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"Are you in here, honey?" I called as I opened the door to our hotel room. I had a fight with my new bride a couple hours ago while we were supposed to be enjoying the beach. She said she needed some time to herself in order to cool off, and left me alone on the beach. After that, I realized I had been acting like an ass, and so I sat on the beach for a couple hours trying to give her the space she said she needed. I was hoping she would be in here, but from the empty room it seemed like she was still out cooling off. So, I sat on the patio of our hotel room, watching the waves come in and out, and waited for her to return. Half an hour later, I heard the electronic clicking of the hotel room door unlocking and opening, so I headed back inside. My wife had evidently used shopping as her method for calming down, because her arms were laden with several big sacks laden with items. "I'm sorry dear," I said. "I've been acting like an ass this entire time. I was upset that they switched our room from a king size to two double beds, and then forgetting to put our order in at breakfast this morning, and all of that has been stressing me out because I just want us to have a good time. But I have been taking my frustration out on you and I am sorry for doing that." "Well thank you baby. I really appreciate that apology." My newly wedded wife said in her normal sing-song tone, rather than the angered tone of voice she used whenever she was mad. "I know you just want us to have a good time. Yes, the double beds sucked, but I think they are actually going to work out for us." "Oh, why is that," I asked surprised. She was so upset when the concierge told us that she had been ready to book another resort. "Well, I realized that this is my fault. I've been letting you pretend to be the big strong man in control at our wedding, and now on the honeymoon, but all that responsibility has been frustrating you. So now you're at your limit and starting to throw temper tantrums. I never should have let you be anything other than my little diaper boy," she said. Then, she opened one of her shopping bags and pulled out a large package of adult diapers. This was followed by diaper rash cream, baby powder, baby wipes, a couple jars of baby food, suppositories, and two baby bottles. "So, here is what is going to happen. I am going to spank you for throwing temper tantrums. Then, you are going into a diaper, and then your face is going into a corner to think about what you've done. After that, I am going to feed you this baby food for lunch. Then we can continue on with the rest of our honeymoon. Understood?" She asked. I stared at her, a bit in shock. My wife had never been against my abdl fetishes, but she had also never been the instigator of anything. Let alone giving me a punishment for my behavior outside of a roleplay scene. Apparently though I was silent for too long, because she walked over to me and started pinching my ear. Pulling me down to look her in the face, she asked again, "is that clear little diaper boy?" "Yes mommy," I responded. "Good. Arms up, legs apart then so I can get those clothes off you." My wife ordered. I adopted a pose similar to the one you have to make when going through the TSA security screening. My wife then stripped me naked in a business-like, efficient manner. Then, before I could react she took me by the arm and had me pinned against her lap on the bed. Her hairbrush then began delivering sharp, stinging swats up and down my legs, but most were focused on my bare ass. Soon I was squirming and twisting across my wife's lap, trying to avoid as many direct hits as I could. I have no idea how long the spanking actually lasted, or how many hits I took. I was exhausted though when my wife was finally finished. I tried to get off her lap when no blows had landed for a minute, but she held me tight, saying "what do you say little baby?" "Thank you for my spanking mommy," I said, wanting to get up and rub my stinging cheeks. "You're welcome baby," my wife said. She released me from her lap, but I didn't have long to soothe my stinging cheeks. It only took a minute for her to pull a diaper out of the package and have it spread out on the bed. After that, I was laying down on top of the diaper, holding my legs up in the air while diaper rash cream was spread all over my bum and my crotch was liberally coated with baby powder. I also felt a finger penetrate my sphincter as a suppository was none too gently inserted inside of me. Once my mommy/wife felt that I was properly prepared, the diaper was taped tightly around me. The thick padding rubbed and touched every inch of my red and sore bottom, adding to the discomfort of the spanking. Washing her hands clean of powder and cream, my wife took me out onto the patio of our hotel room. It was secluded enough that no one was likely to see me in nothing but a diaper, but the prospect still existed making me feel uncomfortable. Mommy took a coin out from her purse, and put it on the wall at waist height. She held it there with her finger, until I got down to hold it with my nose. The coin was at an awkward height. It was too high for me to hold it against the wall while on my knees. This meant I had to hold an awkward, hunched squat to keep the coin against the wall. Once my nose was securely holding the coin against the wall, mommy took the shirt that I had been wearing, and covered my eyes with it. My hands were then tied behind my back with the rope we had brought to have some kinky sex on our honeymoon. Until now, it had remained in the suitcase. "Alright honey," My wife said. "I am going to go get some lunch. You are going to keep that coin against the wall until I return, unless you want a maintenance spanking every morning and evening. Is that understood?" "Yesss Mommmmmy," I said, strained from worrying about losing the coin. Without another word, I heard the sliding glass door close and lock behind me, leaving me to endure my punishment alone. I had no concept of time, as I squatted there, concentrating on holding the coin to the wall. After what I would guess was around five minutes, I started feeling the strain of my position on my legs. After five more minutes, I felt the rumbling of the suppository, working within my bowels. After another five minutes, my bowels were ready to release. I tried holding it, but already in a squat and overwhelmed with the fatigue in my legs and effort of keeping the coin on the wall, I only made a feeble attempt. Soon the hot, soft mush was erupting out of my bowels and into the seat of my potty pants. My ass was tender from my spanking, so I could feel the gross mush as it spread around my diaper. The contact against my bruising bottom also made the welts sting more. At this point, my emotions overcame me, and I began crying like the baby I was. I was so overwhelmed the only thing I could think to do was keep my face pressed against the wall, holding the coin up while tears streamed into my blindfold and I sobbed uncontrollably. That's how my mommy found me. I had been crying like that for what felt like a while when she found me. Without saying anything, she gently pulled me away from the wall, and onto my butt, spreading the mush all around my tush as I put pressure on my diaper. This truly spread it everywhere. I felt dirty, gross, embarrassed, tired, and in pain, and my crying intensified. I imagine I truly looked like a toddler. My wife/mommy pulled a chair up next to me, and tenderly cradled me against her legs, gently patting my back and telling me to let it all out. We stayed like that for a while, until I had calmed down. "Are you ready for your lunch now baby?" My wife asked me. "Yes, mmmommy," I said, still sniffling a little. I heard two pops as she opened the cans of baby food she had purchased with my diapers. Still blind folded, I was unable to see what mommy was feeding me. When I felt a spoon press against my lips though, I obediently opened my mouth for her to shovel a spoonful of baby food into me. I tried to swallow it as quickly as possible to avoid tasting it, but thankfully, Mommy was taking mercy on me in this portion of my punishment. She was feeding me peaches, and a berry puree. I swallowed all the baby food, and drank a baby bottle of water, but after wetting my diaper Infound I was still hungry. My stomach even rumbled. At this, mommy said, "awe, my little man's cry must have taken a lot out of energy for him to be this hungry. Would you like some more lunch diaper boy?" "Yes mommy," I said meekly, humbled by my punishment and current state. "Open wide baby," Mommy said before feeding me a waffle fry. She must have brought them back from her lunch, because she had a lot of them to feed me. After the fries, and a second baby bottle of water, I was stuffed. Embarrassingly, some gentle patting from my mommy against my back even forced a burp out of me. She then untied my arms and removed my blindfold, but didn't let me get up off the ground just yet. "Ok baby, before we get you showered, we need to go over the ground rules for the rest of our trip." Mommy said. "I am not going to order you into diapers. You have to ask for them yourself. These diapers are only coming back home with us one way, and that is wrapped around your waist. So unless you want to be waddling around the airport in a diaper so thick your pants won't fit around, you are going to have to ask me to put you in one any time we are not at the beach. Also, we are not wasting any of these diapers. That means you are not going to get to take a diaper off unless it has been pooped and peed in. The rest of the suppositories are to help you with this. If you think that going to the beach means you will get changed out of a diaper that's only been peed in, think twice. Once your trunks are ready to come off I will tape the wet diaper right back on you. So think carefully about when you want a diaper, when you want a suppository, and how many liquids you are consuming. Is all of that understood?" "Yeth mommy," I replied, mortified at the thought of how much I would be forcing myself to pee and poop my diapers in order to get through them all, and avoid having any used ones taped back on me. With that, Mommy eased me up off the ground and led me to the shower to get me cleaned up. I knew I would be asking my mommy to put me in a fresh diaper as soon as I dried off.

A/N: IMPORTANT TO NOTICE Hey all! I hope you're all doing well! Do not worry! I am still working on my other stories but had started this a while ago and felt like I should post it! Just a warning in the beginning that this story will contain a lot of non-con, sexual content and humiliation. If this makes you uncomfortable than I suggest you don't read it! I love seeing comments so I'd love to see everyone's comments! ooOoo Summary: When a young new independent journalist decides to write about something other than the typical run of the mill stories, she is introduced into a new life, just not in the way she expected. ooOoo Chapter 1: MommyslittleBiggurls.com 22 December 2021 Hello Friends! It sure has been a while! I hope you’re all doing well on this frosty morning. Here in Montana, we’re certainly going to have a white Christmas. Sugar and Cookie sure are excited to see Santa and have been extra careful to be good girls; always asking for the potty like good little girls, eating all of their veggies at dinner and making sure to drink all of their babas full of yummy milk! I’m sure you all are experiencing the same with your little ones at the moment, even the disobedient can’t ignore the happy cheer of Christmas. I really can’t believe it’s only been three months since we first adopted our newest little girl, Honey! Of course with new littles, it’s always an adventure and Sugar and Cookie are being the best big sisters they can be! It can be hard, especially around the holidays to deal with an un-regressed, naughty little so that brings me to the topic of today’s post: Punishments. If you're like me or are a new caregiver, it’s never easy training a new little and before they can be our sweet little babies, they will be literal demons! It is never fun but in order to nip that naughty behavior in the bum, punishment is required and it is not always as simple as quick spanking. Listed below, you will find three different punishments to try if you, like me, were at a loss. Punishments: Punishment 1: Corner time with a twist Depending on the severity of the naughty behavior, instruct your little one it's corner time for a certain amount of time. While many, if not all, will just find this incredibly boring and whine, there is a small twist. Listen carefully to these five steps: Take littles’ clothes away (that means no diapers/pullups/or undies as well!), Give a nice soapy cold enema to their bum-bum and insert a buttplug to ensure no dribbles Administer a firm spanking (I’ve found different objects such as a belt or hairbrush to be most effective!) Little will bend down or kneel in the corner with their bum-bum high in the air for everyone to see After a certain amount of time, if the little has not moved from their position, you will instruct the little to tell you what they did wrong and have them beg to release their bodily functions. If you are unsatisfied with their response, even more minutes will be added to corner time Punishment 2: Potty Time with Horsy Let’s get real, we’ve all struggled with littles refusing to go potty in their diapers or on the training toilet and it’s a pain to have to insert enemas and suppositories into screaming littles. That’s how I came up with horsy time. The rocking horse, while meant to be an object of amusement during playtime, can just as quickly be turned into an object of torture. What you need to do is listed below: The little will sit on the rocking horse in only their bottoms, whether that be a diaper or pull-up Place earphones on little and set to the wet diaper hypnosis Instruct the little to rock back and forth and do not stop no matter what and not to mess or wet themselves Plan a certain amount of time and come back when the time is up If the little is still rocking and is dry, they have earned the privilege to go potty. If not, horsy time is extended and the dirty diaper stays on another several hours The constant rhythmic motion combined with hypnosis at the same timing will put the littles right in the mood to have to relieve themselves. How they do it will no longer matter. The added pressure to keep a constant rocking in order to avoid further punishment will take a heavy toll on their mind as well and increase the need for positive behavior. Punishment 3: No Playtime with Teddy If you choose to allow your little to have any sexual release, this punishment can have a rewarding effect. As a human race, we are sexual beings but not everyone deserves or should have such an experience. Littles have gotten it into their minds that they should be allowed to have such experiences, but what do they know? They’re just littles. It is our job as caretakers to instruct and control their urges. If we leave them to their own devices, who knows what will happen? My little girls are allowed one play session a week with Mr. Teddy Bear to release all of their icky cummies by the hand of mommy and daddy. While Rosie and Cookie know being a good girl will lead to happy feelings, Honey is still learning. Orgasm and cum denial or “the tickles and ice cream dance” as we call it, are an excellent way to assert dominance and make them quickly realize who the real grownups are and who is in charge. Mittens or restraints are a must for untrained littles! You never know where their wandering hands will end up! Chastity belts are also a great device, especially if they get a little too excited during playtime and try humping (which is extremely discouraged!) IMPORTANT: It is important to enforce anything sexual is not allowed without the approval, observation, and act by grown-ups because you never know when littles might accidentally injure themselves! I hope you all enjoyed my little list and hopefully it helps you on your journey to having a regressed little! It may seem tough at times but we’ve all gone through it before (I currently am!) Stay tuned for next time and meanwhile, have a Merry Christmas! Love, Mommy Bree ooOoo The sound of the ding signaling the post had been successfully posted was a happy feeling to say the least. Unknown outside the world of ageplay, Bree Hawthorne was as famous as could be within the community. With over ten thousand followers and readers, people tuned in from all over the world to read about their simple little family. Being a blogger on top of a mommy had become her full time job and she didn’t regret a single second of it. She always knew she wanted to have a family and her love for blogging couldn’t have been a more perfect combination. There were so many who envied to fill the role of a Hawthorne little but only so few could actually meet the requirements. That’s why they had taken to unique means of obtaining their little girls. Kidnapping was a bit too harsh a term. They preferred adoption. Did the public need to know that? No. Would they ever find out? Probably not. Looking around outside the large glass windows, the only view for miles was farmland with snow capped mountains in the background. Bloomington, Montana was the perfect place to go to if one didn’t want to be found. They had the freedom to be who they were without any nosey neighbors disrupting their lives. Her husband, coming from old money, allowed them to own lavish homes around the country, buy the newest high-tech adult-baby equipment and pay off those they needed to stay quiet. Everything was as it should be. Everything would soon be perfect. They were our babydolls. Sugar, Cookie, Honey and- “Another post?” Jasper. At the sound of his deep voice, she spun around in the swivel chair. Face to face with her blonde, strong-jawed, blue eyed handsome husband. He was everything she dreamed of in a man. Strong, smart, caring, loyal. A great daddy to their three wonderful girls. What more could a person ask of a spouse? “Yes. I’ve finished just in time for… lunch!” she exclaimed, glancing at the time and shutting down the macbook. “Today’s post was about punishments and I gave the best examples of Honey. How is she doing this morning actually? The baby monitor on her end has been awfully quiet.” she asked, having been in the office the entire morning working. “Sleeping.” was his only response, scowling with his hand over his face. “Do I want to know what happened?” “No.” It was always a struggle to tame the girl and her rebellious behavior and silly dreams. Most often then not her bum was black and blue, littered with marks and bruises. How a five foot, one-hundred-twenty pound girl with not an ounce of body fat had managed to give them this much a fight, they did not know. While the little blonde fought they pushed back just as hard. She would break eventually. They all do. “Sugar and Cookie are in the playpen writing letters to Santa,” that made them crack a smile. “I can feed them while you handle, Honey? I may just take her over my knee again and that’s not what she needs at the moment.” Bree reached out, wrapping her arms around his neck as his face burrowed into her kinky black hair, placing a trail of kisses upon her chocolate colored skin. “So it’s my turn to play the bad mommy,” she mused. “Precisely.” her husband cracked a smile. “It feels so much longer than three months since we got her. Remember?” Oh, how could they forget…

