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Hello all, I have been reading and commenting on stories for a very long time on this site (despite what this current username suggests). I thought I would try to start an ai-assisted story about a weekend that my wife and I are talking about planning and expressing my current considerations in story form. I kept the sexual parts light in here, but will consider going much deeper in those areas in a subsequent version as I usually love that detail myself. Any feedback or thoughts are welcome as long as they are constructive, this is a partial representation of my own dreams, not necessarily yours. I know we are all vastly different here even though we share a lot in common. It's a relatively short read on purpose, to explore topics and give an opportunity for comments before I go deeper. Enjoy. _____ # A Weekend Away I put the diaper on just before we left. The house was quiet in the particular way it became quiet when all six kids were with their other parents. No backpacks by the door, no half-finished breakfast abandoned on the counter, no last-minute hunt for a missing shoe. Just Taylor downstairs, checking the weather, and me in our bedroom with an overnight bag open on the bed. I had packed carefully: quiet diapers for wearing under clothes, a few more playful ones for the cabin, wipes, powder, disposal bags, and a spare outfit. I’d also brought the vibrator, with no expectation that Taylor would want it involved. It was there because I liked knowing I had options, not because the weekend had to go a certain way. I pulled on the diaper, then the black onesie I’d brought to hold everything comfortably in place. My reflection looked like me—forty years old, husband, father, businessman, man about to take a winter weekend away with his wife. The private knowledge beneath my clothes was familiar. Knowing Taylor knew, and had helped make room for it, still felt almost too good to trust. She appeared in the doorway with two travel mugs. “Ready?” “Almost.” Her eyes flicked to the bag and then back to me. “You’re wearing one already?” I nodded. “I thought it might help me settle in.” “Does it?” “Yes. I’m also trying not to turn this into a test.” Taylor set down the coffees and came over to straighten my collar. “It’s a weekend, Thomas. Not an exam.” “I know. I just don’t want to make you feel like you have to do anything.” “I’ll tell you what I’m comfortable with. You tell me what you’re comfortable with. We’ll figure it out together.” I’d heard her say some version of that before, but this time I let myself believe it. I kissed her, took my coffee, and followed her out to the car. The drive north was long enough for my nerves to rise and fall. We stopped for sandwiches, argued amiably over the music, and watched the landscape grow more wintry as we went. Sometimes Taylor rested her hand on my knee. Each time, I felt my body loosen a little. The cabin was tucked among evergreens in Vermont, with a stone fireplace, a small kitchen, and a window looking out over a snowy slope. There was a village nearby with a bookstore and a few restaurants, and trails close enough for a winter walk without turning the day into an expedition. Taylor had chosen it because it offered us choices. Outside if we wanted to explore; inside if we wanted a fire, books, and quiet. I put my supplies in the bathroom cabinet. I’d sorted them by type, making sure the wipes and bags were easy to reach. Taylor watched me arrange things. “You’ve planned for everything,” she said. “I didn’t want the practical details to become your responsibility.” “Thank you.” She leaned against the doorframe. “But you don’t have to hide the supplies from me, either.” “I’m not trying to hide them. I just want to handle my own changes unless you offer.” “Fair.” She smiled. “And if I do offer, you can say yes or no.” “I’d probably say yes.” “Then I’ll keep that in mind.” Friday remained close to the plan we’d agreed on. We took a short walk before dark, had dinner in town, and came back to the cabin for wine, cards, and guitar. I changed into one of the playful diapers after we returned. Taylor read beside the fire while I tried to play a song I’d written years ago. I made a mistake in the chorus. “You’ve played that song a hundred times,” she said. “I’m distracted.” “By me?” “By the fact that you know what I’m wearing.” She looked up from her book. “Is that a bad distraction?” “No.” “Then I’ll take