortlessly brought her across the room and deposited her into the chair. “Still want what you mentioned in your email?” Ms. Parker asked. She and Mama were always careful not to ever expressly say what the haircut would be, so that Jackie never knew what she was getting until it was happening. Jackie wouldn’t have had any say in the decision no matter what, but not letting her know what was even happening to her was yet another way that Mama accentuated her helplessness to her. “Yes, please,” said Mama. “Alright then! Baby Jackie, this won’t hurt a bit.” Jackie knew that it wouldn’t physically hurt in the slightest, but her pride wasn’t as certain to be left unscathed. As was usually the case, she could only hope that the haircut would simply tidy up her current style. She wouldn’t have chosen to wear her hair that way, but at least she was used to it. Ms. Parker busied herself fastening the Hello Kitty smock around Jackie’s neck. She’d seen it before, but it always amazed her. They could easily have used a monotone smock like one would expect to find at most salons and Jackie very much doubted that she or any of the other babies who came into the shop would have felt that the smock made them feel particularly adult, especially given that they were all still sucking on their pacifiers during the haircuts. The more childish smock didn’t actually make Jackie feel any more babyish, but it was yet another illustration to her of the almost absurd lengths that Mama and the other caregivers went to ensure that she and the others never even came close to the trappings of adulthood. As Ms. Parker began using a spray bottle to moisten her hair, the new woman, Julia, came over and approached Mama, who had taken up one of the two seats closest to the chair to watch proceedings. “Mind if I sit?” she asked. “Oh, of course not. Nice to meet you,” Mama said, extending a hand for a handshake. “Have you and Jackie been coming here long?” “Well, Jackie has been coming here for about 5 years now, but I’ve only been bringing her for the last three or so.” “Oh, wow,” said Julia, sounding genuinely surprised. “That’s longer than I would have expected that Ms. Parker had even been doing this.” “Oh, you flatter me!” chimed Ms. Parker as she continued to run a comb through Jackie’s light brown hair. “I did my first one of these on Baby Tory on the second day I had the shop almost 20 years ago. I knew her mommy a little from a couple of kinky parties we had seen each other at along the way, and when I opened the shop she asked if she could bring Tory by. Back then it was just her so we did it after hours, but it just keeps growing!” “She’s been a baby for 20 years?” Julia asked. “Absolutely,” said Ms. Parker. “Wouldn’t know how to be a grown-up if she tried anymore.” “Wow! That’s crazy. I never knew things like this could last so long.” “Tell me about it,” said Mama, in a juicy tone that told Jackie that she was clearly turning to gossip mode. “When I first met Baby Jackie almost six years ago, I never would have guessed. Now I can’t imagine how boring life without having her would be.” Jackie was glad someone was entertained. She found her life to be incredibly boring, and the times when it wasn’t boring were usually much worse. “Wait, I thought you said you’ve only had her for three years?” Julia asked. “And who had her before if you knew her six years ago?” “Oh right, I should have explained,” said Mama. “Jackie calls me Mama now, but she used to call me Nanny. Right after she finished college, her parents decided that she wasn’t really turning out right and that they were better off just keeping her as the family baby. So they basically made her what you see here today. For a little while, her Mommy stayed home with her, but eventually she wanted to go back to work, so they hired me to be her Nanny. I didn’t exactly know what I was getting into in terms of a time commitment, but the pay was great and I loved getting to come up with ways to baby her as much as possible. So then, about three years ago, her parents came to me with a proposition. They definitely still wanted Jackie to be a baby, but they felt like having Jackie live at their house didn’t make sense anymore. She was basically always asleep when they were home except on the weekends, but having her there meant they couldn’t really travel without it being a major hassle. So we came to an agreement. They furnished my house with all of the stuff they already had, but kept all of Jackie’s stuff there too. They still pay me, actually more since it is 24/7 now, and Jackie usually spends a day or two on the weekends over there for a while so I still get some alone time. Plus, now we can coordinate it so that she goes over there for longer and I actually get to take some time off too. And I still love to find new ways to keep a big baby in line, so it’s great for me.” Jackie could see Julia looking at her now in the mirror. Though the story hadn’t really been about her as much as Mama, she still was blushing at her embarrassing role in it. Julia was nodding, seemingly taking it all in. “Seems like a good job,” she finally responded. “Best I’ve ever had,” said Mama. “I have to say, I was a little surprised when Ms. Parker said that you were their mommy, not their babysitter or something. How did you get into this?” As the conversation was continuing, Jackie was annoyed by a tugging at the back of her hair. She couldn’t see to be sure, but from the weight it felt like Ms. Parker was pulling her hair into tight curlers. Jackie was bemused by the thought of what that might wind up looking like, but the rare chance to overhear adult conversation kept her attention. “Well, it was really kind of an accident,” Julia started.... To be continued