before the story starts, this is a spin off of my story Tinny Intruder. it was originally written for "the little theif" but since i no longer want to be a part of that, i had to delete the original and edit it slightly. this story was written by Redwelch and given to me when he stooped writing. as such it is my story to do with as i like. this story is a short 3 parts. but will tie into the last chapter of Tinny intruder and its sequel. Preas is a genetic disorder that seemingly stops a person's body from maturing. Some see it as a gift, always looking young. Some see it as a curse, rarely looking older than 12 at best and 6 at worst. No one really knows when or why Preass first appeared. Genetic mutations? God? Who knows. As a Preas, you'll typically have a few problems. The biggest problem is weak bladders, meaning most Preas wear diapers or pull-ups for protection. Because of their appearance and disability, Preas are forced to have many troubles. A Preas cannot order or buy alcohol despite having an ID. While they are allowed to drink in the privacy of their own home, they just can't buy it, The main reason is that kids would make fake IDs and try to buy alcohol. Many other minor problems like that exist, and many Preas don't know what to do with themselves. Some even have mental shutdowns and never grow up. But for one Prea, she wasn't like that. When Zoeandra was 5, she learned she had Preas and would never look older than 6. At ten, she researched Preas and all of their problems. It was here that she decided to devote herself to helping Preas. But how? Zoeandra not only studied but also worked very hard to save money. By 18, she got a small loan and started her Preas supply company. A company that makes all types of supplies for Preas. From better and more absorbent diapers to custom wardrobes that aren't from a kid's section of a story and are sold at an affordable price. By 25, she had greatly expanded her company and became number one in Preas merchandising. By 32, she had expanded to more parts of the world. "WILDA!" Zoeandra screamed from her office as she looked through her paperwork. "Yes, ma'am?" Wilda, a tall, busty woman with brunette hair, asked as she walked into the office. Wilda was Zoeandra's 12th secretary. As Zoeandra's secretary, besides regular office work, you must also help care for any of Zoeandra's particular needs. Such as driving her to and from work, changing Zoeandra's diaper, and sometimes having to calm Zoeandra down when she gets overly stressed out and starts lashing out. Of all the secretaries, Zoeandra had 3 quit because they couldn't handle the diaper changes. 3 were fired because they were constantly late to pick her up for work, 2 quit because they couldn't bear the responsibility, and 1 was fired because they tried to find something to blackmail Zoeandra with but failed. Two were really good and were with Zoeandra for a few years before Zoeandra prompted them to run one of her companies. But Wilda was different. She was with Zoeandra for the last five years and has gone beyond what was called for. Wilda arrived early to pick up Zoeandra from her home every day. Sometimes even coming in to make breakfast for Zoeandra before bringing her to work. She always made sure to map out a schedule for Zoeandra so that she was always on time and had lunch on time. Sometimes, making Zoeandra a homemade lunch. Zoeandra had to admit she loved Wilda's homemade chicken strips. When Zoeandra would get overly stressed, Wilda knew what to say or do to calm her down. Only once, two years ago, Zoeandra had a massive tantrum. One were she was threatening to fire everyone, which caused Wilda to force Zoeandra over her lap for a spanking before sticking her nose in the corner for a timeout. 30 minutes later, Zoeandra had calmed down and apologized to Wilda for how she was acting. But threatened to fire her if she ever spanked her again. Finally, the big thing Zoeandra loves about Wilda is that she always takes care of her. Somedays, Zoeandra would be so swamped with work that she would stay extra hours and tell her old secretaries to go home and call a cab. She worked so late on those nights that she slept in her office. But with Wilda, when Zoeandra told her that, she clocked out and waited for Zoeandra to finish her work before taking the small woman home. On days like that, Zoeandra would be so exhausted that Wilda would take her inside and put her to bed at first. Then, she eventually started ensuring Zoeandra ate something, showered, and was put to bed. As soon as Zoeandra found out Wilda had done that on her own time, Zoeandra tried to promote her right then. But she turned it down. "If I were to leave, who would care for you when you need it?" Wilda asked. So instead, Zoeandra offered to make Wilda her personal assistant who would help her with anything she needed at work and out and offered an excellent wage. And despite the occasional slip where Wilda would slightly baby Zoeandra, she was very respectful to Zoeandra. "WILDA! Where is document 3327!?" Zoeandra yelled as she frantically searched her desk for the document. Wilda didn't say anything as she walked beside the desk, lifted a piece of paper that fell to the floor, and set it on the desk. "T-thank you," Zoeandra said as she looked at the paper and started to sign it. While leaning forward, Wilda went behind her boss and pulled the back of her diaper to check her. "Wilda!" Zoeandra yelled and blushed as she was checked. "Zoeandra, how long have you been in a dirty diaper?" Wilda asked her boss with no reaction. When Zoeandra gets focused on her work, she forgets her diaper and could be messy for hours without knowing. Zoeandra just blushed and turned away from Wilda. So Wilda picked up Zoeandra and laid her on the changing table in the office. "How much work do you have left?" Wilda asked as she removed the diaper and started cleaning the mess. "I'm almost done. Just need another 20 minutes." Zoeandra told her as she let Wilda do her job. "Good, because this weekend is your "Relax" weekend," Wilda told Zoeandra, who couldn't help but smile as the new diaper was taped on. As soon as she sat back at her desk, Zoeandra quickly finished her work in 12 minutes to get out as soon as possible. As Zoeandra and Wilda walked through the company, most greeted her with the utmost respect she deserved. Some even approach their little boss and ask for advice or help. "Hey boss, how many Preass does it take to screw in a light bulb?" one of her employees asked as Zoeandra walked past. "none. We cry until someone does it for us." Zoeandra finished the joke. This was the type of environment Zoeandra had wanted for her company. One where everyone joked and respected one another. Were anyone could make a simple joke without offending someone. And where people were reworded not on what they looked like but their work ethic. But as Wilda opened the back door to her car for Zoeandra to walk into, she also knew there was more to her company than the happy parts. As Wilda began to drive, Zoeandra grabbed her black "special" bag she had Wilda hold onto. Inside was everything she needed for her weekend. Owning a big company has been one of the most stressful things in Zoeandra's life. Hence, she needed someone constantly around for the times it just gets too much, and Zoeandra starts freaking out and needs someone to calm her down. But it is not enough even with Wilda and all the help she gives Zoeandra. Zoeandra needed something to help relieve her stress. Something that didn't involve alcohol or expensive spa weekends. But Zoeandra couldn't think of anything until Wilda suggested something two years ago. As Wilda pulled up to a nice-sized apartment building, she got out and opened the back door of her car. "You ready, sweetheart?" Wilda asked. "Yes, mommy!" Zoey cheered as a little girl in a bright yellow sundress, and pigtails exited the car with her Princess backpack. As Zoey took Mommy's hand, they walked to the door and knocked. A few moments later, a young man about 19 came over and opened the door. "BIG BROTHER!" Zoey yelled as she rushed over and hugged the boy's leg. "HEY ZOEY!" the boy said happily as he picked up the small girl and gave her a hug. "You ready for this weekend?" "YA!" Zoey cheered, and Wilda giggled. "Remember, she needs a nap here soon," Wilda told her nephew. "And don't go overboard on the snacks this time." "AWWWW!" Zoey pouted upon hearing that but giggled as Wilda kissed her cheek. "You be good now, you hear?" Wilda told Zoey before giving her nephew a kiss as well. "You too, I'll return to pick her up on Monday. Ok, Danny?" "Don't worry, she's in good hands," Danny told his aunt. "Bye! Love you!" Zoey yelled as she waved goodbye to Wilda before she was brought inside. Two years ago, Zoeandra had to throw a big dinner party for people who would possibly work with her company. But some complications happened at Zoeandra's house, so she couldn't hold it there, and no restraint could squeeze them in on short notice. Thankfully, Wilda offered her home for the night, and the party went off without a hitch. But Zoeandra soon found herself bored as most of the conversations were about work, and many of the guests tended to talk with each other. Because of Zoeandra's size, most forgot she was even there. So, bored out of her mind, she decided to look around Wilda's house. It was a lovely house; this was the first time Zoeandra had been there despite knowing Wilda for years. Zoeandra noticed a slightly opened door with stairs leading down and strange noises from below. Zoeandra was curious and went down. That's when she met Danny for the first time. "Oh, didn't know someone was bringing a kid here," Danny said, not knowing who Zoeandra was. "Is it getting boring up there?" He was 17 and sitting on his bed playing video games. His aunt asked him to stay down here while the party was happening. His aunt already got him a pizza and snacks to keep him occupied while the party was upstairs. "Would you like to have a turn?" Danny offered his controller to Zoeandra. Zoeandra took the controller and thought, why not. Play a game for a few minutes, then return to the party. Wilda went looking for her boss 20 minutes later to find her eating a slice of pizza and yelling at Danny to do something on the game before cheering as they beat a level. Wilda couldn't help but smile as she knew Zoeandra hadn't had fun upstairs and didn't mind letting her boss stay down there with her nephew to have some fun. Wilda even returned and gave Zoeandra a sippy cup of juice before returning and dealing with the party. No one else seemed to notice Zoeandra was gone, and as everyone left around 11, Wilda went back to check on her nephew and boss. Her son was still playing his game at a quieter volume while Zoeandra was passed out on his lap. "Hi, Aunt Wilda. Are her parents picking her up?" Danny quietly asked as he helped his aunt lift the sleeping girl up. "No, she's going to stay the night here with us," Wilda whispered. "Why?" "She's my boss," Wilda told her nephew with a small smile as Zoeandra stuck her thumb into her mouth and started sucking on it. Zoeandra woke up the following day wearing one of Wilda's smaller t-shirts as a nightshirt in a guest room. Beside her were her clothes from the night before, already cleaned and folded by the bed. When Zoeandra saw Wilda, Wilda asked how her night was. "That was probably the best night's sleep I've had in a long time," Zoeandra told her. Upon hearing that, Wilda asked her boss if she would like to make a new business deal. Zoeandra didn't want a "mommy" or "daddy." No one would ever replace her real ones. She was only okay with a caregiver because she was still paying for them. And each one had to show Zoeandra with at least a decent form of respect. But after that night, Wilda figured out the best way for Zoeandra to relax was to turn off her Adult side and not worry about anything. But if she didn't want a mommy or daddy to look after her, what could she use to help? Why not a big brother? Danny was already about to start college, and his part-time job sucked. Wilda was worried her nephew wouldn't be able to concentrate on his school work and have his part-time job that gave him crazy hours. So Wilda offered Zoeandra and Danny a beneficial business relationship. Danny would be Zoeandra's "big brother" every other weekend for a set amount of money. Here, she could play, be a kid, and relax for two and a half days. At the same time, Danny got paid and could focus on his schooling. At first, neither liked the idea. It just seemed too weird. But after a while, it just clicked for them, and it became a natural thing. Every other weekend, Zoeandra would become Zoey and stay with her "big brother." "Ok, Zoey, you ready for your nap?" Danny asked as he walked into the living room. "NO!" Zoey yelled, not wanting a nap yet. She wasn't even sleepy yet! "Are you sure?" Danny asked. "Ya! I don't want to nap!" Zoey told him. Danny knew just what to do. "Then why not a story real quick? Then we can play some games." Danny offered. "Ok!" Zoey told him. She really did enjoy being read, too. Still carrying Zoey, Danny grabbed a book and sat on his couch as Zoey nestled right in to enjoy the book. Danny turned on some lullaby music before he started to read the book. Zoey was none the wiser as she slowly started to nod off from the music and story. Soon she was asleep in Danny's lab, covered up and sucking on a pacifier while Danny got on his laptop and worked on a school project. About an hour and a half later, Danny gently shook Zoey up. "Hi, sleepy head. How was your nap?" Danny asked. "Cood," Zoey said behind her pacifier as she rubbed the sleep from her eyes. Danny lifted her up and took her into the kitchen, where he sat her on a booster seat and got her a snack. After having some chocolate pudding and making a little mess on her face that Danny had to clean up, it was time to play. Zoey had her own toy box, where she got a few toys. But many were stuff Danny and Wilda had gotten her to play with. But what Zoey liked was to play on Danny's PlayStation. She loved playing Persona 5 and Kingdom Hearts 2. Or just sitting next to Danny as he played one of his games and just watched. This time, she watched him play a game about giant robots fighting each other. Gundam Braker, something or other... After 2 hours, Danny made a simple mac and cheese dinner with hotdogs before checking Zoey's diaper. She was very wet. "Zoey, why didn't you tell me you were wet?" Danny asked. Zoey just blushed and looked ashamed. She was having fun and didn't notice. "I sowey," Zoey told him. Danny just signed. "It's ok. At least it's time for a bath now," Danny told her. Hearing this made Zoey's eyes light up. She lived bath time! Dan didn't need to say more as Zoey was already getting undressed and bouncing excitedly for her bath. Dan laughed as he started the bath and added some bubbles to it. The tub wasn't even full when Zoey jumped in and splashed Dan. HEY!" Dan yelled playfully as he splashed her back. Zoeandra didn't have a tub at her house, just a shower (specially made for her), so she never understood how fun a bath was. That is until Zoey's first bath, where she could play in the water with her toys. Part of her wanted to get her own bath for her house but decided against it as it would take away from the magical feel of coming here. Dan helped get Zoey clean before he rinsed her off and let her play in the water for a while. When it was time to get out, Dan had to forcefully drain the lukewarm water to get her out, much to her pouty displeasure. Next came the thick nighttime diaper and pink bunny footie pajamas. Zoey giggled as she hopped around in her bunny outfit and played for another hour before it was time for bed. Dany cradled the little girl in his arms on the couch while one hand held a bottle of warm milk and the other a book. This time, Zoey managed to stay awake through the book and bottle, but her eyes were very heavy. "You sleepy?" Dan asked. "nowww." Zoey slurred sleepily as she rubbed her eyes, trying to stay awake. Dan picked her up and patted her back as he walked her into his bedroom. Zoeandra had to use a special crib because she rolled around in her sleep so much, but Zoey didn't have a crib here. His apartment was too small for one. As Zoey let out a burp, Dan placed the little girl on his bed by the side of the wall and put a long pillow between her and him. Dan was a little worried at first about sharing a bed with her, but after some time, they both liked it, and Dan found it cute some mornings when he would wake up to Zoey hugging him in her sleep as she rolled over the pillow. As Dan got into bed, he gave Zoey a good night kiss on her head. "Good night, baby sis," Danny said as he turned out the light. “Coo mifh bwig bworfer!” Zoey told him, “I wove u.”