it.” She went back to reading, and I started the song over. That was how the first evening felt: ordinary and extraordinary at once. Nothing had to happen just because we’d set aside the time. I could wear what I wanted, enjoy her company, and let the private part of the weekend be present without taking over the whole thing. Before bed, I changed again. The first changes were practical. I gathered what I needed, took care of things privately, and washed up. The routine was familiar and reassuring, but I kept wondering if Taylor was waiting for me to invite her into it. I didn’t want to ask out of habit or fear. I wanted to know she would offer because she wanted to. She came to the bedroom as I was putting the supplies away. “Everything okay?” she asked. “Fine. Just changing.” “Do you want any help?” I paused, pleasantly surprised. “Not this time. But thank you.” “Good.” She came close and kissed me. “You can ask me, too, you know. You don’t always have to wait for me to guess.” “I know.” “And I can offer without it meaning you owe me anything.” “I know that, too.” She settled against me in bed, and I let the warmth of her body and the weight of the blankets quiet my mind. We kissed, slowly, and then lay together in the dark. The weekend had only just begun. I didn’t need it to prove anything. Saturday morning, Taylor was awake before me, reading by the window with tea. I sat up and looked at her. “Morning,” she said. “How long have you been awake?” “Long enough to finish a chapter and reconsider the ending.” “Did you reach a verdict?” “I have concerns.” She came back to bed and kissed me. We took our time waking up, talking about the day, and easing into the morning. When we dressed, I chose ordinary clothes and no diaper. We had planned to keep wearing one outside the cabin to a minimum, and that was still what I wanted. The trail was snowy and quiet. We walked shoulder to shoulder, stopping for photographs and to look at tracks in the soft snow. Taylor teased me for taking pictures of the same mountain from four different angles. I told her each angle revealed something new. She said that sounded like a thing a photographer would say, which I wasn’t, and I conceded the point. At lunch, she disappeared into the village bookstore. When she came back, she had a paper bag tucked under her arm. “Book?” I asked. “Partly.” “Partly?” “You’ll find out later.” I spent the afternoon trying not to guess. Back at the cabin, I changed into a diaper and a soft shirt while Taylor made lunch. When I came out, she looked up from the counter. “Comfortable?” “Very.” “Good.” She slid a plate toward me. “I like seeing you relax.” “I’m trying.” “I can tell.” Later, after we’d eaten and played cards by the fire, she brought out the paper bag. Inside was a set of patterned ABDL diapers and a soft onesie, dark green with little stars. I looked up at her. “You bought these before we left?” “I did.” She sat down next to me. “I wasn’t sure if you’d want to use them, so I didn’t want to make a big deal of it.” I touched the fabric of the onesie. “You thought of me when you saw them.” “I did.” That small fact went straight through me. I had spent years imagining what it would feel like for her to share this part of my life, and the reality wasn’t some grand declaration. It was Taylor choosing something she thought I might like and bringing it along because she wanted to surprise me. “I love them,” I said. “Then maybe we should try them tonight.” “I’d like that.” She squeezed my hand. “Good. We can see how they feel.” The first time Taylor helped me change was later that evening. She asked what I wanted and listened carefully while I told her. The moment began with the same practical steps I would have taken alone: supplies within reach, a clean diaper ready, time to wash and dry properly. Taylor moved with care, asking before each new thing rather than assuming. “Are you comfortable?” she asked. “Yes.” “Still okay?” “Very.” Her tone was calm, but there was tenderness in it. She wasn’t making the change a spectacle. She was simply there with me, focused and kind. When she finished, she adjusted the waistband of the onesie and smoothed her hands over it. “Good fit?” “Perfect.” She looked pleased. “I’m glad.” Then she leaned in and kissed me. The practical part faded into something more intimate, not because she had turned it into a performance, but because we were close and I could feel the care behind each touch. I put my