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Hi guys! This story is about a middle-aged man who finds himself moving back to his tyrannical mother's house. Divorced and jobless, Ian's bedwetting returns and his mother is not happy about it. All Ian needs is a friend, someone to take care of him, but he feels more lonely than ever. In the house next to her mother's, Amelia is looking for the right man. Someone who needs her and is devoted to her. But she's got no luck. Until... Chapters two to four are already up on my website: The Padded Playground Finding Mommy Ian was an average forty-two-year-old, except for a few things. He didn’t have a car, a wife, kids, a pet, or a house. He had them in the past, but a series of terrible decisions and financial mistakes had finally pushed away everything he held dear. After the storm that had been the previous year, he had returned to live with his mother, who welcomed him begrudgingly into her house. Elena was a ruthless woman with a terrible temperament, perhaps the reason why she had divorced three times in her sixty years of life. “I’m expecting you to pull your own weight, starting by paying rent as soon as possible,” said Elena, “I’m not running a charity here. And you better find another place if you want to receive visits. I don’t want no kids or skanks in my home.” “I know, Mom. I’m looking for a job already, I just need some time,” Ian replied, entering his childhood room. It felt as if he had stepped into the past, surrounded by his old toys, stuffed animals, a bed in the shape of a car, and old coloring books. He had left his mom’s home when he was just a boy and had stayed with his father until it was time to go to college. Sadly, his father had passed away, and with no siblings or anyone else to turn to, he found solace in his mother’s house. “You can remove the plastic sheets. But only if you stopped your bedwetting.” Ian blushed, “I don’t wet the bed anymore, Mom.” “Don’t blame me for being cautious. You can redo the room as much as you want, but I hope you don’t if that means you’ll be out of here soon enough,” said Elena, leaving Ian alone in his childhood room. All his life was packed in boxes and suitcases, and he had nothing really to hope for. Perhaps he would get some good news from his job interview, but when the call came, it wasn’t to congratulate him about his new position. No, it was to turn him down for someone younger and better; just like his ex-wife had done. He closed his door and cried a little before unpacking. Chapter One Ian woke up that day with a familiar sense of dread, the same one that had accompanied him since his divorce. Disoriented and still confused about his new environment, he stood up, only to have his heart stop for a second when he realized what had happened. His car-shaped bed was completely soaked, and so were his pajamas. “Ian, Ian. Wake up,” his mother called, knocking at his door. “I don’t want you sleeping in every morning. Get the trash out and make some breakfast. You’ll be cleaning the house until you get a real job.” But Ian couldn’t answer. He was on the brink of despair. The day before, he couldn’t think about anything but the fact that there was nowhere else to fall. He had touched rock bottom, and now he realized he could still fall further. This morning was just it. “Don’t make me come in,” said Elena. Sobbing, he tried to keep his mother out, “It’s okay. I’m awake. I’ll be out in a minute.” He rushed to undo the bed, removing the wet sheets. But then the door opened, and there was no denying what had happened. His mother stood in the doorway, intimidating as she had looked throughout his childhood, her expression of disgust and disappointment evident. “Again?!” she shouted, storming in and pushing his face into the soaked bed. “What’s this?!” “I’m sorry,” he said, knowing he could have freed himself but not daring to do so. “It was an accident,” he managed to reply between sobs. “Am I gonna have to put you back in diapers? Is this why she left you, huh? Because she was tired of waking up to a wet bed?” Ian didn’t know what to say or how to react, and his mother’s grip forced him against the wet patch on his bed. “My goodness. Thank God your father took you away, or I would’ve beaten you every morning until you outgrew this childish behavior. Be a man and clean this mess.” Now crying desperately, Ian took the sheets to the washing machine, walking around in his wet pajamas, hoping it was all a nightmare. That he would soon wake up and be back home with his loving wife and kids, enjoying the perks of a high-paying job. But he closed his eyes and opened them again, and he was still in his mother’s basement, wet and sobbing. ……………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………… Amelia rested on her bed, tired of doing the same meaningless task every single day. At twenty-two, she was lucky to have her own place and a good-paying job, but even with all her luck, she couldn’t shake the feeling something was missing. She had thought about getting a dog. Maybe feeling needed by a creature that required attention and supervision was just what she needed. Sighing, she decided to keep coding the latest software updates for the company she worked for. If she was honest, she was just lonely. She didn’t have friends, by choice, though. And her recent dating adventures had been major flops. People, at least that’s how she saw it, were getting more stupid and vain with each year. She was a good catch. Tall and athletically built with long legs and a strong core. Brunette with blue eyes, her Tinder account was always buzzing with attention from the opposite sex. But attracting a handsome man wasn’t the problem; finding them attractive after they opened their mouths was almost impossible. She looked out her window. The neighbor, an old lady, was shouting again. Amelia couldn’t quite make out what was being said. Nothing too out of the ordinary, though. When the neighbor’s husband was around, it was a shouting match every day. As nasty a woman as they come, she thought before getting ready for the gym. ……………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………… Ian