The tone sounded for the end of class through the intercom system. The final wave of students funneled out of college lecture halls ready to go back home to their dorms. I sat at my desk, staring at a blank paper in front of me. My stomach groaned and I felt as if someone was twisting it, the pain drowning out every other sense. "Miss?" A voice broke me from my trance. "I'm fine," I muttered. "Are you sure? You look like you're in a lot of pain." The professor said, "It's okay, I'll be fine once I get back to my dorm. Thank you though." I said as I pushed myself up from the desk. I stood up, trying to ignore the stabbing feeling in my stomach. "I'm going to head out, thanks for checking on me." I said, looking over at him. He nodded. "See you tomorrow. And try to get your assignment done on time. If not, I can't help you with your grade this time." He chided, sounding genuinely pissed. I rolled my eyes and turned to walk out of the room. I walked down the hallways, the halls were empty except for the occasional students walking by. It wasn't until I reached the stairwell that I let out a sigh of relief. I pushed the door shut and twisted the deadbolt to lock it. I couldn't stand the pain anymore as I squatted down. Thankfully the cover I had over my diaper completely silenced any crinkle it would make as I started pushing. Gradually, a huge log of hard shit slowly crept out of my body. I had to adjust the leg garters and pull the back of the diaper down to make way for the size of the mess I was making. As it continued snaking its way out of me I put my hand on the seat of the soft waterproof cloth. I could feel it as it stretched more and more until the force of my pushing and the resistance of the diaper itself caused the load to collapse. Finally, the pain in my stomach was starting to subside. But a new feeling took over me, an almost desperate need to pee that had been overshadowed by the agony my constipation had been causing me. Moving closer to the door I went from a squat to a wall sit and tried to relax my bladder. After a few moments of heavy breathing, I started to hear the telltale hiss and felt the warmth enveloping the entire front of the padding. The absolute euphoria I felt finally being able to relieve myself was amazing. Finally, I lifted my skirt to see the damage I had done. I unsnapped The diaper cover and let it hit the ground. I pulled out my phone and opened my camera to get a better view. I was amazed at what I saw. The entire front of the diaper was tinged a light yellow and the wetness indicator had all but disappeared. I angle the camera back a little more to get a better view of the back and I could see the sheer size of the mess I had made. I smiled and took a few pictures as I pulled the diaper cover back on and snapped it shut, adjusting my skirt and letting it fall back to my knees. I stood up and sighed, still feeling a little lightheaded from the excitement of relieving myself. I unlocked the door and walked down the stairs. I got into my car and moaned as I felt my body weight smash the load in my diaper flat against me and the seat as I drove back to my dorm. Finally pulling into the parking lot I got out of my car and beeped the fob to lock it. I tried to hide that trademark cowboy walk as I made my way to the dorm elevator. I pressed the button for the fourth floor and watched as the door shut. After about a minute of hearing the cables whine and grind, the chime dinged and the doors opened. I double-checked to make sure I was on the right floor and made my way to my room. As soon as I entered my dorm I dropped my bag and pulled off my shirt, shoes, skirt, and diaper cover, tossing them into the hamper. Thankfully I was small-chested so I walked around in my diaper and sports bra. I could feel the weight of what I had done pulling on the fragile tapes, the only thing keeping the nightmare inside the padding on my body. I shuffled to my bedroom and snatched up my favorite belt. I hiked the garment up so that it was as tight against my body as I could manage and wrapped the belt around the waistband. I threaded the tail of it through the buckle until the last notch I had made and flipped it shut. Now confident that my diaper was secure I wandered towards the kitchen and rooted through the fridge. Did I forget to mention I have a roommate? I know surprising right someone like me doing the shit I do, no pun intended. But ironically enough she was into the same thing as me. Our dorm only allowed same sex roommates so I was stuck with another chick. I hated dealing with other women but thankfully we had enough in common to make it tolerable for both of us. I saw she had bought some yogurt tubes and I snagged a few. I wrote on a sticky note to let her know how many I'd taken and that I would buy her a new box if I ate them all. I grabbed some granola out of the cupboard and a bowl to mix up some homemade parfait. I dove back into the fridge, grabbed some fruit medley mix I bought, and sprinkled some on top. I mixed it all and poured it into the bowl. I grabbed a spoon and dug in. I love the taste of fruit and the yogurt was just sweet enough to add a little something extra. After I finished I rinsed out my dishes and put them on the rack to dry. Now that I was full, I went back to the living room and turned on the TV. I flipped through trying to find something entertaining to watch and decided to settle for YouTube. Sitting on the couch only reminded me more of what I was still wearing. I subconsciously started typing messy videos and compilations into the search bar. Within moments multiple playlists popped up from my previously watched and I skimmed through to see if there was any new content. They were usually forgotten about or archives, but on rare occasions, there would be a new addition. Seeing nothing new I decided to watch older videos I hadn't seen yet. After scrolling through nearly 30 thumbnails with a full red bar underneath, I finally made it to unwatched videos. I clicked on the first one that came up and was greeted with an older quality video of someone in a critter caboose diaper squatting in front of the camera facing away. The fuzzy audio was able to pick up a few grunts and sighs as the creator gently bounced up and down. After a few seconds, a small crackling sound could be heard and the back of the diaper started to expand. I couldn't help but imagine what was going on behind the diaper. I continued to watch the video as it started to expand further and the crackling turned into a few loud farts and a final blort. I was about to click on the next video when I noticed it still had some time left. I continued watching and the person making the video turned around and showed the front. Soon you could hear the same hiss I had made a meer 30 minutes ago as the designs slowly faded from the outer shell. The video ended and the autoplay went to the next clip. I watched about 30 minutes of that playlist before I felt the overwhelming need to deal with the excess excitement I had been bottling up. I went to my room and grabbed my Hitachi wand, mine was one of the older versions that still had a cord. I took it back into the living room, plugged it in, turned it on, and lay back against the couch with my legs up now, heels pressed into the cushion. I put on a new video, a compilation of one of my favorite creators messing, sometimes twice or multiple times in the same diaper. I started grunting and sighing as I ground the vibrator against the squishy wet padding of the front of the diaper. The vibrations rippled through the entire thing, even making its way up and around the back. It felt amazing. I started to whimper as I got closer and closer to climax until finally, I got off the couch. I got into a squatting position and tried to push out any mess I still might have had in my system in perfect unison with the video. As another partial load pushed its way into the back of my diaper I finally reached climax. I rested my entire upper body on the table as convulsions ripped through my body. I let out a small cry as my knees buckled and I started peeing even more. When I was finally able to pull myself back up onto the couch I turned off the wand and pulled the plug out of the wall, wrapped it up, and set it on the middle shelf of the table, grabbing a thin blanket we kept stored there and covered myself up. I looked at the TV and saw that a new video was playing, and still reveling in the bliss of such a powerful orgasm I watched until I drifted off to sleep. After what must have been only a few hours my roommate came in, slamming the door like always. I had asked her many times for her to be nicer on the door because I didn't want to have any kind of repair/inspection done on our dorm. Both my roommate and I were huge stoners and there was a no-smoking rule in place for the dorms. Almost nobody listened but you would still get a charge at the end of the semester for smoke damage to the room. "Hey," I said sleepily, giving her a quick wave and stretching out as I woke up more and more. "Oh hey, sorry. Didn't know you were asleep." She replied. "No problem. I needed to get up anyway." I replied, yawning and sitting up. "Whatcha doing?" She asked me, looking over at the TV. "Just relaxing. You?" I asked. "Nothing just finished hanging out with Tanner." She said, "Cool," I mumbled, closing out the random documentary that was playing. As I backed out the search results of my messy escape popped on screen. "What was that?" She asked. "Um... don't know. Just some random shit." I lied. "You know you don't need to lie, that blanket's kind of falling off and I can put two and two together. It's your TV too, you can watch whatever you want." She said, looking a little hurt that I lied to her face. "Not to mention I do it too, you've caught me before." She chuckled. "I'm going to go ahead and change into one myself, I've been dying to ever since I got out of the final period and had to take the one I had on today off to go to Tanner's." She said as she started walking towards her bedroom. "Oh, all right. Well, I'm going to go ahead and get dressed and head out." I said as I got up, rolling the blanket up into a ball and putting it at the foot of the couch. "Where are you going?" She asked, just out of polite curiosity. "I'm probably going to go to the bar and hang out there for a while. There've been some cute guys there recently and I'm going to see if some of them will buy me a drink." I giggled as I started pulling on a gown-style dress. "Are you going to change?" She asked, looking down towards my waist. "No, this one still has plenty of use left on it and I don't want to risk pissing myself if I get drunk. Plus, it feels too good to take off right now. Is it noticeable under the dress?" I asked, turning around so she could see the back. "Not exactly, it does make your ass look a little bigger but it doesn't look like a diaper bulge. But you should probably use some perfume, I can tell you've been sitting in it for a while. It's starting to get that stink." She said, handing me a bottle of one of her favorite perfumes. "Thanks. And yeah, I kind of lost it coming home and it was a bit more intentional before I went to sleep." I chuckle, giving the back of my diaper a bit of a squeeze. I could feel the massive lump that was still sitting in the back of my diaper. I gauged how my bladder felt and decided to give a small push. As soon as I did I started flooding the diaper again. I leaned back a little bit so it would run towards the dry filling in the rear and even out the swelling. I also didn't want it leaking out the front leg garters when I started walking. I let out a sigh of relief as I felt the pressure release from my bladder. "Feel better?" She asked me, trying not to laugh at my dazed expression. "Yeah, much better," I said as I pulled the belt up a little more and readjusted the waistband. The sag had almost made a gap at the leg garters from my tossing and turning but was much better now. "Well, I guess I'll see you when you get back then." She said as she grabbed one of the diapers out of our storage and headed to her room. I grabbed the powder off the shelf and blew a few good-sized clouds into the back of the diaper to try and mask any odor. Then I doused the entire front of my torso in the warm vanilla sugar perfume. After I was finally done I readjusted my dress and let it flow back over my frame. I gave my thighs a quick squeeze to make sure any mess that had worked its way to the middle of the diaper was put where it belonged. I got in my car and went to a local bar that served mostly college students and some locals. As I got out I did one last check in my side view mirror to make sure nothing was visible and walked inside. I went ahead and sat down at the first booth I went by. The cushiony seats and backrest made it easier to hide what I was wearing. As I sat down I heard something that made my heart race. The soft, only slightly muffled crinkle. I gently put my hand on the top of my waist and I felt that I'd never put my diaper cover back on. I quietly panicked as I wondered if my situation would be given away if I got hammered and tried to get up or worse, fell. I debated whether or not to text my roomie to bring me my cover in her purse and meet me in the bathroom. But I eventually decided that this could be an exciting new experience. I ordered a glass of whiskey on the rocks and began sipping it slowly. As I did I glanced around to see if anyone was looking at me. I thought I saw someone glance at me once but I couldn't be sure. I continued sipping on the drink until my paranoia started to fade. I let out a soft sigh and leaned back. As I did I could feel some of my mess being compressed against the top of my ass down to where my thighs met the seat. I had to stop myself before I let out a small moan because of just how good it felt. My thighs gently squeezed together as I tried to force even more of it to squish against me. As I relished the feeling, I could feel a slight twinge in the lower part of my stomach. I thought there was no way I could have anything left after leaving class and getting off back at home. But my stomach was making it very clear that it wasn't the case. I ordered another drink and paid a bit of attention to the pressure building up. When the waitress finally brought over a fresh glass of whiskey I waited until she left to get up and walk towards the restroom. I had to steady myself as I walked, and I think I had to have been swaying a little bit. I opened the door to the lady's room and closed it behind me. I quickly looked around to make sure nobody was in there and locked the door. I went into a stall and closed the door locking that as well and pulled my dress up back around my waist. I pulled the bottom hem of it through the collar so that way I could make sure it wouldn't fall. The cramping and my stomach started moving lower and lower towards my colon until finally, it was begging to come out. I squatted down, braced myself against the door, and started pushing. I half expected liquid Hershey squirts to start shooting out but it felt like something much firmer was trying to push through. I took a deep breath and pushed with everything I had. Almost like it was pressurized, the thick log barreled out of me and mashed itself into the well-flattened and squished shit I had taken earlier. I could feel the weight and sheer size of it pulling on the diaper even more. I finally decided that I would need the cover after all. The bliss I was feeling with this new load was beyond words. And I had no intention of taking this thing off and throwing it away in a public place. Thankfully I always kept my phone in my bra and I texted my roomie. Me: Hey, do you think you can bring that cover to me, I'm in the bathroom at Michael's Tap. I don't think this thing is going to survive without it. Roomie: Sure, that's the bar about 4 miles off of campus right? Me: Yeah, just knock on the door when you get here. I have it locked, I had to take a huge shit. Roomie: OK, I'll be there in ten minutes. I stood up and tried to readjust myself the best I could. As I came out of the stall untucked my dress and let it fall back down covering the disaster I just unleashed. I looked at the time and groaned as it sunk in that I would be stuck in this bathroom for ten minutes. Hopefully, nobody would come pounding on the door wondering what I was doing. I decided to go and sit down on one of the toilets as I waited. I didn't bother locking it this time since I would have to get up when she got here anyway. I positioned myself so my diaper bulge would fit into the open part of the toilet and got comfortable. Finally, after what felt like hours, I heard the familiar knock we used when going into each other's rooms. I got off the toilet and unlocked the door. She came in with her little purse/tote bag abomination and shut the door behind her. I had never been so happy to see that ugly bag before. She reached in and pulled out a black minky diaper cover. It was one of hers. "Thank you so much, you don't know how much this means. I thought I was going to be stuck in here all night. I gosh I started unraveling the cover, pressing the back of it between my lower back and the wall. "Of course." She said as she started zipping her bag back up, sliding it over her shoulder, and getting ready to head out. I quickly fastened the plastic snaps and adjusted the waistband so it went up to my belly button. Once it was properly on let my dress fall back down to cover my new garment. "Thanks again!" I told her as she opened the door. She smiled at me and walked out. I watched as it slowly closed and did a quick double-check in the mirror. After making sure my dress wasn't tucked into anything I went back out to my table. The rest of the night was a bit of a blur as I ordered at least two more drinks and did some horrible karaoke. When they started doing the last call I gathered myself and called my roommate again. This time I had to think almost four times this hard to get the words out properly. But the jumbled mess that came out roughly translated to "I'm wasted, pick me up, can't drive please." She told me she'd be there in about 10 minutes again and I sat back down at the bar and waited with the bartender. When she finally walked in she came up to me, led me to the door and I jerked away. I stumbled to her car and we drove home. "You know you can't just leave your car in the parking lot. You're lucky I told the bartender to leave a note saying I would be back for it in the morning. They can tow your shit dude. And I know you can't afford to get it out of the lot." She said, chuckling to herself. "Guess it's kind of fitting you're in that diaper, you're acting like such a baby. I took literally two minutes to make sure your car didn't get taken/and you're looking at me like it been hours." She was visibly holding back laughter as she finished her sentence. I rolled my eyes and grumbled to myself that I was not a baby. I could hear a slight chuckle/snort as she started dying inside. "Well, you are too! So, why don't you have a diaper on?" I asked, trying to change the subject. She looked at me and shook her head. "You're so wasted that didn't even make sense. I am wearing one dumbass!" She said, laughing at how utterly plastered I was. "You saw me grab one off the shelf before you left for the bar." She reminded me. I crossed my arms and huffed. I looked like a spoiled brat who got told no as she drove us home. When we finally got back to the dormitory I struggled to get out of the car. She helped me out of the seat and guided me as I stumbled towards the elevator. She led me as I stumbled towards the elevator. She helped me inside, pressed the button for our floor and once we were there nearly drug me to the door to our room. We both entered and she turned around to lock the door. "Ok, we're finally home." She said as she pointed to the couch. I sat down and felt how insanely comfortable my full diaper was. Giving out a little sigh I fully relaxed into the cushions. While it was sitting there my roommate came back with two mugs, both filled with hot chamomile tea. She handed me one and started sipping her own as she sat down in the little side chair. Realizing how dry my mouth felt and the disgusting taste I started sipping the tea. It was really sweet in a good way. Plus the actual warmth felt better than the artificial heat from the alcohol. As I started finishing the glass I could feel my arms getting heavier and heavier. At some point, my roommate must have taken the cup from my hands and put it on the table. After a few times of my head drooping and snapping myself awake I decided to give in and lay down on my side. I grabbed the same blanket I used earlier in the day and wrapped myself back up. My roommate grabbed the TV remote put on some video game Let's Play and started watching it, keeping the volume low. "Aren't you going to change out of that thing?" She asked, looking at me confused. I shook my head and pulled my knees closer to my chest until I was almost in the fetal position. "It's too much work and besides it's comfortable. I'll just change in the morning." I mumbled to her as I started drifting off more and more. "Well, I hope that thing at least has one or two more uses out of it because I don't want to clean that out of the couch again. It's bad enough when I do it but you're cleaning up your mess." She replied, knowing there was no point in arguing with me. I tried to listen to as much of the video as I could until I finally drifted off to sleep.