arms around her. “I love that you did that,” I whispered. “I like being trusted with it.” We kissed again, and the evening unfolded into a more private kind of closeness. Taylor’s touch was curious and affectionate, and mine answered hers. When she rested her hand over the front of the diaper, I shivered. She noticed. “Is that good?” “Yes.” “Tell me what you like.” I told her. She listened, and I listened when she told me what she wanted, too. We moved at a pace that left room for laughter, pauses, and small questions. Nothing felt like a script we had to follow. When things grew more sexual, we let the details belong to us rather than trying to make the evening into a performance. Afterward, Taylor tucked herself against my side. “I like how you look when you stop worrying,” she said. “I’m still worried.” “Less, though.” “Less,” I admitted. She kissed my shoulder. “That counts.” Sunday morning, I woke with my head against Taylor’s chest. We’d settled together that way the night before, and I’d fallen asleep while she ran her fingers through my hair. There was something soothing about the closeness, something that let my thoughts drift until they were only warmth, her heartbeat, and the comfortable feeling of being held. When I stirred, Taylor was awake. She brushed my hair back from my forehead. “Good morning,” she whispered. “Did I fall asleep?” “You did.” “Sorry.” “Don’t be. It was sweet.” She kissed my temple. “Did you sleep well?” “Better than I have in weeks.” We stayed close for a little while. Taylor stroked my hair, and I rested against her, not asking the moment to become more than it was. It felt intimate precisely because it was gentle. When we finally got up, she had already made coffee. “I made a plan,” she said, handing me a mug. “A plan?” “Breakfast here. Longer walk. Lunch back at the cabin. Then we can decide whether we feel like going into town. Dinner out tonight.” “That sounds perfect.” She sat across from me. “I also want to ask about something.” My stomach tightened. “Okay.” “I’m curious about wearing a diaper outside again today. For the full day, if you want to. We can bring everything we need and take breaks back here.” My excitement came quickly, followed by the old caution. “You want to?” “I do. I’m not sure exactly what it’ll feel like, but I want to try. And I want to make sure you’re not agreeing just because I suggested it.” “I’m agreeing because I want it. I’m excited.” “Then we’ll do it.” She reached across the table. “We’ll check in. Either of us can change the plan.” I packed the backpack carefully, this time with supplies for a change away from the cabin as well as a spare diaper and clothes. Taylor checked the weather and chose the shorter of the two trails we’d discussed. We dressed warmly. Before we left, she helped me into one of the new diapers and the onesie, then checked that my clothes sat comfortably over it. “Ready?” she asked. “Yes.” “Do you want to go?” “Yes.” “Then let’s go.” The trail was peaceful, the snow bright beneath the trees. We walked slowly, stopping to drink water and look at the view. The diaper made me more aware of my body, but the experience wasn’t only about that. Taylor and I were outside together, making a day of it, and she had chosen to include this in the day because she wanted to—not because she was humoring me. At one point, she took my hand. “How are you feeling?” “Good. A little nervous, but good.” “Do you want to keep going?” “Yes.” “Me too.” We walked a little farther, then turned back. A few minutes later, as we were heading toward the cabin, I felt the beginning of a need I couldn’t ignore. I stopped. “Everything okay?” Taylor asked. “I think I might need to use the diaper.” Her expression stayed gentle. “Okay. Do you want to go back?” I didn’t answer right away. This was the part I had wondered about, the thing I’d imagined in private and had never tried. The excitement I felt was braided with nervousness, and I wasn’t sure which strand was stronger. “I think I do,” I said. “But I’m not sure yet.” “Then we don’t have to decide this second.” She gave my hand a squeeze. “We can walk back, and you can see how you feel. No pressure.” By the time we reached the cabin, I knew I wanted to try. I told her so while we were inside, away from the trail and the cold. “Are you sure?” she asked. “Not because you think you’re supposed to.” “I’m sure. I want to know what it feels like. But I’m nervous.” “Then I’ll stay with you. And