had very few pleasures in life now. Video games and Netflix weren’t enough to keep his spirits up. He needed something to do. He needed a way out of his mother’s house and back to his old life. Looking down at his wet mattress, hoping his mother was bluffing when she threatened him with diapers, he wished for someone to help him. Someone kind and caring. But his hope was crushed when night came and, in his room, over his car-shaped bed, a package of adult disposable diapers was waiting for him. “I’m not going to hear a word about it.” “But I can’t just wear diapers. I’m not a baby,” Ian tried to defend himself. “You are not a baby? Okay, so tell me, do adults wet their beds?” “I mean, maybe some…” “Not any adults I know. Only babies do that. Not even toddlers. Babies! You can either accept the diapers or go back to the streets.” “But…” “But what? Who will you go to? You’re a pissy pansy with no job, no money, no car, no friends, no nothing.” He was used to her venomous words, but this time, she struck something in him, and without warning, he felt a warm liquid running down his legs. There was silence for a moment, and then his mother burst into laughter so loud, he swore the house shook with it. “You sissy. I knew I should’ve aborted you when I could! Disgraceful excuse for a man. Go on, tell me you don’t need diapers,” she taunted him. “Go on, tell me you’re not a baby, you sissy. How on earth you managed to get a wife in the first place is beyond me.” Ian couldn’t answer. She was right. She grabbed him by the wrist with a grip so strong it reminded him of all the times he had been punished as a child. What followed was something Ian couldn’t have predicted even in his worst nightmares. His mother removed his wet pants and trousers, leaving him standing there, naked from the waist down. “No wonder she left you,” she said, “That’s not much bigger than when you were a kid.” Her words cut deeper than iron as she grabbed a bunch of baby wipes and harshly cleaned his wet crotch. It didn’t take long before he found himself lying over a thick adult diaper, sobbing as his mother mocked him for his incompetence at adulting. And just like that, he had fallen even lower than he thought possible. He looked out the window as his mother taped the diaper after spreading a generous amount of baby powder over his most intimate parts, hoping things could soon change for the better.

‘Now?’ Chapter 1 (part) ‘Now?’ asked Chris, looking anxiously at his wife and simultaneously feeling a small, nervous spurt of pee escape into his adult pull-ups. ‘You didn’t say anything about that.’ ’No, I didn’t,’ replied Anthea. ‘I’m actually quite busy, and I honestly don’t see the need to keep you informed of everything in my diary.’ Anthea spoke without taking her attractively made up eyes from the road. She looked like what she was - the house legal counsel for a large software developer. Her husband’s former employer. Chris turned and looked again at his wife as she drove her smart European coupe out of the mall car park, towards not home but some unknown destination where Chris would have to endure another ‘expert’ peering into the details of his life. His life now, thought Chris miserably, not his life then. He moved his hips to get comfortable on the slippery leather of the car seat. He wet slightly again, and knew by feel that his various little leaks that morning had added up to a wet pull-up that now needed changing. Chris felt the familiar, rising sense of feeling sorry for himself and also needing help from Anthea. Anthea had a sixth sense about the condition of Chris’s underclothing, whether it was the pull-ups he wore for trips out, or the disposable diapers he wore at night. With the briefest glance in Chris’s direction, she asked him if he needed changing. ‘Yes,’ said Chris quietly, catching his breath as he attempted to stifle a sob. He couldn’t help it sometimes. Anthea was so perfect compared to him. She had a big job and was the breadwinner. She had lots of colleagues and friends, while Chris’s world and contacts had shrunk to home, Anthea and the few people who knew the couple well enough to know about Chris’s condition. He wasn’t even sure some of the people Anthea dealt with knew she was married. ‘You can change when we get there,’ said Anthea. Chris looked down at the familiar blue bag at his feet in the carpeted footwell. It was a diaper bag, like mothers had for their babies and toddlers. But it was his diaper bag. He knew what was in it. Two or three pull-ups, a couple of disposables, plastic pants, horrible, embarrassing smelling talc, plus wipes and a few creams. There would also be a change of outer pants for Chris, whatever Anthea had chosen for him. He hadn’t chosen what he wore for so long now, Chris thought. He looked down over the denim bib of his shortfalls to the slight bulge in the vee of his crotch, where the stitching of the fake fly curved down between his legs. He didn’t even look male any more down there, he thought, and his feelings of self pity and need overcame him. He released the remainder of his pee into his pull-up and gave way to the sobbing he’d tried to suppress. He reached across the car and clutched a handful of his wife’s expensive woollen skirt, feeling the slippery layers of satin lining and Anthea’s pantyhose beneath. ‘Oh, honey, please,’ said Anthea, carefully prising Chris’s fingers from her skirt but still holding his hand. ‘We haven’t got time for this.’ Chris knew she meant she didn’t have time for this. Chris had lots of time. It wasn’t really his time, though. Not now. Now, Anthea usually decided how Chris would spend his time. He was 27 years old, a ‘former executive’ even if he had trouble now remembering what he actually did, and now his wife decided how he spent his time. And what he wore. He knew his shortalls were practical. They stopped wet pull-ups from sagging, they were comfortable and easy to get in and out of. Chris had objected to them at first as too childish, but Anthea said he’d get used to them. Which he did. He’d learned that there was no point arguing with Anthea. back soon