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This story was written as part of The 3rd Kasarberang's NON-CONtest. Hi guys! The story won the second price of 100$, which has already been received. Thanks to Kasarberang and all of you for the support! A Husband's Regression Oliver sat on the floor surrounded by his baby jail, or as mommy called it, playpen. His diaper, as always, was wet; a pacifier in his mouth and a ridiculous bonnet attached to his head. It would be impossible for anyone to confuse him with the successful businessman he had been a few months ago. No one would even think this pathetic man had once been a husband, a father, a respected man. And yet, in Oliver's mind, those memories were as fresh as if it had been a day ago. Memories of driving his luxurious car. Memories of fucking his sexy wife. Memories of everything he lost. "Why don't we have a glass of wine, and you tell me everything that happened between you and," said Julia, pausing to glare at Oliver's predicament, "Well, Oliver." She was a pretty lady, a couple of years younger than Oliver. Nothing special. Not like his wife or, eh, mommy. He couldn't call her any other way anymore. Not unless he wanted to spend the evening on her lap. Claudia was a beautiful woman, thirty-five and still looking radiant. Even with her pregnant belly, she was by far the most beautiful woman Oliver's ever seen. "Oh, it all happened so fast for little Oli. I don't think he realized it until it was over," said Claudia, receiving a glass of wine from her friend. "What happened to him?" "Little Oli here made Mommy angry. Do you remember it, Oli?" Oliver tried to look away, but he knew Mommy wouldn't like that. He hated it whenever she talked about his downfall. It had been such a stupid thing. An office party, and it wasn't really his fault. She came onto him, his assistant. Claudia knew it. But she still got angry. Yeah, it's true he had been flirty with Sophia before, but it was all platonic. The girl was almost twenty years younger than him. Any sane man would've flirted a little bit, even if it led to nothing. Though now Oliver wished it had led to nothing. It would've changed everything. "So he had an affair?" Asked Julia, pouring even more wine into her glass. "He did. The little stinker claims he never even touched her, but Sophia confessed. If you think Oliver's fate was bad, you should see her." "What did you do to her?" Oliver knew now about what had happened. Claudia's plan had been flawless, but if there was anything he regretted the most was what happened to Sophia. Sighing, he moved enough to allow himself to pee his diaper more comfortably. "That I'll show you later. For now, why don't we focus on Oli?" Claudia asked. Julia nodded enthusiastically. She had never been fond of Oliver. In fact, she had even argued against him when Claudia announced their marriage. The good old days. "So, what happened when you found out about the affair?" "My husband had cheated on me, and I wanted payback. But more than anything, I wanted to humiliate him. Divorcing him wouldn't have been enough, so…" "So he agreed to be put back in diapers just because?" Claudia giggled, "No. Not immediately. It was a bit more complex than just forcing him to wear them and act like a baby. I got the idea from a bizarre story I found once." "I think someone's filling his diaper for Mommy. What time is it?" "Uhm, almost two. Why?" Asked Julia, now a bit tipsy. "Oliver's meal. My breasts are screaming for release." "Release? Your breasts? What?" Oliver knew what she meant. Sitting in his baby prison, his lips were working against him. They wanted something he despised, something he hated. And yet, part of him craved the sweet nectar of his wife's breasts. He would never forget the first time he tasted them. That very first night, he had been forced to suck on her nipples while diapered. He had not eaten anything for an entire day, and he would not eat anything unless he did what Claudia wanted, and she wanted to breastfeed him. And so he did, with tears in his eyes he did, and what was worst, he didn't completely hate it. "You'll see in a few minutes. I try to feed him at the same time every day, it creates a sense of stability, and that's important for babies. Anyway, where were we?" Claudia asked, pausing for a second to glare at the man that was once her husband, "Oh, right. How did we get here?" "Wait, wait. Do you breastfeed him? How do you produce milk?" "It took some work, but there are some treatments you can get to induce milk production. It's a bit expensive and medical. Worth it, though." "If you say so," said Julia, looking a bit disgusted but too engaged in the story to leave it there, "So, how did you get him to accept all of this?" "Easy. I made him think he needed it." "Made him think he needed to be traded like a baby?" Claudia took a sip of her glass of wine, and with a devilish smile, she winked at her former husband. "Remember the accidents, honey?" Asked Claudia about the baby that was once her husband. Oliver looked away. He remembered everything that led to his downfall. It began a couple of months before. One night Claudia surprised him with a glass of wine when he came back from work. A glass turned into two, then four. The next morning he woke up soaked. Claudia wasn't pleased, but she didn't make a big fuss out of it. Instead, she treated him better that morning. Better than she had in a while. However, it wasn't the end of it. That very same night, she gave him a beer while they ate. Nothing fancy, but it was a nice gesture. He didn't think twice. But the next morning, he woke up with a wet bed again. And once again, Claudia seemed fine with it. Somehow, she seemed happier about it. And when it happened again and again, Oliver began to worry about his health. "And then it happened during the day. Your first accident during the day, and it was public. Wasn't it, Oli?" Asked Claudia with that devilish smile he hated. Oliver looked down. It had been a busy day at work. Kendall, his assistant, a young and ambitious man, had given him a glass of water right before an important meeting. Nothing odd about it. It was the way he liked to start his meetings, hydrated. But he didn't know back then what he knew now. And so he drank and went straight to present the reports for that semester. Twenty minutes in, he felt a slight tinkle in his penis, something warm against his crotch, and then a liquid sensation running down his legs. It was over in a matter of seconds, and everyone in the room went silent. And it remained silent until Oliver realized what had happened and rushed out of the room, leaving a puddle of his urine behind. "He wet himself at work?" Asked Julia. "He did," said Claudia as tears began forming in Oliver's eyes. "How? How did you get him to pee himself at night and in front of his colleagues?" "A combination of loop diuretics." "Loop what?" Asked Julia. "Drugs, honey. Drugs that make it impossible for the body to absorb certain minerals, so they just passed straight through the body." Their eyes turned to Oliver, who was now sobbing because he knew what happened after. And because he now knew why it happened. He took the week off after his accident to make sure there were no health issues, but the doctor had simply said that there wasn't a physical problem with him. If he was having accidents, then it must be phycological. And he was dragged to a therapist by his wife, though, surprisingly, she seemed sympathetic to the whole thing. Their marriage had been paying through a rocky spot, and yet, here they were, together like a couple dealing with a problem. Perhaps it wouldn't be that bad. But Oliver didn't know better back then. "What did the therapist say? And how did you get the doctor to miss the drugs in his system?" "Money," said Claudia, matter-of-factly, "Buying yourself a doctor is just as easy as getting a new car. And, of course, little Oli here left us with quite a large amount of money." "So, what happened next?" "Well, the therapist we went to was a friend of mine. She knew what I wanted and why, and she was more than happy to help." "How did she help? What did you do? Stop being so vague," said Julia, giggling as she raised her four glass of wine. "Her name's Clara, and she planted the little bug in Oli's head. She said that there was no real reason why a man his age should be having potty accidents, and she said potty to make a clear point. So, Oli was having them because, subconsciously, he wanted." "Did he fall for that?" Claudia shook her head, "Not right away. Of course, I acted shocked and disgusted. But I let Clara take charge at that moment. She simply stated that Oli might be burned out with all the stress of a high-profile job. I mean, it's not like he didn't have terrible neck and shoulder pain already. And as she kept explaining why she thought that, Oli's expression shifted from anger and distrust to looking more like a beaten puppy. And that's when she suggested a new and revolutionary treatment. Regression. Or, in other words, being treated like a baby for a while." "And he accepted?" "Being a baby? Not quite. Not yet, but that's how I planned it. You see, Oli needed one last push into complete babyhood. Something that would make him understand he wasn't an adult anymore, or at least, he didn't want to be one." "What did you do?" "Well, Oli already had an accident in public. But that was contained, and his colleagues just thought he had some sickness or something. Now it was time to push him further. And by further, I mean stepping up the game from number one to…" Oliver tried to block her words, but he could do nothing to block his memories. Even now, just thinking about it was traumatic. He sighed behind his pacifier. "Number two? You mean," Julia paused, a look of disgust on her face," Oh, my." Claudia nodded. And if it had been just one day ago, the image of that day came rushing into Oliver's mind. A beautiful day, sunny and breeze. Perfect for a 4th of July BBQ. Oliver's son, Eric, and his girlfriend, Linda, were part of the crowd that included neighbors, friends, family, and some employees, like Kendall. All of them celebrate and drink and smoke, and enjoy. Even Oliver had stopped thinking about his accidents and diagnosis for a moment, just being present and happy. And that changed quickly after eating. It began like a little rumble in his stomach, which soon turned into a terrible pain and cold shivers that could only mean one thing. "I've heard about it!" Said Julia, "But I thought they were joking or exaggerating." "It probably was as bad, if not worst, than what you might have heard." It was, though, Oliver, and a familiar feeling in his tummy and bowels rushed through him without any objection. A loud fart echoed in the room, a wet one. Julia giggled, but Claudia looked at him with pride in her eyes. What followed was a minute of Oliver squatting right where he was, pushing with little effort, to then feel the warm and soft yes spreading through his crotch. Then he sat right on it as it reached his most private area. There was no fighting it. There was no reason to fight it. If he did, all he would earn was discomfort. And once it was done, he could do nothing but cry. "Did he just…" "He did," said Claudia, chuckling, "Just like how it happened that day. Minus the attire. Though the crying is spot on." "Eww." She was right, though. Oliver had not made it to the bathroom that fateful 4th of July. He stood up, walked a couple of feet, and froze right there in front of his son and daughter-in-law-to-be and in front of everyone that held him in any esteem. And like a toddler, he soiled himself. And like a toddler, he couldn't do anything but cry. And that was it. After what happened, he couldn't really argue the diagnosis. Did he really want to be a baby? Of course not. But he didn't know it had all been Claudia's fault back then. No. He actually believed his subconscious was fucking with him. Claudia grabbed him by the wrist and led him back home, leaving behind the astonished crowd. Oliver just allowed himself to be cleaned by his wife, not even trying to justify his accident. And there was no reason to. Claudia seemed to be okay with what had happened. She even kissed him gently on the forehead, reassuring him that if he truly wanted to be a baby, he needed to decide. She just couldn't handle the whole accident stuff anymore. Either he took the decision to be a baby, or she would take it for him. "And he said yes?" Claudia nodded. "So, what happened after?" Oliver didn't need to hear Claudia's answer. He had experienced it firsthand. That very same day, he was put on his first diaper by his loving wife. It didn't occur to him why she already had diapers ready to go, but he was too shocked to argue anything. So he said nothing when she put a onesie on him, mittens on his hands, and knitted booties on his feet. It wasn't until she said people were waiting for him to see if he was doing better that Oliver returned to reality. "No, please. Don't let them see me," he tried to argue, but there was nothing to argue about. Claudia led him downstairs and to a full room that included every person from the BBQ. His son Eric was the first to see him, and the look of disappointment and disgust in his eyes still haunts Oliver to this day. Linda laughed just as he stepped into the living room, and everyone joined her. And Oliver could do nothing but cry. "I wish I could've been there," said Julia. "I have it on tape." "Really?" "Kendall helped me with it. He had known about the entire plan for a while, and well, not only did he get me, but he's now also Oliver's replacement. So I think everything worked out the way we planned it." "And when did Oliver, I mean, Oli, find out you were behind everything that happened?" Claudia giggled, "That was very recent, actually. You see, he already accepted that he subconsciously wanted to be a baby. But I couldn't just drop the truth on him just yet. I needed him to actually enjoy his time as a baby first." "Enjoy it?" "Well. Let's just say little Oli here might be looking for his diaper change. Aren't you, Oli?" Oliver looked away, still sobbing but nodding at the same time. He knew what it meant to be changed. Ever since that fateful day, whenever she or anyone changed him, he got something in return. The mere thought of it made him blush. Of course, he didn't like to admit to himself. But after he had a wet accident for the first time in his diaper, Claudia took him to their bed, and carefully, gently, she began massaging around his little butthole while her other hand played with his minuscule penis. It didn't take long for him to cum. That process was repeated with every change. Though whenever he had a stinky, she would use a magic wand vibrator to achieve his climax. "Eww, he comes from shitting and peeing himself?" Claudia chuckled and nodded. Standing up, Claudia reached for Oliver's playpen, moving around the massive breasts and long legs she possessed. "I think someone's hungry." Oliver blushed. She managed to carry him off the playpen. It would have been a considerable feat had it not been because, after months of barely moving, Oliver was mostly fat and had no muscle. Julia said nothing as the proud wife sat next to her again with the pathetic husband on her lap. "You're getting stronger." "Got into weights a few months ago. And Oliver's not that tall or heavy." "Are you going to feed him now?" Claudia nodded and, wasting no time, she opened her shirt and bra, revealing gorgeous breasts. A surprising feature for someone her age, but Claudia was the epitome of a well-preserved woman in her forties. "Should I come back later?" Asked Julia. "Not at all. Stay, we haven't finished the tale of little Oli." And without hesitation, Oliver latched onto his wife's nipple, sucking and receiving the tasteful liquid her wife had produced for him. A month ago, he would've fought it back, and he did fight back during that first week. But fighting back meant not release, and it meant a torturous spank given to him by his wife's new boyfriend. His former assistant. The man he knew had to call Daddy. No. Oliver wouldn't fight back anymore. No matter who was around them, he would feed, whether it was a stranger or his daughter-in-law, or his very own son. "How do you make milk?" "Hormones. I started the treatment right around the time I decided to regress Oliver. It worked quite well and right on time." "So, what's left to be said about Oli?" "Well, you know about Sophia now. Do you remember what I told you?" "That she got a fate worst than Oliver?" Claudia nodded, making an expression of pain, "Suck softer, Oli, there's plenty of milk for you." But Oliver couldn't. His heartbeat raced whenever Claudia mentioned Sophia. He wished he could've spared her the punishment her wife had decided for her. But he didn't. And had he tried, he would've accomplished nothing. "What's worst than being regressed the way you did with Oliver?" "Oli here is just Oliver being treated like a baby. He thinks like a man still; that's part of his punishment. But if he ever wanted to leave me, he could just do so. The possibility of getting a normal life is still there." "What do you mean? He can decide to stop it?" Claudia nodded, "He's here because he wants to. Well, of course, if he ever left, he would have to start from zero. No money, no car, no house, no wife, no son. Nothing. I actually gave him that choice a few weeks ago." It had been one night after being milked by his wife. Oli was in his playpen pretending to play as he did most of the time when the doorbell rang. Claudia opened the door to reveal his son, Eric, and his wife, Linda. They had an announcement to make. Linda was finally pregnant. It was a time for celebration, but obviously, Oli wasn't allowed to celebrate with them. "You will have someone to have playdates with," said Claudia. "That's gonna be so cute!" Said Linda, "Imagine, your grandchild will be potty trained long before you ever get out of diapers." "If he ever gets out," said Eric, still disgusted at his father's state. "Well, that can be arranged," said Claudia, "Do you want to be allowed to grow back, Oli?" Oliver nodded enthusiastically. "Wait a second. You need to understand what it would mean. I think it's time I'm honest with you. It's more than you deserve, but it was bound to happen." "Honest?" Asked Oliver, still with a pacifier in his mouth, which just made him sound pathetic. "Well, you see. I know all about Sophia." Oliver froze right there. "Don't worry. I've already dealt with her. But I've known for a while now," said Claudia, and she explained everything to Oliver, from the drugs to the doctor and her therapist friend, everything, including Kendall's involvement. He couldn't believe it. Oliver turned to see his son and daughter-in-law but neither moved nor acted surprised. "What?" Asked Eric, "You thought we didn't know? I don't know why Mom didn't just dump your disgusting ass at once, but I guess this works too. Real, don't cheat, Dad. Or, I guess, baby brother." "You have a decision to make. You can have your old life back. Minus me, your son, the house, your job, or any possession. If already ensure of that." Oliver said nothing, looking up at his wife and son, feeling smaller now than he had ever felt. "Or you can stay like this for as long as I please. Let's be honest; it's more natural, isn't it? You were never much of a man anyway. What do you say?" Oliver's breathing was hard, and his vision was slightly blurry. "Anything?" Asked Claudia with her devilish smile. It was just too much for him to deal with. His little mind kinda broke, and his body decided to answer for him. A loud wet fart echoed through the room, followed by the biggest, most stinky mess he had ever done in his life. One that spread all through his crotch in a matter of seconds. "I made oopsies, Mommy." Everyone laughed. Back in the present, Oliver opened his eyes; he was still attached to his wife's nipple. Claudia and Julia were still giggling about his downfall. And his diaper was still full of his own shit. It was a surprise to him that it had not leaked yet. "I think it's time to change him. And it's also time to show you what happened to little Sophia." Julia stood up with difficulty after her fifth glass of wine, "This I have to see." A few minutes later, they were inside a large room in the house. A nursery, for all intents and purposes, with two large cribs inside and a giant changing table. Why two? Well, that was answered as soon as they got close enough to see what lay inside. A young woman, no older than twenty-five, was sleeping in her crib. Her diaper was also full, almost leaking, and she was sucking on her thumb even though she had a pacifier right next to her. "Is that…Wait. Is that the mistress?" Asked Julia, slightly bit tipsy. "Indeed." Oliver looked away. He hated looking at Sophia now, even though he had loved to do so before. She was gone, though. The pretty girl everyone wanted that he actually got. What remained was not even a shell of her former self. Sophia was now no more than a toddler, newborn, for that matter. He couldn't think about anything else but cooking on her thumb while she drooled. And she had no memory of being an accomplished young woman. No memory of the time they shared together. There was nothing left of Sophia. "When are you going to tell me what happened with her?" "Maybe another day," said Claudia, placing Oliver over the changing table, "Right now, it's time for Oli to make some cummies. Right, Oli?" Oliver blushed, nodding and sucking on his pacifier. He surrendered. Sophia had not chosen her fate, but he was more than willing to play along with it. Maybe they were right. It was just natural to him. Maybe, just maybe, being a baby wasn't the worst possible punishment. And he smiled as he felt the hard vibration of her wife's milking device against his padded crotch. And he closed his eyes in pleasure, forgetting everything else. ............................................. Hey guys! This story is free for everyone because of the contest. If you want to read more stories with similar themes or you prefer female regression, including mothers, teachers, and older sisters, you can subscribe to my website: The Padded Playground