afterward we’ll take care of everything together.” That promise helped. I took a breath, and she sat beside me, one hand resting on my arm. The moment itself was quiet and unfamiliar. I concentrated on relaxing, on staying present instead of trying to judge the experience as it happened. There was no dramatic transformation, no sudden answer to every question I’d ever had. There was just my body doing something new, and Taylor beside me. When it was over, I looked at her. “That was strange,” I said. “Strange bad?” “Strange new. I’m not sure yet.” “That’s okay.” She smiled. “We don’t need to decide what it means right now.” The cleanup was private, calm, and more practical than dramatic. Taylor offered to help, and I accepted. She got the supplies while I changed, then helped me with the fresh diaper and clean clothes. She didn’t make a face or turn it into a joke. When she finished, she washed her hands and came back to kiss me. “There,” she said. “All taken care of.” I laughed, a little breathlessly. “It wasn’t as overwhelming as I thought it might be.” “How do you feel?” “Relieved. A little embarrassed, but not in a bad way. And…” I searched for the word. “Lighter.” “Lighter is good.” “It was also kind of funny.” She smiled. “It can be both.” We sat by the fire afterward with tea. Taylor read aloud from her book while I listened, my shoulder against hers. The experiment didn’t need to become the whole story of the day. It could be a new thing we’d tried, handled together, and then set down while we enjoyed the rest of our weekend. That evening, we went into town for dinner. I changed before we left. On the way back, Taylor suggested we stop at the bookstore again, and we spent half an hour browsing without buying anything. It felt ordinary and lovely. At the cabin, she asked if I wanted to change into one of the new diapers. I said yes. This time, when she helped, the change felt different. The practical steps were still there—clean supplies, a comfortable surface, checking that everything was in place—but now there was a shared ease between us. Taylor moved with more confidence. She looked at me as she adjusted the waistband, and I could see her enjoying my response without pretending the experience was hers in exactly the same way it was mine. “Still comfortable?” she asked. “Yes.” “Good.” She ran her hands over the fabric, then patted my backside. “All set.” I laughed. “You’re getting very good at that.” “I’ve had an excellent teacher.” The kiss that followed was slow and unhurried. She touched me over the diaper, and I put my hands on her waist, drawing her close. Her voice was soft near my ear as she told me she liked seeing me so relaxed. I told her how much I loved her taking the lead. We kept checking in, but less because we were uncertain and more because asking had become part of our closeness. The rest of the night was ours: affectionate, sensual, and full of the kind of trust that let us follow what felt good rather than rush toward an outcome. When we were done, we stayed wrapped around each other beneath the blankets. On Monday morning, we packed the car. The weekend had gone by faster than I wanted, but I was no longer afraid that going home meant losing everything we’d found. At the cabin door, Taylor asked, “Do you want to change for the drive, or wear one home?” I thought about it, then answered honestly. “I’d like to wear one. If you’re still comfortable.” “I am.” She smiled. “Let’s get you ready.” She helped me change before we left. The routine was familiar now, but it still carried something special: her attention, my trust, the quiet sense that I didn’t have to handle every part of this alone. I packed the supplies within reach, and Taylor kissed me at the car. “Are you happy with the weekend?” she asked. “Very.” “Anything you’d want different next time?” “Maybe more time. And more of this, if it still feels good to you.” “It does.” She squeezed my hand. “We’ll keep talking and figure it out together.” The road home stretched ahead of us. We put on our music, shared the last of the snacks, and talked about the kids’ return, our work, and the ordinary responsibilities waiting for us. Under my clothes was the familiar comfort I’d brought with me. Beside me was Taylor, who had made it feel less like a secret I carried alone and more like something we could choose to share. I still didn’t know exactly what it would become in our everyday life. For once, I didn’t need to know yet.