This is a re-upload of a story I did not write. https://www.diaper-bois.com/stories/ryan-s-new-daddy/ Chapter 1 - One Confused Boy To say that Ryan Willis didn’t know quite what he was getting himself into was a massive understatement. Agreeing to surrender himself for an entire summer to the whims of a complete stranger is one thing, but when that person intends to treat you as his infant child for that time… well, you’d probably think you were completely fuckin’ bonkers as well, like he did. Some background information is probably necessary here. Ryan Willis was a pretty unassuming guy. Fairly freshly 18 and graduating high school; he was fairly popular, well-built from years of intensive hockey playing (the last year he spent as captain of the school’s team), and certainly no slouch in the looks department with his deep hazel eyes, fair features, and deep brown locks, always styled perfectly. Indeed, he had all the girls at school fawning after him. He got respectable grades that would have no trouble getting him into his college of choice, made no enemies, and was always home in time for tea. For all intents and purposes, Ryan was just a normal kid. But of course, as is typical for stories like these, he wasn’t. Ryan had a secret deep inside. Well, really, he had two secrets. The first; he was gay. A complete and utter raging homosexual. He’d had a girlfriend, sure, but him and Elise broke up a little while ago; thankfully before things got serious enough that his cover might be blown. Regardless, one thing was for sure: every time he ended up in the changing rooms after a sweaty game of hockey with his team was a massive struggle for dominance between his libido and his shame. All those rippling, hockey-player bodies, and the way they’d shower naked… Ryan had to start getting changed by himself after everyone had left by the end of it. They could never know; it was just how it had to be. No one could know, in fact; not his parents, not his younger sisters, not his friends, no one. He was Ryan Willis, star hockey player and future Harvard Law graduate, and he was expected to find himself a trophy wife and pop out a few kids in the future. He couldn’t fuck it up by being a faggot, as his dad would call him no doubt. But that was practically nothing compared to his other secret. See, not only was Ryan gay, but he was in what was called the ABDL community; specifically, he was what some termed a “teen baby”. Basically, Ryan enjoyed the idea of wearing diapers, playing with baby things, and being treated like an infant, preferably by an older, larger, stronger man. It was the cornerstone of his fantasies, and the thing he dreamed about every night he went to bed. In a way, ever since he got out of diapers, he’s dreamed of getting back into them. He’d spent countless hours in his teen years holed up in his room, door locked, jerking off over young guys in diapers and baby clothes, or reading stories about guys being forced into diapers by another man, always imagining himself in their place. Sure, he could get off over normal vanilla gay porn, and bottoming for another guy was something he desired too, but as soon as he threw diapers into the mix, his libido went nuts. Regardless, his fantasies always involved being dominated by an older man, a father figure as it were. It was nothing to do with his own father issues, or so he hoped. It was just how he was wired. In addition, he was a regular on all the usual ABDL haunts and forums. But this bummed Ryan out more often that it should - he saw all the guys his age freely wearing diapers and baby stuff and having people to change them and care for them, and though he always found it hot as hell, he couldn’t help but also feel intensely jealous. He knew he would never be able to get that. He was just too terrified that someone might recognise him on the internet, and his secret would be out, and his life would be over just like that. Being gay was one thing, but being a gay freak obsessed with diapers… He spared no expense in covering his tracks. He didn’t dare buy diapers or even training pants to live out his fantasies in real life, such was his fear of being caught. Bottles and pacifiers and the lot were out of the question as well. He even bought a second laptop, unbeknownst to the rest of his family, and used an anonymous browser on it to ensure that they could never find out. He brought the laptop out when he was sure no one was home, and went loose, but when he was done, or someone came home, he quickly locked it up and hid it underneath a loose floorboard under his bed. He had it all under lock; no one could find out. But this all led to Ryan feeling incredibly lonely. He knew that he wasn’t the only one with this weird fixation, but his paranoia meant he feared he’d probably never be able to actually experience his most desired fantasy. And of course, he was constantly racked with guilt, something that plagued practically everything ABDL in the course of their lifetime… the insistent, nagging thought that what you were doing, what you found enjoyable was actually a disgusting perversion, and only one degree of separation away from pedophilia. Of course it was ridiculous, he reasoned, but it didn’t really matter - if anyone found out, that’s exactly what they would think of him. However, everything changed in April of his senior year, not too long before graduation… Chapter 2 - Diaperlist It was a crisp, early Spring night, the sort you’d only ever get in good ol’ New England, when Ryan discovered Diaperlist. His parents were out for their anniversary dinner, and Jemma and Becca (his sisters) were out with their friends or boyfriends or whatever - he didn’t really care, all it meant for him was quality time alone with his fantasies. One of his closest teen baby friends (who lived on the other side of the country, a shame since he looked so cute in diapers) had posted a link on one of his favourite haunts, Teen Baby Hangout: “A cool new website I’ve developed. Sorta like Craigslist obviously, but just for us, so much less chance of us being found out. Plus it’s got a fully functional Facebook-esque messaging system, so you can shoot the shit before you decide if you wanna meet up for real. It’s invite only, so PM me for an invite if we’re friends. I wanna keep this safe, so I’ll only give you access if I fully trust you. And obviously, give out invites if you trust anyone else. I don’t really care if I offend anyone by not giving them an invite, security’s more important. I’ve posted this on all the other ABDL and fetish sites so it’s not just us. Otherwise, go crazy!! Meet all the ABDL/TBDL/whatever’s you’re legally entitled to in your home country or jurisdiction!” Intrigued, Ryan went to PM the guy, but he had already sent him an invite. Feeling rather touched at the thought, Ryan sent a “thank you” and signed up to the site. Already, there were a couple dozen posts, all sorted by geographical area. A handful in the UK, Canada, and other parts of Europe and Australia each, even one in Kyrgyzstan (poor dude), but naturally, the large majority were focused on the good ol’ US of A. Ryan’s heart skipped a beat when he saw that there were 5 listings for Massachusetts… and it caught up to speed again when he found out they were all for Boston. ‘Of course’, he reasoned. He probably wouldn’t know what to do if anyone in the Springfield, MA area actually wanted to meet up. Nonetheless, he looked at the listings for Boston, if only out of curiosity. They were all pretty much the same - “45yo Daddy looking for little girl to pamper ;)”. Very lovely, but hardly what he was looking for. And so, after that brief detour, Ryan’s “secret session”, as he called it, played out much like it normally did - he went on Tumblr, checked up on all his favourite blogs, had a good old-fashioned fap over one of the hotter diaper boys there, came, cleaned up, hid the evidence and went on with his life. “Hey Ryan!” a voice called out from outside his window, just as he placed the laptop under the floorboards. He just about leapt out of his skin. He didn’t even have any pants on! “Just a minute!” he said back, quickly throwing on a pair of raggy sweatpants. He went to the window and opened it to see his best friend, Jeremy Linnard, tossing rocks at his window. “Are you here to serenade me, Jeremy?” Ryan said jokingly. “I have a confession to make, Ryan,” Jeremy said in a faux-dramatic fashion. With a flourish, he mimed producing flowers and said in a dovey voice, “I… l-love you…” “Fuck off, ya faggot,” Ryan laughed, tossing his rocks back at him. Jeremy laughed as well, dodging his shots (or at least trying to). God, if only Jeremy knew. “Alright, alright, you wanna go bowling? Me and Sarah were bored and she’s fetching all her girl friends. Cynthia’s gonna be there too, big boy…” Oh right, Ryan thought. Her. See, in Ryan’s usual attempts to assert his masculinity and obvious heterosexuality, he had to pretend that he was interested in a girl. And so, choosing completely at random, he picked Cynthia to be his fake object of affection, a fairly plain but agreeable girl, not unattractive by any means. ‘Dammit,’ he thought to himself, ‘shoulda picked someone totally impossible.’ Not like that was easy, though - every goddamn girl in school would’ve probably dropped their pants for him in a heartbeat. “Sure, sure,” Ryan said. “Just gimme a minute.” Chucking on whatever was at the bottom of his clean clothes hamper (thanks ma!), Ryan went bowling with his best friend. He coolly played hard-to-get with Cynthia, which was really quite easy since he genuinely wasn’t interested, but it wasn’t as suspicious as outright turning her down. When he got back, his parents and sisters were home, so he couldn’t allow himself another secret session, to his dismay. He went to bed that night thinking about Diaperlist, however. He wondered if this might be his way to finally meet someone who was like him. Maybe when he went to Harvard in the fall, he could meet a friend… a “big bro”, or something. Or even a Daddy…? No, that was ridiculous. Just a fantasy, he reasoned. Something that could not happen. Friends, probably. But he couldn’t count on his deepest, dearest fantasy coming true just like that. And so, Ryan went on about his life. School, hockey, friends, secret sessions, sleep, rinse, repeat. Every now and then, he’d check up on Diaperlist, just to remind him of what might happen some day. He saw listings come and go day by day. Sometimes he’d check other areas, just to see what others were posting. He saw listings like “19yo smooth baby boy looking for Daddy” (same here pal), “mommy looking for obedient boy for kinky humiliating fun” (close, not quite), “60yo luvvving generou$$$ daddy after teen girl to spoil and pamper” (uhh)… But ultimately, it was what kept him going through his finals - the knowledge that getting through, and making it into college would enable him to get a good career and all, sure, but also give him an excuse to get away from home and maybe meet someone who understood. Well, fate sure did a number on him one particularly humid night about a month later. Ryan was stripped down to just a tank top, getting ready to fap away as usual. He logged onto Diaperlist, went to the Massachusetts section and read the listing at the top of the page, only posted three hours ago. “43yo, Springfield MA - dominant Daddy looking for <20yo fully submissive little boy. READ FIRST.” Ryan just about leapt out of his skin when he read that headline. Was he hallucinating? Dreaming? Nope, he pinched himself and he definitely wasn’t dreaming. That was really what it said. His heart was racing when he finally built up the courage to click and read the profile. “I’m a well-off semi-retired professional in the southern MA area. Looking for a cute, healthy, toned and FULLY submissive boy (no exceptions for any of those) under the age of 20 who is interested in becoming my baby boy. Message me if interested. Must provide pics.” That was it. Ryan was dumbstruck, but more than that, he was hard as a rock. Was this for real?! He didn’t know what the hell to do. Jesus Christ. He resolved to message him anyway, even if he hardly planned on actually meeting him. Maybe he could just entertain the fantasy for fapping fodder. It was sure making him horny as fuck just thinking about it, anyway. He opened the message tab and started typing, one-handed of course. >Hey there, I’m baby_ryry as you probably notice. I’m interested. Tell me more about what you would do to me. Send. He waited for a reply. Didn’t take long; under a minute in fact. Heart pounding, he opened it. >>I’ll show you mine if you show me yours. Damn it. He wanted a pic. Ryan scoured his school’s website for the hockey team photos. He found a decent one of him, topless even, celebrating their victory earlier this year. He cropped his face out of it, and sent it off. >Here you go 😉 [photo attached] >>Nice pic… >>But that’s not quite what I want. Face pic. Shit. He really wanted to know what he would do to him. It’s like when you’re really goddamn horny and you find the perfect porn (or the perfect diaper picture set, in Ryan’s case), but it’s behind a paywall and you can’t find it anywhere else. You either cum quickly and get over it, or you submit to your horny desires and pay up. Unsurprisingly, Ryan chose the latter in this case. A few naughty selfies later, he sent them off to the mysterious man online. Pretty cute as well; Ryan had a fairly youthful face, so it lent itself well to a childish pout, especially with his naked butt sticking right up in the air. “I’ll save that for some porn Tumblrs,” he said to himself. Pause. Then a notification sound. >>Adorable boy. >>Tell me more about yourself. The long game, Ryan smirked to himself. Fair enough. >My name’s Ryan. I’m 18, turning 19 next January. I’m going to Harvard in the fall after I graduate high school to study English. I play hockey, and well, I guess you could say I’m a real teen baby, obviously haha. Smooth, Ryan thought to himself. He was reminded of those icebreaker games you had to play at a new job or school or something, where you say something interesting about yourself but you just can’t think of anything at all to say. >>Very nice. >>Would you like to know what I’d do to you? Aw yeah. This was what he wanted. >Yes please. >>I would make you mine. >>I would be strict, dominant and very controlling; but that’s what is needed. >>You will obey everything I tell you to do, wear anything that I dress you in, play with whatever I give you to play with, and submit to your Daddy’s every whim. >>You will not protest, or talk back. >>You will do this, because that’s what you are. >>You are just a helpless little baby. >>And babies, especially baby boys, need structure, discipline and routine. >>They need to depend on their Daddy for everything - changing, bathing, feeding. >>And they need to be punished when they’re naughty babies who disobey their Daddy. >>And when they’re good babies who make Daddy proud, they will be rewarded. >>But most of all, they need love. And that is what I would give you. >>I will love you like any good Daddy loves their precious little boy. >>All I ask is that you submit your entire self to my authority. Ryan was so incredibly aroused by this. He had to slow down to stop himself from cumming, he was just so close. And then another message. >>What are you doing now? >At home, chilling. >Why? ‘A great liar I am’, Ryan smirked >>You should come over. >>[location shared] Oh Jesus. This guy was serious. Ryan’s heart was pounding again. He looked at the map that was shared. It was in a fairly small township about 50 minutes away from Springfield; fairly rich and full of yuppies. He looked to his side table, where he kept his car keys. What if… >But what will happen? >>Why don’t you come over and find out. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck! FUUUUUCK! Far too quickly, Ryan ejaculated harder than he had done in months. He shot himself in the eye even, making himself jump. His heart pounding, and his body still spasming slightly, the message box was still there, flashing with the new message. Ah, damnit. He shouldn’t have said anything. Now he’s gonna have to let him down easy. He tried to think of an excuse. >Sorry, I can’t tonight. Just thought I’d say hi. I’m super busy with study for finals and graduation. ‘That sounded so flaky,’ Ryan thought. Ping. >>That’s a shame. But I understand. >Thanks for understanding! No reply. Guess he blew it. Chapter 3 - The Offer After that, the mysterious man seemed to go quiet. In fact, he didn’t even come online. A week later, Ryan logged in again, nervous to see if he had any new messages… but he didn’t. He checked the listing again - still up. “Last online: 1 week ago”. Weird. Did Ryan’s flakiness make him give up on his search? Or maybe he actually found someone willing to go through with it… lucky bastard, in that case. Once again, he settled into a routine… one that was swiftly shaken up when finals came round for real. Reluctantly, he had to put his secret sessions on hold for a while so he could concentrate on cramming for tests. Mom helped out a lot by baking him some good old fashioned nerve-calming Russian fudge (thanks ma) and Dad helped by… well, being Dad, which is to say he didn’t really help. Great. But he couldn’t stop thinking about the man. He didn’t even get to see his face. What if he wasn’t even real, Ryan thought…? Just some sick pervo wanting to trap someone and murder them? …or a cop trying to catch perverts? What on Earth would the cop do when an actual 18-year-old kid turned up? More than anything though, Ryan couldn’t stop thinking, “What if he was for real? What if I had actually gone round there, and let him have his way with me? What if he… diapered me?” Every time he jerked off before he went to sleep, he couldn’t stop kicking himself, wishing he really had just gone round. But after he came, he would always remember his family. How would he explain where he had gone? “Hey sorry Mom and Dad, I just popped out to meet a complete stranger who’s twice my age so he could put me in diapers and treat me like a fuckin’ toddler.” It was never meant to happen. Finally, after a week and a half of sleepless nights, crying over incomprehensible notes, and general procrastination, Ryan made it through finals alive and well. Graduation would come in a few weeks, and the after-party of course. But what Ryan was looking forward to most of all was his first secret session in about a month. God, he was backed up. The next morning, Mom and Dad left for work, and the girls went out shopping or something, he didn’t care. They barely left the driveway before Ryan had his laptop (and his dick) out, eager for some good old-fashioned infantilist fappage. But first, as per routine, he checked the Diaperlist. The listing was gone. Ryan sighed. Too good to be true. He probably found someone else. He went to close the tab, and then… Ping. >>Hello there. It was him. Ryan didn’t know what to say. >Hi x That little kiss at the end; always smooth. >>Your finals are all over now, aren’t they? >Yup! Sure are, thank God 😛 >>That’s good. I suppose graduation’s not far behind either. >Absolutely. >>Well then, I have something to ask you. Ryan’s heart was practically leaping out of his chest. Was he going to ask him to come over again? >>Actually, it’s more of an offer. >What is it? >>I want you to come and stay with me and be my baby boy for two weeks over summer break. Ryan stopped dead in his tracks. His first, primal gut instinct was to smash “YES!” into the keyboard and race right over. But his second thought was, “What the hell.” >Are you serious? >>100%. >What do you mean? >>Simple. >>You will live in my house, obey all of my rules, and call me Daddy. >>You will be under my authority 24/7 for the entire stay, no exceptions. >>If you want to leave at any time, you can. I do have rules for you to follow, and some are quite strict. >>But I will provide you a warm, caring and loving environment for you to simply be yourself in. >>You will receive nourishing, nutritious meals, and provided with ample entertainment. >>You can live your wildest baby fantasy without any fear of judgement. >>Because your Daddy will be right here to change you if needed. Oh my God. This was for real. This man was genuinely offering Ryan a chance to live out his ultimate fantasy. But of course, reality kicked in. >I need to make money over summer. I can’t not work for two weeks. >>I can compensate you for any lost income. >>I am retired early, but I am very well-off. >>This means I can devote myself entirely to your care. 24/7. ‘Don’t tempt me!’ Ryan snapped. >What about my friends and family? >>That’s up to you. >>It’s only two weeks after all, I’m sure they’ll cope. >>And that’s my offer. >>Take it or leave it. Ryan’s head was spinning. In fact, the worst part was that he was already thinking of an excuse to tell his parents! He couldn’t possibly do this. No, he just couldn’t. No! It’s not happening. >I’ll think about it. >>Of course. Just let me know. Ryan couldn’t even concentrate on jerking off. He paced the room, trying to calm down. On the one hand, he thought about how boring it would be to just be a baby for two weeks. But then, of course, he realised that it would actually be the most exciting, erotic thing he could ever imagine. And really, what else would he do over summer? Watch TV and jerk off? While that sounds nice, it’s not exciting like being someone’s baby boy for a few weeks. He could just tell his parents that he and his friends were going on a cross-country road trip to Miami for two weeks. That’s the sort of spontaneous thing he and his friends would probably do. And… uh, he could just tell his friends that he and his family were going on a cross-country road trip to Colorado. That’s the sort of spontaneous thing he and his family would probably do. They would believe it. He could get away with it… Fuck! He can’t possibly be entertaining this thought. Nope, he can’t do it. That’s it. He’s just gonna have to tell the man, “Thanks but no thanks”. Yep, that’s what he’s gonna do. >Yes. I’ll do it. >>Good. >>I will arrange a time for you to come after graduation. >>We will sort details out then. >One more question. >>What is it, little boy? >What’s your name? >>It doesn’t matter. All I am is “Daddy” to you for these two weeks. >>Let your friends and family know now, okay? >Yes. >>Yes, what? >Yes Daddy. >>Good boy. Chapter 4 - Graduation Ryan had been having dreams about being put into diapers and cradled by a loving, muscular beefy man for years, and now it was going to happen any day now. He really couldn’t believe what he was doing. He even convinced the skeptical part of his mind to go along with it - if he didn’t like what was happening, he could just call it quits, like the man said. And it was only two weeks after all. If he turns up and it’s just some weirdo, he could ditch it. He’s a strong boy, he can hold his own if need be. The man… “Daddy” didn’t message him again leading up to graduation. He did say that he would wait until after graduation, but Ryan would have at least appreciated some acknowledgement. The first night, Ryan stayed up all night in bed, tossing and turning, thinking about what he just agreed to. Mostly, though, he was thinking of the best way to lie to his parents and his friends; rehearsing it in his head. "Mom, Dad… me and my best friends are going on a road trip to celebrate our last grasp of freedom before adulthood ties us down forever. I know this might be shocking to you, but we really need it. We might never see each other again. I love you both. Please accept this. I’ll see you guys when we get back, in two weeks.” The next day, he went down for breakfast and saw his Mom and Dad getting ready for work. They smiled when he walked in; well, Mom did anyway. “Hi sweety, you’re up early!” “Y-yyeah, hey guys, s-so…” Jesus, Ryan, calm yourself. “M-me and the guys are gonna go on a trip-- road trip…” “Oh yeah? Sounds cool. When will you be back?” “Uh… two weeks?” “Aw okay, hun. I hope you have fun. When do you leave?” “Uh… sometime next week after graduation on Friday?” “Well, be safe. I’ll pack you some stuff if you need it.” Mom kissed him on the cheek before she and Dad left for work. …That was easy. “Hey Jeremy,” Ryan said on the phone to his best friend, “Me and the folks are going on a road trip to Colorado for two weeks after graduation, cos they wanna spend some time with me before I leave Mom forever and ever.” “Aww sucks dude, was gonna go on a road trip to Miami with ya if you were interested!” “Well… I might, if I decide to bail on them. I’ll let ya know. Otherwise if you don’t hear from me, I’m in Colorado!” Jesus, this was easier than expected. Graduation rolled around, and the after-party soon followed. Even though he had a raging hangover, on Saturday morning Ryan still raced home as soon as he recovered enough to not puke his guts out at the slightest sign of light. The girls were home, but he was too impatient to wait. He just locked his door and retrieved his laptop. One new message. Just like clockwork. >>On Monday, at 9am sharp, you will go to Vienna Cafe in the city. I will meet you there. >>You will not need to pack anything other than the clothes on your back. >>From there, I will take you back to my house, where you will be living. >>I will have everything that you need for the entire time you’re here. >>Do you understand? >Yes daddy. >>Good boy. I will send a copy of the rules that you will be living under later tonight. >>I have two more requests for now, though. >>Firstly, I want you to abstain from masturbating until you have come here. >>Can you do that for me? Ryan was so incredibly aroused - he wanted dearly to jerk one off right there. But he figured that whatever “Daddy” had in store for him, it was clearly worth it. >Yes daddy. >>Secondly, I want you to shave yourself. >>Not your head, just your facial hair and everything below that. >>This is the only time you’ll need to do this. >>Do you understand? >Yes daddy. >>Good boy. “You better be worth it,” Ryan said to himself. Later that night, sure enough, a PDF document came through. >BABY RYAN’S RULES >Daddy’s word is final. >Daddy will be addressed as Daddy, and nothing else. >If Baby Ryan is a naughty boy and disobeys Daddy, he will be punished. >If Baby Ryan is a good boy and obeys Daddy, he will be rewarded. >Daddy has the authority to alter the rules as he sees fit without notice. >Daddy’s word is final. Ryan was almost disappointed at how vague and brief it was. He was expecting something with more detail… but this meant it left much more to Ryan’s imagination, which he actually found hotter than anything. Sunday came round quicker than Ryan anticipated - one day to go, and then he would move in with the strange man he was now required to call “Daddy”. Out of sheer curiosity, he made an impulsive decision to go and scope out the address he’d been provided upon first contact with “Daddy”. Driving down the street, he found himself in a leafy, fairly wealthy neighbourhood - the sort you’d want to raise your kids in. He stopped right opposite the address he’d been given. It was an impressive, old-fashioned two-storey white home, with a large stone fence and iron gate, well-maintained green lawn, and a two-car garage. The house looked freshly painted, well-maintained and generally welcoming. Something in one of the upstairs windows caught his eye… he could’ve sworn he caught a glimpse of the familiar bars that signified a crib… and was that silhouette a teddy bear? Suddenly, a figure walked past the window, and stopped. Ryan leapt into action and immediately sped off, not looking back. His mom was suddenly much more emotional about Ryan disappearing for the summer, which made him feel quite a bit guilty, especially since he was being so dishonest about the ordeal. But he knew he couldn’t really justify backing out now; even if he wanted to. At dinner, she burst into tears and wouldn’t stop hugging him before he went to bed. He felt babied, and not in the way that he liked (thanks ma). It’s not like he was disappearing for good. He lay in bed that night, thinking what on Earth he had gotten himself into. He looked at the clock. 12:30 AM. In just under nine hours, he would be under the complete control of someone he had never even met before in his life. And he couldn’t be any more excited. It was surprising that Ryan managed to sleep at all that night, but indeed he did. He had a lot of peculiar dreams that night and some he remembered more than others: one dream he was sleeping in a crib, a usual fantasy of his; another he dreamt of a large, beefy man holding him and feeding him a bottle; and another, he was trapped in a massive, cage-like crib, unable to escape… Beep beep beep. 8:00 AM. Time to get up. Chapter 5 - Meeting Daddy Ryan was in a daze as he showered and dressed for the fateful meeting. He went through his clothes, wondering what he would possibly wear - “Not that it really matters,” he reasoned with himself, “You’re probably gonna get changed into something else straight away anyway.” He went with a fairly innocuous pair of jeans and a plain white T-shirt. Not daring to look back or think twice, he left. It was a clear, crisp morning, so he resolved to walk. And it was a brief walk - much too soon, he found himself on the corner of Vienna Street, with the Vienna Cafe in sight. Ryan’s heart was pounding so hard and fast, he might have been in danger of collapsing right there. He checked his watch. 8:50 AM. This was it. He walked past the cafe three or four times before he built up the confidence to walk in. And when he did… it was empty. Weird. They only just opened, clearly, so he ordered a coffee and sat at a table by the window. He checked his phone, which read 8:59 AM, and then he almost jumped when a tall, muscular figure passed by the window and went straight into the cafe. Ryan couldn’t suppress a gasp when the man walked in, and looked straight at him. He was well-built, of course; quite beefy and clearly strong. He was wearing a plain button-up shirt which was unbuttoned slightly to reveal his hairy, rock-hard chest, and was tucked into a pair of tight slacks that certainly accentuated his crotch well. His sleeves were rolled up, putting his muscular, hairy arms on display. But Ryan was more drawn towards his face - he had a decent amount of facial hair, but not exactly a full-on beard, just enough stubble to let you know who was the man of the house. His dark hair was speckled with gray spots, the only thing betraying his age. And yet, it was his face that was the most striking feature of all… he had a gentle, warm face which filled Ryan with a similarly warm feeling inside… it was incredibly peculiar, and even more so considering Ryan was now staring at this strange man for about ten seconds. What could he say - he just oozed authority. The man beamed widely, and walked over. “Well well well,” he said in a calm, warm voice that put Ryan off guard. “You must be Ryan.” Ryan laughed nervously. “Yup, that I am. And you are…?” The man chuckled, making Ryan feel that much more nervous again. “Well, you know who I am.” Ryan stared at the floor, unable to quite make eye contact with the man… “Daddy”, yet. “I’ve gotta finish this coffee,” Ryan said hastily. “That’s OK, baby, I can wait. But we’ve got to get going soon.” Ryan looked around anxiously in case anyone heard him call him “baby”. “Don’t be embarrassed, little Ryan,” he laughed. “You’ve got nothing to worry about.” “I have to tell you something,” Ryan blurted out before he could stop himself. “What is it?” “Uh… this is kinda my… well… first… anything.” “You mean you’ve never worn diapers before?” Ryan flinched at the d-word. He never even dared say it out loud himself. And yet, here was this burly, intimidating man using it freely in front of him. “Y-yeah… or, y’know, been with another man…” “Is that so?” he cocked an eyebrow, smiling again. “Yup…” Ryan was sure getting a great view of his shoelaces here. “Well, you do understand what I’m going to do to you, don’t you? You know that I will be putting you back in diapers? And that you will be my baby boy?” Ryan was flushing with embarrassment, but he silently nodded. “Look at me and say so.” Ryan looked up and made eye contact with him. His eyes were warm and loving, sure, but his face was hard and authoritarian. Not the sort of person you wanted to mess with at any rate. “Y-yes.” “Yes, what?” “…” “Say it.” “…Yes, Daddy.” Immediately after saying that, Ryan’s cock (which had been more or less inert since waking up) sprang to attention. He blushed even further at that. “Daddy” seemed to notice and smiled widely again. “Don’t get too excited now,” he chuckled. “We’ve still got to get you home and settled in now.” Ryan laughed nervously, and returned to looking at his feet. “Well, we should get going now.” Ryan was frozen. He acknowledged the man’s words, but he wasn’t quite sure what to do. Frankly, he probably just wasn’t ready to go yet. “Daddy” seemed to notice. “Let me just lay everything out on the table here,” he said, his face softening and allowing a smile. "I might have been a bit vague, but I didn’t want to spoil the surprise. But I should clear a few things up anyway, just so we’re both on the same page. I’m sure you’ve read things on the internet about “babies” and their “daddies”. Well, in case you haven’t already realised… I’m not like those other daddies. I’m not going to just put you in diapers and change you, although that will certainly be a major aspect of our relationship. "You will need to submit yourself entirely to my control. You’re going to fed by me, bathed by me. I will choose what you wear, and you will wear it, no questions asked. You will eat and drink what I feed you, no questions asked. And yes, you will be diapered 24/7. But ultimately, above all else, you will be my baby boy. Not just my boy, who’s dressed like a baby… my baby boy. You will need to forget who you are. You won’t be Ryan Willis, high school graduate, star athlete and future college student. You will just be Baby Ryan, Daddy’s good little baby boy; and nothing more. And I mean 24/7… there will not be any breaks or moments to breathe; no safe words. You live under my roof, you’re my baby. "I know I sound like I’m repeating myself now, but I just really want you to fully understand what I’m offering. And I understand that’s an immense commitment to make. So if you’re having any second thoughts now, this is your chance to turn back and go home. But that’s it; the offer’s off the table. I don’t deal with second chances or boys who don’t know what they want. I want you to be absolutely certain with regards to what you want. Same goes for the other option - if you come with me, there’s no turning back. You commit to this, and you commit entirely for these two weeks. “So, little guy, that’s my final offer. You can go home and back to your life as Ryan Willis, the closeted, suppressed college student unable to express his desires, doomed to a life of pent-up urges he might never be able to fully indulge in. Or… you can come with me, and be my Baby Ryan. And I know it’s what you want, what you desire with every inch of your being. You wouldn’t have gone to my house yesterday if you didn’t.” Ryan blushed profusely at this. "Nonetheless, it’s your decision. Two weeks of bliss.” Strangely enough, the first thought that entered Ryan’s head was, “Man, this must be the weirdest conversation to ever take place in this coffee shop.” And then, all at once, Ryan’s mind began racing at a million miles per hour. He was, indeed, having second thoughts now that he really thought about it. Planning this whole thing in his mind and imagining all the situations he would get into was one thing, but now he was here, with the man who wanted to baby him standing right in front of him. Ryan truthfully didn’t quite prepare for how serious “Daddy” was about this. Playing baby was something Ryan obviously wanted… but by the sounds of it, “Daddy” didn’t just want Ryan to pretend to be his baby, he wanted Ryan to BE his baby. It was intense, it was scary… and Ryan couldn’t think of anything more amazing. And now he had to choose between getting into “Daddy”'s car, or going home. “No turning back”, though? Ryan thought he said he could opt out at any time if he wa– “Well, if you don’t want to come, that’s fine. I’ll see you later, baby Ryan.” The man left. He was about to open his car door and hop in, no doubt to drive off and never be seen again, when he looked back at the coffee shop to see Ryan, standing by the car. He silent. He looked “Daddy” in the eye, and slowly nodded. The man smiled. “That’s my boy.” Chapter 6 - The Nursery “Woah, little guy, let Daddy help you there.” Ryan was taken aback when he went to open the passenger door - he barely even touched the door handle before “Daddy” interjected. He almost went to say, “No, it’s fine,” before he remembered himself. “Daddy” came round to the other side and opened the door for him. A lump formed in Ryan’s throat when he saw that the passenger seat was occupied by… a booster seat. A fairly large one, clearly custom-made for larger kids. Suddenly, Daddy clasped Ryan’s shoulder with his right hand; his grip was very firm. Ryan looked at him, and he motioned his head as if to say, “Go on, then”. Ryan wasn’t quite prepared for the baby thing to start so soon; he thought it would at least wait until they got back to his house. But Daddy looked pretty serious, so Ryan reluctantly climbed into the padded seat. Immediately, once he was in, Daddy strapped him in - it was one of those straps that crosses from all four sides, and buckles in the center. It was certainly tight, and in fact, Ryan could’ve sworn that he heard a clicking sound, like a lock, when Daddy finished buckled him in, and closed the door. This was it. “Alright then baby, let’s go home.” The drive went by rather quickly. The radio played quietly in the background, but otherwise, it was fairly silent. Ryan was too nervous to think of anything to say that wasn’t just awkward small talk, so he stayed quiet. Every now and then he’d look at the man and think to himself, “That’s my Daddy”. Just a few weeks ago, he thought the idea of having a Daddy was in the farthest realms of pure fantasy, and now here he was, locked into a baby’s carseat and at the mercy of a man almost twice his age. And he absolutely loved it - he was still rock hard, and the added tightness of the straps pressing up against his crotch only made him hornier. Every now and then, Daddy would catch him staring, and Ryan would look away, blushing. Then the man would beam that oddly comforting smile of his, and he’d feel a bit better. And then his dick would throb, and he’d blush again. Finally, they pulled into his driveway. Daddy released him from his carseat, and guided him inside. Ryan looked outside, at his one last gasp of freedom, before taking a deep breath and stepping inside. Daddy closed the door and locked it behind him. “Take your shoes off.” Ryan looked around the foyer - it was light and airy, with polished wooden floors and attractive paintings adorning the walls. To his immediate left was a staircase, and he could see into the big, open lounge area to his right (with a piano, large dining table, and other grand furniture suitable for someone with a sizable income), but otherwise, there wasn’t much to see. And Ryan was only interested in one particular room, obviously. “Would you like to see your new room?” Oh how overjoyed Ryan was to hear those words. Daddy took Ryan’s hand, as usual in a firm but not painful grip, and guided him upstairs. He walked past multiple rooms, no doubt bedrooms, being led to the door at the very end of the hallway. Ryan simply couldn’t suppress a smile when he saw the words “Baby Ryan’s Nursery” adorning a sign designed with baby blocks hanging on the door. Daddy unlocked the door (quite a hefty lock on it as well, Ryan noted) and took him inside. Ryan might have been smiling before, but now his jaw simply dropped. The room was quite large; about twice the size of his room, he wagered. But it wasn’t really the size of the room that took his breath away, of course, it was the contents. And what contents! The room was painted in whites and soft baby blues, with the odd pastel yellow or green thrown in here and there for good measure. The walls were adorned with images of famous children’s cartoon characters like Elmo (lots of Elmo), Blue from Blues Clues, and the Teletubbies. The carpet was a soft, fleecy white with a multitude of baby toys scattered about… blocks, cars, rattles, teething rings, and even a big rocking horse to the side. A toybox in the corner no doubt contained a multitude of other toys to play with. A massive brown teddy bear sat in the corner by the window, and a few other plush toys were scattered about as well. A rocking chair sat next to the big bear, and on the other side of it, a massive padded changing table, with shelves underneath stacked high with what was the unmistakeable sight of (Ryan’s heart lept with excitement) large disposable diapers, a few fluffy white cloth ones and plastic pants, in addition to the usual diaper changing supplies - powder, baby wipes, etc. A stack of shelves next to the table was stacked with pacifiers and bottles. The wardrobe door was ajar, enough that Ryan could catch a brief glimpse of what was inside - he saw a pair of white footed pajamas with what appeared to be cute little pictures of teddy bears and rattles on it. A big TV sat to the side of the room, hidden behind the open door. A full length mirror hung on the other side of the door. Sunlight spilled into the room, aided by the big, airy windows that overlooked the street below. And completing the scene, the words “Baby Ryan” adorned the wall above the changing table, matching the sign on the door in big baby block letters. But what easily dominated the room was the huge, white crib sat right beside the window (decorated with Winnie-the-Pooh curtains, of course). The bars were down, ready for its new occupant. There was even a cute plush rabbit waiting inside. In short, the nursery was everything Ryan had dreamed of, and more. Everything was perfectly re-scaled for a boy of Ryan’s size, but all without sacrificing the infantile nature of the objects inside. Make no mistake, this was not a room for a young adult; it was a room for babies who just happened to be teen-sized. Ryan was an expert on adult baby supplies, having spent hours staring wistfully at websites that he thought he’d never be able to sample; and there were things in this room that he never even thought existed in such large sizes. Clearly Daddy had gone out of his way to customise everything to perfection. Never in his wildest dreams would he fathom a room as wonderful as this; and now it would be his