Microfiction (noun) A complete story told in 300 words or less. Multi-chapter novellas like Weekend in the Mechanical Nursery or Bella's New Punishment both started as 2,000 word shorts, and I wanted the chance to push myself to be more concise with microfiction. Follow along as I aim to tell complete and compelling stories of discipline, humiliation, and regression in less than 300 words. If you want to support my writing and get access to exclusive stories and works in progress, come and hang out with us on Ream. -------------------------------------------- She sat in her playpen in his office that normally smelled of mahogany and bourbon, but now carried the sweet, lingering scent of baby powder. Jess needed a change, but would need to wait on her friend Morgan for that. Mr. Franklin was old-fashioned and thought it improper to have an intimate connection with an employee. But he was into weird shit. That was undeniable. After the audit exposed her embezzlement, Jess tried to blackmail her boss with the weird diaper shit she found on his computer, but the older man surprised her with a proposal. That’s how Jess found herself doing office work in pull-ups and sucking on a pacifier. For weeks, they were pleased with the arrangement. Then both wanted more. For an extra $3,000, Jess agreed to ask permission before going to the potty and stand in the corner for any sub-par work. For $3,000 more, she stopped wearing pants altogether and occasionally had ‘accidents’ earning herself a few sad faces on her new potty-training chart. It was weird, but had effectively doubled her salary. Diapers were the next obvious step, but Jess struggled with diapering herself and recommended her friend for the new part-time assistant role. That role quickly grew to full-time nanny status until the blonde’s job description consisted only of filling diapers and looking cute, for which Jess had received a bonus in her latest performance review. Mr. Franklin looked at his pigtailed and pacified manager and she smiled and waved from her playpen. Today was Morgan’s quarterly evaluation and she was late. Again. Overhearing the woman’s financial troubles, Mr. Franklin wondered what it might be like to have two adorable playthings at his office and made a note to hire a contractor for the new office nursery and find a new assistant. -------------------------------------------- Get instant access to most of my stories with new exclusive chapters every week and at least three new stories each month on Ream.

I've been playing with this story idea for a while. I still don't have a title... I had been calling it "Lockdown", but that title was recently taken, so now I need another one. Comments and feedback are, of course, strongly encouraged... ======================== It was a great day. My contract was finally ending, and my manager had confirmed that the customer had signed off on a very significant bonus. What had started as a lucrative 6 month project had turned into 12, and then 18 months of no vacations, rarely a full weekend off, and lots and lots of overtime. On the bright side, my bank account was in great shape, my loans were paid off, and I was looking at getting a new car for the first time ever. But, I really, really needed a break. A quick call to my wife let her know that I was grabbing dinner for tonight, and with a smile and a hop in my step I entered the grocery store. A bouquet of roses. Steaks. A bagged salad. A good bottle of wine. A second good bottle of wine. Some chocolates. And, as an impromptu purchase, a balloon with “I Love You” on it. I guess it didn’t take a genius to figure out what was on my mind as I made my way through the checkout line, paid, and drove the short distance home. “Karen! I’m free! I’m free! No more work for me! Yipee!” I shouted as I came in the door. Placing the groceries on the table, I gave my wife a hug and kiss. She still smelled of sawdust, not yet having cleaned up after coming in from the barn housing her workshop in our backyard. I got the meal ready while she showered, and when she returned wearing some clothing that left little of her beautiful body to the imagination, the evening progressed much as I had hoped for. Soon, we were laying in bed next to each other, cuddling. “So, you think that they’re actually going to lock down the whole state like China did? Can they even do that?” The worry in my voice must have come through. “Well, it’s probably the best thing. If they can do it. I don’t know if it’s even legal. But we’ll be OK.” She hugged me close, my head landing on her oh-so-comfortable chest. “At least my contract is done. We can just hang here. It can’t be more than 2 weeks or so, right? That’s what people are saying.” “Well… I don’t know. The way the government has been handling this, I tend to doubt there’s a real plan to begin with. At least I can just work here, and you were going to take some time anyway. So, we’re set, right?” “I guess so.” I paused. “This is going to suck, isn’t it?” She hugged me closer. “I’m sure we can find a way of making it fun. Wouldn’t want you to get bored.” I kissed her, and snuggled closer. “Yeah, that would be terrible.” And we both fell asleep. ==== The next morning, Karen was gently trying to wake me. I quickly realized why as I felt the wetness around me. Crap. “Oh. I’m so sorry honey.” She gave me a kiss on my forehead while allowing me to wake up a little more. “It’s ok. Not a big deal. You didn’t get me this time.” “Oh. Good. I. Uh. OK, let me clean up and I’ll take care of it.” Well, today was off to a pretty bad start. Sigh. She kissed me again. “Go shower, babe. I’ll throw this in the wash.” I moved the wet covers to see my sopping wet boxers. The waterproof mattress cover ensured that there was a puddle of my pee right under me. “Um, could I get a” “Towel? Yeah, just a second.” She disappeared into the bathroom, returning with a bath towel. “Just leave the underwear there. I’ll throw them in with the sheets.“ I stripped down, wrapped the towel around myself, and did the walk of shame to the bathroom for a shower. A few minutes later I was downstairs, refreshed, making coffee and a bagel. I could hear the washing machine start, and Karen joined me in the kitchen. I gave her the first brewed cup, and then poured another for myself. I was feeling down, as I always am after waking up after one of my accidents. Not that I have many accidents, of course. They’re rare. I mean, there was that one other this week, but it had been… a month since the last time, and like three months before that. So it’s not like I’m a regular bed wetter, or anything. I just have some occasional accidents. But it still makes me not feel great about myself. She put her non-coffee-holding arm around me in a half hug. Neither of us were the type to put coffee down, even for a hug. “It’s not a big deal.” She always says that, of course. “It is the second time this week, though. Are you OK?” I nodded. “Yeah. I guess the wine just got to me, or something. Sorry.” “It’s OK.” She paused. “The governor is supposed to make some kind of announcement later today. Maybe you should go get some groceries? A week or so worth? Just in case, you know. Maybe go to Costco?” “Probably a good idea. I should go do that now before the crowds get worse…”, and so after a second cup of coffee I gave her a kiss, collected my wallet and jacket, and headed out the door. Everyone else had the same idea, of course. Costco was mobbed, with everyone grabbing everything as though they wouldn’t be able to shop for weeks. There was enough meat, veggies, bread, and of course alcohol left that I got most of what we’d need to avoid shopping for a few weeks, if it came to it. We had a chest freezer in Karen’s workshop that could hold a lot of food, so why not. As an afterthought, I grabbed one of the last packages of toilet paper before the mob wiped the store out. Why was there a run on toilet paper? What the hell? It’s not like this virus gave you diarrhea or something. As I walked past the diaper aisle, I paused and thought for a fleeting second about picking up a package of Goodnights. Karen was very tolerant of my accidents, but she of course didn’t like waking up wet, and had in the past suggested that maybe, perhaps, I should consider wearing some protection. With a shiver I continued on. I was not ready for that. I mean, I sometimes wore them if we were travelling or something, but those were special cases. Not at home. As I was getting ready to brave the long checkout line, I realized that the mornings’ coffee was ready to come out. Parking my cart on the side I used the facilities, only to return to see that someone had taken the toilet paper from the bottom of my cart. And, of course, there was none left now. Argh. Time to get out here before they took my sanity along with the toilet paper. After a few other stops, I finally returned home. I found Karen in the barn listening to a stream of the governor speaking. “And so therefore, I am directing all citizens to shelter in place … Only essential workers may travel… orders shall stay in effect....” “So, it’s begun, eh?” She turned to me from the cabinet base she had been working on, her eyes betraying her anxiousness. “Yeah, it looks like it. Everything is shut down. Everything. Did you get groceries?” “Everything but the toilet paper. Someone stole that. It’s a mob scene out there.” She looked at me, incredulous. “Someone stole your toilet paper? Do people think that COVID gives you the runs or something? What the hell?” I laughed. “Yeah, that was exactly my thought. It was on my cart, but I had to leave it to use the restroom, and when I came back…” “Wow.” “Yeah. Wow. Glad I’m back now.” We hugged. I looked her in the eyes. “This is going to be a mess, isn’t it?” Sigh. “Yeah. It’s unprecedented here in so many ways. And… well… I don’t think people are going to do well with it.” “Can you help me get the rest of the groceries? What’s left in the car needs to go in the chest freezer, I think, and, urm.” I gestured to the box I had brought in. “There are two more boxes in the car. I’ll go get those.” Karen laughed. “Of course, honey.” She took the box over to the freezer and started unloading as I brought the other two boxes in, loaded with frozen food. I look over the edge of the freezer. This is where my height was a problem, of course. At only four and a half feet, only my shoulders were above the freezer, and I couldn’t really reach in to help without going to get a stool. Oh well. I was used to having others handle these kinds of things; it was just easier, really. Most of the time my small stature didn’t matter, but there were some things that were just not designed for short people. Lunch was a quick sandwich affair, and then she was back to work. She had talked to her company, but since she was working in her own shop here the shutdown didn’t really change anything for her. If anything, would give her a chance to catch up while everyone else paused. I, on the other hand, was bound and determined to not let a little lockdown get in the way of my hard-earned time off. So, groceries put away and lunch cleaned up, I lay down with a book, and promptly fell asleep.