room for the next two weeks. Naturally, Ryan was in awe at the sight. He took in every single detail, constantly reminding himself that no, he wasn’t dreaming, and yes, this was really the room he would now call home for two weeks. He sniffed; and he was suddenly transported back to visiting his Aunt Jemima as a child who had a one-year-old daughter, his cousin Janine… it was the sweet, gentle scent of baby powder. Ryan breathed it in further; he’d never smelt something so sweet. Daddy was watching him this whole time, smiling as his baby boy took in the sights and smells. Ryan eventually realised that he was doing so, and blushed. Daddy clasped an arm on his shoulder. “Well, let’s get started.” Immediately, Daddy seized Ryan and lifted him into the air with extraordinary ease. Ryan was so taken by surprise his instinctive reaction was to struggle, but it did no good; Daddy was simply too strong. He carried Ryan over to the rocking chair and sat down in it, forcing Ryan over his lap, his butt sticking out most prominently. Ryan breathed heavily, no longer knowing what was going to happen next. “Well, this is just no good,” Daddy tutted, “the naughty baby thinks he’s more grown up than he really is. Look how silly he looks in these grown-up clothes, he’s not fooling anyone. I think it’s time Daddy taught him a little lesson.” Chapter 7- Back to Basics Without warning, Daddy roughly ripped Ryan’s pants off and tossed them aside, exposing Ryan’s plain white briefs (Ryan’s preferred underwear, as they were the closest things to diapers he could really get), which he then pulled down to expose his naked butt. Ryan realised what was coming, and started to grow nervous. A spanking? This wasn’t part of the plan… Ryan squirmed uncomfortably, but Daddy’s vice-like grip meant he was going nowhere. “Wait, I don’t think I’m r–” Ryan was swiftly silenced when a sharp slap came across his butt cheeks. He yelped in pain, but barely had time to catch his breath before another came. And another. And another. Ryan hadn’t been spanked since he was 4 years old, but the experience was no less humiliating at 18 years old. In fact, obviously, it was much more degrading and painful than he remembered. After what felt like an eternity, but was really more like about a minute, Daddy stopped spanking. He rubbed Ryan’s bright red stinging bottom, and then let his finger linger on his pink hole, teasing it thoroughly, and slipping a finger inside to explore. Ryan just about yelped. “Such a smooth, round bottom… my baby boy’s going to look just precious in his new diapers.” Ryan’s heart jump-started once again. He knew what was about to happen. He’d been dreaming and fantasising about it ever since he got out of them in the first place, but now it was a reality - he was about to be put back in diapers. The man held Ryan in a firm grasp and brought him over to the changing table. He was laid out on the padded surface gently, and the burly man went about gathering supplies. Ryan wriggled experimentally; the soft padding crinkled slightly. A real-life changing table, all right. He felt so exposed, lying butt naked at the mercy of this total stranger, and his bottom still stung quite a bit from the spanking. Another crinkling sound filled Ryan’s ears, but it wasn’t the changing table; the man had retrieved one of the large, thick diapers and presented it to him. Ryan got a close-up look of his new underwear. They were pearly white, plastic, and the front featured little pictures of teddy bears and stars, much like a real baby’s diaper. But, of course, these were much larger than a normal baby’s diaper, and they appeared to be much thicker. In fact, Ryan realised they looked even a bit thicker than the usual diapers tailor-made for ABDLs, and those were specifically optimised for maximum thickness. It was the most beautiful thing Ryan had ever seen, and his eyes (and dick) widened in anticipation. Daddy looked down at Ryan’s erect member, and Ryan blushed. “Well well,” he chuckled, “Looks like someone’s excited for his new diapie! Better get it on you so we don’t have any little accidents.” With one swift move, he grabbed Ryan’s ankles and lifted his butt high up in the air. Ryan was taken aback by this sudden movement; he’d never been so easily manhandled before, and the man seemed to be doing it with such little effort, as if he was setting to work on a real little baby. He had unfolded the diaper and used this opportunity to slide it under Ryan’s butt, and then lowered him back down onto it. Then came the wipes - of course Ryan didn’t really need it, since he wasn’t wet (yet…) but this was a Daddy who liked to keep up appearances. Ryan flinched as the cold, damp wipe was dragged across his crotch. Noticing his excitement, Daddy paid extra attention to Ryan’s throbbing boner, grabbing it with the wipe and giving it a few gentle strokes. Ryan was just about to burst when Daddy immediately stopped, denying him the satisfaction of a good climax. Ryan’s initial gut reaction was frustration, followed by an even more intense wave of excitement. He was lifted into the air again, held up by his ankles in one hand while the other hand busied itself wiping Ryan’s butt down. Freshly wiped, Daddy moved onto the next stage: a bottle of Johnson & Johnson’s baby powder. With a few generous puffs, the sweet aroma of the talcum powder filled Ryan’s nostrils, and he breathed in the wonderful smell deeply. Daddy applied a liberal amount of powder, making sure every nook and cranny was covered. And now, the final coup-de-grace - Daddy grabbed the diaper and pulled it up through Ryan’s legs, meeting the tapes at his hips and taping it up tightly and securely. He made sure it was fitted as snugly and securely to him as possible, before standing back to admire his handiwork. “There… that’s much better than those silly big boy pants. How does baby like his new diapers?” Ryan looked down, his heart pounding with euphoria, to see his crotch now encased in a thick white mass. They really were thick - Ryan brought his legs together experimentally, and found he could no longer touch his knees together, as the sheer bulk forced his legs apart. He also noted the crinkling sound that accompanied even the slightest of movements - he touched the front, and rubbed it a little bit. Crinkle crinkle. He could barely even feel his penis underneath the thick layer of plastic padding; an impressive feat considering how rock-hard it was. When he touched his dick, Daddy immediately took his hand and gave it a sharp slap, giving Ryan a considerable fright. Ryan looked up at him, looking almost offended, but withered against Daddy’s dead-serious face. He was in trouble. “Naughty baby! You don’t touch your diaper or your private parts. That’s Daddy’s territory. If you’re a very good boy, I might let you have some fun, but you have to earn that privilege. Understand?” Ryan realised what he was doing; orgasm denial. It took second-stage to his babying fantasies, but Ryan did always find the idea of only being allowed to cum when his Daddy gave him permission to do so, kinda hot. He nodded silently, and when he was given another insistent look, added, “Yes Daddy.” “Good boy! Now sit up for Daddy.” Ryan moved himself into a sitting position (crinkle crinkle… God, he could never tire of that wonderful sound) and waited. He wondered how ridiculous he might have looked to anyone else right now - this well-toned 18-year-old guy in a massive baby’s diaper. At least Janine wasn’t here; she’d have a field day. Daddy had gone to the wardrobe, and ruffled through a few items before saying, “Aaaah,” this will look just precious with your new diapers," he cooed. He returned to Ryan’s side, holding a baby blue T-shirt with a pastel yellow pocket complete with a little picture of Winnie-the-Pooh on the front, and light purple sleeves, with a white collar. It was the most babyish, adorable T-shirt Ryan had ever seen. “Arms up!” Ryan did so, and the shirt was promptly thrust through his arms, and pulled down. Ryan looked down and noticed that the shirt stopped just centimetres of the top of the diaper’s waistband, not even pretending to cover it up in any way, exposing it for any and all to see. “I would’ve dressed you in some shortalls or a onesie, but your new diapers look just so precious on you, I just have to show them off this time! What do you think, Baby Ryan? I think you look super handsome.” Ryan nodded in agreement. “One more thing,” Daddy said, turning his attention to the shelves beside the changing table. “Now you’ve been a very good boy, not crying or throwing a tantrum for Daddy, but I think we’d better give you your paci for now, just in case.” Daddy returned with a large yellow Winnie-the-Pooh pacifier, matching the pocket on his shirt. He pressed the large rubber nipple gently against Ryan’s lips, causing him to open them and accept the pacifier. The nipple was really quite big, and filled Ryan’s mouth causing his cheeks to puff out just a bit. He gave it an appreciative suckle, making Daddy beam widely. “I bet you’re a hungry little tyke now, aren’t you?” Almost on cue, Ryan’s stomach rumbled in agreement. He couldn’t help but smile behind the pacifier at it, and kept sucking away happily. Daddy picked Ryan up by the armpits once again, as effortlessly as ever, and set him down on the soft carpeted floor, adding, “Well, you just wait here for a little bit while Daddy fixes you a nice, yummy bottle of milk.” He gave Ryan a crinkly pat on the bottom, making him blush a little bit, before heading down to the kitchen. Chapter 8 - Bottle Time! Ryan sat on the floor motionless for a few moments, dumbstruck that this was really happening to him. He gazed around the room once more, drinking in the sights, before resting on the “Baby Ryan” sign above the changing table. “Baby Ryan,” he said out loud to no one in particular, forgetting for a second that his pacifier was in his mouth and startling himself with his muffled voice. It was a cute name all right. He shifted a bit, the crinkling sound bringing him back to the fact that yes, he was wearing a diaper - a proper, thick baby’s diaper. It was an odd feeling having so much padding around your crotch, but it was surprisingly comfortable. The plastic front was so shiny and reflective, Ryan could almost see his reflection when he gazed down at it. He poked and prodded it some more just so he could hear that wonderfully babyish crinkling noise, opening and closing his legs, sniffing it to get more of that sweet powder smell. He rubbed it again. And again. And again. And again… ‘Whoops,’ he thought to himself when he realised he was getting a bit carried away with his vigorous rubbing. He decided he’d better distract himself; didn’t want to get on Daddy’s bad side too quickly. Besides, he didn’t wanna just blow his load straight away, when there was still so much more to come. ‘Heh, come.’ Ryan was nothing if not a true comedian when no one was around to hear his wisdom. Out of the corner of his eye, he spied the mirror. He realised he hadn’t actually seen his reflection yet, so he shuffled on over to that on his knees. When he saw himself, he couldn’t suppress a gasp. He looked so positively infantile he couldn’t believe it. The T-shirt, the massive diaper, the pacifier making his face look all pouty and adorable… He sucked on it for a while, watching himself do so. He turned around to look at his behind; his butt never looked so puffy. Ryan had spent countless times staring at himself in the mirror imagining himself in diapers and baby clothes; but now he didn’t have to imagine it anymore, it was really happening. It still felt so surreal, like a lucid dream. He patted his big butt curiously, much like Daddy had done before. They somehow looked even thicker in the mirror, and Ryan simply couldn’t help but blush from embarrassment, even if no one at all was around to see him in that moment. There was still that part of him that knew he should probably feel ashamed, but right now, his acute embarrassment only made his dick strain even harder against its tight plastic padding. Ryan sat in front of the mirror for a few minutes longer, transfixed by his new outfit, before Daddy came stomping back up the stairs. He returned with a few bottles full of milk in his arms, setting them down on a table by the rocking chair and turning to Ryan. “Goodness me,” he said with a chuckle, “Baby sure seems to love his new diapers!” Ryan blushed again and looked down with a nervous smile. “Don’t be embarrassed, tiger. You’ll be wearing them for a while now, so you might as well get used to them! Now come on, it’s time for a nice baba. Doesn’t that sound nice?” Ryan was lifted up and carried over to the rocking chair. Daddy got comfortable in the big chair, sitting Ryan so that he was cradled in his arms securely. It was incredibly intimate - Ryan could almost hear his heartbeat, and his warm, fuzzy arms held him tightly, making him feel very safe. Ryan was starting to feel very peaceful - he figured he was entering his “little space” he always read about online, for the very first time. He started gently, rhythmically sucking on his pacifier as he snuggled up to Daddy. Daddy lifted Ryan’s head a little, before grabbing the bottle. He removed the pacifier from his lips, before gently replacing it with the large nipple of the bottle, and Ryan continued sucking. It took a little while to get the hang of drinking from a bottle, but eventually he got it down pat, and the milk began to flow steadily down his throat as he kept rhythmically sucking away and Daddy began rocking gently. The milk was rather warm, and tasted a bit sweet; not your usual milk. Ryan wondered to himself for a bit what exactly was in the milk - he detected a slight tinge of something medicinal. But the drink overall tasted so good, and it made him feel very warm and calm inside. The combination of the calming milk, the gentle, hypnotic sucking action of being bottlefed, and being held so tightly and warmly in Daddy’s arms as he gently rocked made Ryan feel so incredibly peaceful, and he closed his eyes. All his doubts and inhibitions and feelings of shame about being treated like an infant simply melted away, allowing him to simply lose himself in a state of infantile bliss. All that mattered in this moment was the yummy taste of the warm milk. A few minutes later, Ryan finished the bottle. He felt very satisfied, almost groggy even from the mixture. He opened his eyes to see Daddy putting the empty bottle to the side and immediately grabbing another. “Round two,” Ryan thought to himself as the second bottle was pushed into his mouth, and he resumed his suckling and returned to his babyish haze. By the end of this second bottle, Ryan was starting to feel full. In fact, he could feel his belly beginning to swell out just a bit from the amount of fluids he was being fed. Daddy grabbed the third bottle, and Ryan started to feel a bit nervous. He was full by now, sure, but that wasn’t all - the coffee from earlier had also worked its way through his system by now, and he felt a quickly onsetting urge to pee. He squirmed uncomfortably while Daddy fed him the last of his third helping, knowing that he needed to go fairly soon. By now, his tummy was pudging out quite a bit, full of the yummy, unusual milk. “One more,” Daddy said cheerfully, probably noting Ryan’s uncomfortable expressions. He knew he was going to wet himself, but his subconscious was fighting dearly against it, and winning. Ryan almost wanted to just lose control and wet helplessly, but he knew 17 years of potty training weren’t just going to go away like that. And, if he thought about it, it would be better if it didn’t - this whole thing wasn’t going to be permanent after all, and he needed to get back to a life after it. But he could worry about that after his bottle. Ryan was positively bloated after one last bottle of milk, and then Daddy sits up, throwing Ryan over his shoulder in a tight bear hug. Ryan almost hugs him back, thinking it to be just an expression of intimacy and fatherly love, but when Daddy starts roughly patting him on the back, he gives himself a small jump when he burps loudly. Ryan blushed again at his rude utterance, and Daddy stuck his pacifier straight back into his mouth. “Playtime!” He said chirpily. Chapter 9 - Play Time! Most 18-year-olds might scoff at the idea of spending their morning playing with blocks and toy cars, but Ryan was no ordinary 18-year-old; right now, that sounded like the perfect way to spend a morning after being changed into a diaper and bottlefed some delicious milk. Daddy seemed to have started off with bottlefeeding to get Ryan into the perfect babyish headspace from the get-go, and boy did it work. Sucking away happily on his pacifier (he could really get used to this, it was quite soothing), Ryan lost himself in his inner child and built towers out of blocks, grabbing the cars and sending them crashing to the ground as he rammed the cars into them. Daddy watched him, grinning from ear to ear as he observed the teenager slipping so easily into his newfound infantile role. He really did choose the perfect boy. Ryan was amazed at how entertaining this could be - an hour later, he was still playing… but more urgent matters were demanding his attention. The need to pee had grown more and more urgent with every passing minute, and Ryan even went to go to the toilet once or twice before he realised himself. He tried to wet himself, but he just couldn’t even force himself to do it - there was, unfortunately, some sort of mental roadblock preventing him from engaging in such an obviously infantile act. “Alright, baby, Daddy has things to attend to, but he’ll be back super soon, okay?” Ryan was disappointed that Daddy was leaving so soon, but he gave him a hug and Daddy gave him a little peck on the cheek (causing Ryan to blush a little) and was left to his own devices. Now on his own, Ryan became a little self-conscious again. When Daddy was playing with him and encouraging him, he didn’t mind acting so infantile, but now his inner monologue wasn’t drowned out by Daddy’s encouraging and gentle words, and it let him know how ridiculous he really looked. Ryan blushed a little again. He looked over to the mirror, and caught sight of him sucking unconsciously on the pacifier, and spat it out immediately in embarrassment. Ryan was a little concerned about how easily he seemed to be slipping into his newfound babyhood. He’d read a million stories about this - the naive young man put back into diapers and babied to the point of losing his mind and turning into a real baby. Of course those stories were mostly just thinly disguised fap material, but he still didn’t want to get too lost in it - who knows what could happen? But he had other matters to attend to right now, like the sudden return of his need to pee, stronger than ever. “All you have to do is let go and pee,” Ryan said in his mind. “Just let go, wet yourself.” Ryan looked down again at the thick padding bunched between his smooth, youthful thighs. He spent his entire adolescence fantasising of wetting a diaper, but now he couldn’t even bring himself to do it; it seemed his pride was just getting in the way. Frankly, the whole experience was tainted now. He wanted out. Daddy… the man, was still gone. Ryan knew he would be disappointed that he got cold feet, and he himself was disappointed to lose this opportunity, but Ryan just couldn’t justify carrying this charade on anymore. Like, what was he thinking? He knew he couldn’t really just get away with disappearing an entire summer. And his parents would likely find out about his secret, and then what would he do? He just had to wait for him to return and break the news. Minutes passed, though, and he still hadn’t returned. Now the urge was to pee grew painful, and Ryan was worried. What was he doing? Ryan couldn’t wait anymore. He had to go and find him. He went to stand up… …and stumbled, landing flat on his stomach. He gave himself such a fright, his bladder immediately let go and flooded his diaper. The crotch grew warm and damp as it expanded with the urine being released into it. Ryan got back onto his knees and touched the front of the diaper, still somewhat paralysed with the surprise of it. The diaper was now soggy and damp, and squelched instead of crinkled. He really did it. Ryan wet his diaper, and really it was actually somewhat of an accident. Almost immediately after, Ryan heard the distant stomp of footsteps coming closer. The man was returning. “Hello baby, I’m back,” he beamed before noticing Ryan looking down at the ground. “Is something wrong?” Ryan could finally tell him the bad news, that he was having second thoughts and wanted to leave… “I wet my diaper. Could you change me… Daddy?” Chapter 10 - Messy Time? It was a strange series of events that ultimately led to the captain of the hockey team and one of the most popular jocks in school to be laid down on a padded changing table to have his puffy wet diaper changed by a man he’d never met until today - that same man he now called his Daddy - while he sucked placidly on a bottle of juice. Ryan was thinking deep about the situation now. He’d very seriously intended on bailing on the whole charade, right up until Daddy walked back in. For some reason, as soon as he walked in, Ryan’s will just melted away. It seemed like even if he wanted to get out, he couldn’t bring himself to tell Daddy… the man… Daddy. And frankly, right now he didn’t really want to. Daddy had cooed to him after realising he was wet, praising him for being a good little boy and using his diapers just like he was meant to. It was a little embarrassing but still made