Changing Roles Chapter 1 Chris sat miserably silent in the passenger seat of the car as his wife chatted to the couple standing outside in the mall carpark. The couple were Dave and Anna. Anna was a firm friend of Chris’s wife Sue and Chris had teamed up with Dave on the golf course a few times. At least they said hello to me, thought Chris unhappily. Since Chris had been ill he’d become used to the type of awkward greeting he had just received as both Anna and Dave had ducked their heads down and said hello. They said it with the usual look of concern, and as usual they waited until Chris had returned their greeting in the halting, stuttering manner which was now the best he could manage. Their faces had then gone back out of Chris’s sight, probably with relief, Chris thought. There wasn’t much they could say to each other since Chris’s problems had begun. Conversation was as difficult for them as it was for Chris. ‘We’ve been looking at a new driver for Dave,’ Chris heard Anna say before returning to his jumbled thoughts. ‘Just a bit of shopping,’ he heard his wife reply a moment later, and he felt a jolt of despair. Sue had been buying diapers for Chris. He was wetting every night now, and the doctor had recommended a thicker diaper from the medical supply firm next to the mall. Dave and Anna were looking for a golf club for Dave, and Sue was buying diapers for Chris. As if to underline Chris’s new needs, he felt another jolt, this time from his lower body. He turned to say something to Sue, but couldn’t get the words out. He put his hand on her thigh, and gave it a squeeze. Sue turned to him, and saw the look on his face. ‘Well,’ she said to the two torsos Chris could see next to the driver’s window. ‘We’d better get home.’ ‘OK,’ Chris heard Anna say. ‘Good to see you. Bye Chris,’ she added with another quick look inside the car. ‘Yeah, see ya Chris,’ he heard Dave say. As they drove out of the carpark, Sue turned again to Chris. ‘Are you OK, honey?’ she asked. Chris nodded, but Sue could see that he wasn’t comfortable. She guessed the reason. ‘Honey, we’re going straight home. I asked you if you needed to wee in the mall. Why didn’t you say so then?’ she said. ‘It’s OK,’ Chris stammered. Sue turned out onto the main road, then reached across and put her hand to Chris’s crotch. ‘Oh, it’s not OK, honey. You’re wet again,’ she said. Chris looked down at the crotch of his chinos. It was soaked. He hadn’t been aware of peeing. ‘Honestly, Chris…’ she began, but was interrupted by Chris’s tears. Sue took a deep breath. ‘Chris, please, it’s not the end of the world. Just be thankful it didn’t…’ ‘They were buying golf clubs for Dave,’ Chris blurted out, managing to string all the words together without stalling. He took a breath. ‘And we were, you were, buying, d, d, diapers for m, m, me,’ said as his tears overwhelmed him. Sue loved Chris deeply, and her caring instincts welled up. Chris often cried now. The doctor said it was a result of his lowered ability to cope with his emotions. ‘Honey, we’ll just get you home, then we can fix you up, OK?’ said Sue. Chris nodded through his tears. Neither spoke as they drove on. Chris was worrying that his problems were taking over more of his life, while Sue was thinking this meant another discussion about daytime protection. She decided she would be much firmer with Chris this time. After all, the doctor had said that it would be better for both of them if she took a firm hand with Chris. ‘Whether you like it or not, Sue, your roles have changed. You need to take charge of the situation a little more. He needs that, and it’s better for both of you,’ she had told Sue. She was thinking about the doctor’s words as she looked across at her unhappy husband. ‘I love you, sweetie,’ she said. Chris returned her words with gratitude in his eyes. He was trying to say something. ‘It’s ok,’ Sue said. ‘We’ll be home soon.’ To be continued.