him all warm and fuzzy inside. He had gently laid him out on the changing table and untaped the sodden garment, and was now wiping him down lovingly, giving Ryan yet another surprise boner. Stopping just short of climax once again, to Ryan’s building frustration, he instead went to wiping down his bottom. Ryan was lost in the ecstasy of the moment as Daddy caressed his smooth bottom… and then yelped in shock when he shoved something straight up his hole. It seemed like just his finger at first, but Ryan could’ve sworn there was still something there when he retracted his finger and, oddly, taped the wet diaper back up. That was odd. Why did he go to all that trouble just to wipe him down a little bit and put him back in the same diaper? Daddy blew a raspberry on Ryan’s stomach, making him squirm and giggle a little bit, completely pushing the diaper situation out of his mind. Ryan finished the bottle just as Daddy picked him up again and brought him over to the rocking chair. Ryan sat in Daddy’s lap while he fussed over his new baby boy, stroking his hair and patting his soggy bottom. Ryan blushed and smiled, quickly learning to grow out of his embarrassment over being coddled and babied. About a minute or so later, Ryan’s tummy started to feel funny. He thought it was just a bit of gas, and he farted loudly, giggling at Daddy’s feigned shock reaction. But it kept gurgling away, and Ryan realised with slowly creeping dread that the urge to poop was growing with unsettling speed. He looked at Daddy, who kept smiling. “Uh… I have to go poop,” Ryan said, blushing profusely. “Yeah?” Daddy cocked an eyebrow knowingly. “Well, what are we gonna do about that, little man?” “Well, uh… could you take my diaper off so I can go to the, uh, potty? …Please?” Daddy chuckled, pinched Ryan’s cheek and said, “Silly baby! Little boys in diapers don’t use the potty, remember? They do all their business in their diapers!” “Wh-what? But I don’t wanna mess… I don’t like it, this wasn’t part of the de—“ Ryan was swiftly silenced by a sharp smack on the thigh. “You will use your diapers as fully intended, baby! And yes, that does include going poopy! The only time I will ever take off your diapers is when I’m changing you into a fresh one, or when it’s bath time! If you ever try and hold off from messing, I’ll know, and I’ll give you something so you don’t have any choice. Just like the suppository I gave you just before.” Ryan started to get very uncomfortable. He really didn’t want to mess; as much as he always liked the idea of it, the current reality of actually soiling himself was a bit too intense. Admittedly, not as intense as the ever-growing urge to let go. He started to squirm in discomfort, and Daddy held him tightly, whispering in his ear. “Shhh… it’s okay, baby. Don’t worry. It’s coming, so just sit still for Daddy and let it happen.” Intense stomach cramps, wave after wave, hit Ryan and he started moaning in discomfort. Just as the urge disappeared, it immediately came rushing back harder and more intense than ever. Daddy just held him tightly in his arms, gently reassuring him and rubbing his back soothingly. “It’ll be over soon, baby boy… shhh… just let it happen!” Ryan couldn’t even struggle against Daddy’s iron grip, and could only whimper as he tried to put up a fight against his ever-weakening bowel muscles. Eventually, Ryan finally farted like he had never done before, followed by another big, slightly runny fart, and finally, all at once, a hot rush of mushy, warm poo completely filled into his diaper and smeared all over his bottom and even up his crotch. Ryan was in shock. He had never even crapped himself as a child, but now here he was, the high school graduate in a completely soiled diaper. Daddy released Ryan from his grip, still patting his back. “There there, little man…” he gently whispered. “All better?” Ryan was petrified with shock, unable to muster the ability to speak at all let alone reply to him, so he just nodded without making a sound. “Good boy. And stinky boy for sure! Big poopies for such a little guy, guess you really do need these big thick diapers, huh?” Daddy beamed and patted Ryan’s bottom, mushing it about even more and making him squirm in discomfort. Ryan was genuinely humiliated, and Daddy noticed. “Aww… is widdle Ryan embarrassed about his stinky winkies? It’s OK to make poopies, little guy! That’s why Daddy keeps you in diapers, after all. Daddy thinks you need a change though. Don’t you agree?” Ryan nodded again, still too humiliated to speak. “Hmm, I’m not sure… you need to ask Daddy nicely.” Ryan swallowed, trying to clear the lump in his throat. “Wil-will you change me please?” He received a sharp slap on the thigh for that. “That’s not how little babies ask for their diapies to be changed! You need to tell daddy what you’ve done, and ask him very nicely to help.” Ryan blushed furiously, harder than ever. He put on a babyish tone and slowly said, “Daddy… I made poopies in my diapee… Can you change me… pwease?” Daddy pinched Ryan’s cheek and gave him a few good bounces on the knee, smushing the mess about again. “Good baby!” He exclaimed. “Time for a change.” Chapter 11 - A Change Well Earned Ryan was in something of a state of shock as Daddy carried him gently over to the changing table. He couldn’t quite believe that he had really done that; just completely soiled himself, let alone in front of another person. He was petrified with humiliation and felt incredibly babyish, much like he did being bottle fed earlier. But this wasn’t the soothing, innocent babyish feeling like that one; Ryan felt completely helpless and at his Daddy’s mercy as he was gingerly laid down onto the table. This, he realised, was the reality of being a baby: complete and utter powerlessness over yourself. Ryan was brought back to reality as his soiled diapered butt made contact with the table. He was blushing furiously, and must’ve looked as if he was ready to cry or something as Daddy pushed his pacifier between his lips. Ryan gladly accepted it and placidly sucked while Daddy set to work untaping his diaper. Daddy exclaimed as the offensive bundle was released from Ryan’s side and the smell escaped. “Goodness me, Ryan, you are definitely a stinky baby huh?” Ryan could only blush and close his eyes as he sucked harder on the pacifier, trying hard to distract himself. Daddy just smiled at Ryan’s embarrassment as he started wiping his messy bottom down. “Don’t be embarrassed, tiger. Babies don’t need to use the potty after all. It’s OK to make poopies in your diapies. We’ll have lots more smelly diapers to come, don’t you worry. You’ll get used to it.” Funnily enough, despite (or maybe because of) Ryan’s intense humiliation, he was now completely rock-hard. Daddy noticed, and teased him a little bit by stroking his cock a little bit. He stopped before Ryan could climax, making him huff in frustration. Daddy grinned at this outburst. “Aww, I’m sorry baby, did you wanna cum? Poor baby. Daddy’s gotta make sure you aren’t naughty and playing with yourself. So if you’re a good boy, he might let you cum.” Ryan got the gist. As long as he didn’t act up or protest or resist, he would eventually get his reward. Daddy finished cleaning Ryan’s poopy butt off, and got him all nice and clean and taped up into a dry, clean new diaper. Daddy sat him up, patted his crinkly bottom and said, “Now there’s a happy baby. All cleaned up and changed into a nice clean diaper. What do you say?” “Fankyoo Daddy,” Ryan said, forgetting about the pacifier in his mouth that garbled his speech. Daddy chuckled as Ryan blushed. “I think it’s about lunch time!” Chapter 12 - A Nutritious Lunch Over the past few hours Ryan had been through so much in the name of babying that compared to shitting his diaper, being fed lunch wasn’t really anything at all to him. Daddy picked Ryan up and threw him over his shoulder with ease as he carried him downstairs to the kitchen, one hand cheerfully patting his diapered bum. A big highchair sat by the table where a normal chair might sit, complete with a “seat belt” strap in the seat and wrist restraints. Thankfully Daddy didn’t strap Ryan’s arms into those, but he did strap him into the seat before sliding the tray into place. Noticing Ryan’s concerned face at the wrist straps, Daddy said, “Those are only for naughty babies who make a fuss at mealtime. But you’re a good baby, right Ryan?” He nodded. Daddy set to work preparing Ryan’s lunch. He couldn’t see what he was preparing, but it smelled… Interesting. A few minutes later, Daddy came over with a big yellow Winnie-the-Pooh bib to tie around Ryan’s neck, before setting down a bowl of steaming mush. “Ready for num nums?” Daddy asked. Almost as if on cue, Ryan’s tummy rumbled audibly. He blushed as Daddy took his paci out and grabbed a spoonful of mush. “Here comes the Choo-Choo train!” Ryan didn’t really know how to react, so he didn’t open his mouth in time before the spoon collided with his lips, smushing the spoonful on his chin. “Silly baby,” Daddy chuckled, “Open wide now!” Ryan opened up and let the spoon fill his mouth. He gagged a little at the taste - mashed carrot. He couldn’t help but dribble a little bit more onto his bib. He felt, and no doubt in his mind looked absolutely ridiculous. But before he could even finish swallowing, Daddy had another spoonful on its way. Daddy fed Ryan at this speed throughout, ensuring that he couldn’t quite stop himself from missing or making a mess every now and then. Daddy retrieved a second bowl, this time of mashed apple, and repeated the process. Ryan was pretty full by the end of it, and an absolute mess - face, chin and bib covered in mushy baby food. But before Ryan was released, Daddy gave him one more bottle of milk, which he eagerly lapped down. Daddy finally wiped Ryan’s face clean with his bib, before releasing him and burping him again. Ryan was feeling positively blissful. After a somewhat traumatic experience in messing his diaper, he was now fed, burped and feeling really quite sleepy. Daddy picked up on this. “Hmm, baby’s getting sleepy huh? I think widdle Ryan needs a nap. Come on, daddy’ll put you down in your crib.” Putting his paci back in his mouth, Ryan placidly sucked as Daddy took him upstairs and laid him down in the big, cosy crib. Daddy pulled the curtains shut, and gave Ryan a cute teddy to cuddle while he tucked him in. “Sleep tight my beautiful baby boy,” Daddy whispered lovingly. “You’re going to love it here.” With a kiss on the forehead, Daddy raised the side of the crib and locked it into place, before turning on the stars and planets that hung over Ryan’s head making them spin. He locked the door behind him. Ryan was in bliss. He felt so light and fluffy, watching the stars spin as his eyes felt heavier and heavier. Before he fell asleep totally, he felt another urge to pee. But to his surprise, he found he could just let go and flood his diaper again, feeling the crinkly plastic grow warm and expand with his sogginess. Ryan smiled as he sucked his paci and closed his eyes, drifting peacefully off to a dreamless sleep. This was perfect. Chapter 13 - Lessons Learned Ryan learned a lot of things over that next week or so, living with Daddy. Lesson Number 1: life as a baby is very routine. After the first day, Daddy had quickly settled Ryan into a very consistent and repetitive daily routine. He’d wake up around 7.30, waiting for Daddy to come greet him before taking him downstairs for a spoon fed breakfast in his highchair (usually oatmeal and a bottle of milk). Following that, Daddy would take Ryan up for a diaper change into his outfit for the day - sometimes a cute onesie, a pair of shortalls, even just a T-shirt sometimes, but always with a thick, crinkly diaper around his waist. Then it was playtime for a few hours; he’d play with the toys and blocks and cars, which Daddy occasionally played along with, or if he was extra good he could watch some Teletubbies or Barney on the TV. Then it’d be lunch in the highchair around 12 or 1, followed by a nap in the crib for an hour or so. After his nap, Ryan would play for a bit more until dinner, followed by a bath, one last bottle and bedtime at 7pm sharp. Throughout the day there would be at least 3 or 4 wet diaper changes (and usually at least one messy one too), and playtime was occasionally interrupted for a bottle in daddy’s lap. This leads into Lesson Number 2: it was pretty easy to slip into the baby role once you stopped getting so embarrassed about it. Ryan was a mess of embarrassment and shame on his first day as a baby. But once he realised that no one here was going to judge him in any way, he was able to just lose himself in his newfound infancy and enjoy the complete lack of worry and responsibility that life as an infant enabled. He could play with the trucks and blocks as much as he pleased and he didn’t have to worry about school, work, money, parents, anything. Hell, he didn’t even have to worry about wiping his own ass anymore. After a few days, Daddy let Ryan cum too. But the catch was, since he wasn’t allowed to touch his diaper, he had to hump himself to climax. Ryan was so backed up that it still didn’t take long for him to absolutely explode, and Daddy praised him, reminding him that as long as he’s good and Daddy doesn’t have to punish him, he can do that again very soon. And once he got over that embarrassment hurdle, inhabiting the mind space was also easy. He grew to love the soothing rhythm of sucking on a bottle of milk. He could just let go into his diaper knowing Daddy would always be there to clean him up afterward. Even the TV shows were really entertaining once you stop caring about how old you supposedly “really” are. Life as a baby was pretty sweet. Except when it wasn’t, which brings Ryan to Lesson Number 3: being a baby kinda sucks sometimes. First of all, babies do kinda lead boring lives. They watch simple TV shows, and play with simple toys, and always need to be cared for and kept safe at every moment. There’s no excitement or risk; the biggest thrill ride of the day was if Ryan got to watch two episodes of Dora the Explorer instead of one. And the routine was repetitive sometimes to the point of mind numbing. Ryan had to struggle to remember what day it was, because they all blurred into one. Not to mention all the rules he had to follow and privileges he was no longer allowed. He wasn’t allowed to talk like a “big boy”, as Daddy said, and although he was warned at first if he didn’t talk in a sufficiently babyish manner, eventually Daddy would spank him every time and make him keep his pacifier in his mouth for a few hours. It wasn’t the only thing that would earn Ryan a spanking now either; refusing food, standing up instead of crawling, playing with himself, resisting a diaper change or doing anything that wasn’t totally consistent with a baby’s mindset was severely punished. And because Ryan inevitably slipped up at least once a day, it meant that since the first time he came, he had yet to earn the privilege again a week later. He was so frustrated but even trying to touch himself only meant he had to wait longer still. His least favourite punishment came about because he wouldn’t stop touching himself - Daddy put his hands in super thick white mittens that stopped him from being able to even play with his toys, let alone play with himself. He felt impossibly infantile with them, and vowed never to touch himself for the rest of the stay if that was the punishment. And there were countless other things about adult life that Ryan never even thought about until he was no longer permitted them. His diet now consisted solely of spoonfed mushy baby food and bottles of either juice or daddy’s specially made milk, and he certainly was never allowed to feed himself. The early bedtimes were also kind of a drag, especially since the sun would still peek through the curtains in the evening as he was tucked into his crib. Even Daddy was kinda getting to him in a way; he was intent on making sure Ryan knew he was the baby in this situation, so he always talked to him as if he were talking to a one-year-old. He never called him just Ryan; it was always ‘baby Ryan’, or even just ‘baby’ or ‘little man’. The lamest thing about being a baby was the complete lack of privacy it now meant. Daddy had complete authority over every single aspect of Ryan’s life now - he controlled when and what he ate, what he did, what he wore, when he slept, even what he said. Ryan had no independence or control over himself whatsoever. He was truly as helpless and dependent as a little baby. But it was easy enough to just lose yourself in the baby life. In fact, this led Ryan to the final Lesson, Number 4: it was kinda too easy to lose yourself in the baby life. Daddy was very intent on Ryan being dependent on his diapers for all his needs - he fed him lots of bottles to make sure he was constantly taking in fluids and thus constantly wetting. Even worse, he gave Ryan more than a few more suppositories after the first one to get him messing with ease. And they both worked with almost frightening effectiveness - Ryan didn’t even need to force himself to wet within a few days as he’d just let go and start peeing, and by the 6th day he just had to push a little bit before he found himself sitting in a messy smelly diaper. By the 9th day, Ryan started waking up soaked with no memory of wetting in the night. By that next afternoon, he was playing with his trucks when he felt his diaper suddenly growing warm as he wet himself unknowingly. Ryan was increasingly uncomfortable with the fact that he seemed to be losing control of his bodily functions against his will. But it wasn’t just his toilet training that seemed to be reversing. With all the forced pacifier use as punishment for big boy talk, Ryan started to really get fixated on it. He really did enjoy just sucking on it, and it was the best way to calm down if he was upset after a punishment. Once or twice, when it wasn’t nearby, he would instead start sucking on his thumb subconsciously. The baby treatment had physical implications too. The diet of baby food and milk meant Ryan’s messes became runnier and easier to just let go. And the diet combined with the lack of physical stimulation meant Ryan’s ripped chest and stomach had already started to devolve into a slightly chubbier build. He’d need to hit the gym big time at the end of this, he noted. No doubt a significant time on a diet like this would weaken him beyond help. Most of all though, Ryan was just bored with the routine. Daddy could tell. Ryan needed some excitement. So on the 13th day of his stay, Daddy got up extra early to prepare for Ryan’s big day. He packed a big Winnie-the-Pooh bag full of powder, wipes, an outfit change, a bottle, paci, bib, and a few diapers of course. All ready for his day out. Chapter 14 - A Grand Day Out Ryan stirred as the sunlight streamed in through the bars of the crib. Opening his eyes, he adjusted to the sight of his nursery he had grown so accustomed to over the past 13 days. He moaned behind his pacifier and grabbed Robbie, his favourite rabbit plushie. His diaper felt incredibly damp and saggy between his legs. It was a fantastic feeling, even if concerning that bed wetting was now a very real thing for him. He was rock hard but didn’t dare even hump the crib without daddy’s permission. Another day locked in mittens didn’t sound pleasant in any way whatsoever. Nonetheless, the blue onesie (complete with tiny little bottles and teddies all over!) strained against the heavy diaper, pressing it tight against Ryan’s crotch. At least it felt good. Daddy came in right on schedule. “Rise and shine my baby boy, time for num nums!” Ryan rolled over and couldn’t help but smile up at Daddy. For all of his strictness and control, he was always loving and cheerful… At least when Ryan wasn’t being punished, that is. “How’s my baby doing this morning? Hmm, soaked as usual… But at least you’re not leaky today!” Ryan blushed. Yesterday morning he was so wet that he had actually leaked through his diaper and soaked his sheets. Daddy wasn’t mad at him, but he did say that if it happened again, Ryan would need to wear double thick diapers to bed from now on. The diapers he already wore were thick enough without extra layers, so he was quietly grateful he didn’t have to endure that, and grateful his bed wetting wasn’t quite at crisis mode… Yet. Daddy lowered the crib side and picked Ryan up over his shoulder to carry him downstairs. He set him up in the highchair and strapped him in, pottering about preparing breakfast. Ryan was grateful not to have his arms strapped down this time - Daddy had done so three days ago, when he had earned his hands in mittens. That wasn’t a fun day. Bib around his neck and paci out, Daddy set to work feeding Ryan his breakfast. Oatmeal was on the menu today, and as usual Daddy somehow seemed to make sure Ryan still ended up with mush over his face, chin and bib. While Ryan sucked on his usual morning milk, Daddy sat down to his own breakfast - bacon and eggs on toast. It had been so long since he’d had solid foods, Ryan had almost forgotten what it tastes like. Two weeks on a diet of mush meant he didn’t really notice the taste anymore, but he still missed big boy food. He was grateful then that his time was almost over. The bottle finished, Daddy cleaned Ryan up and burped him, before carrying him upstairs again to get ready for the day. “Big day for you today, little guy!” Daddy said as he laid Ryan down on the changing table. He untapped the sodden garment and wiped Ryan’s damp crotch down as usual… But instead of taping another thick diaper around his waist, Daddy slid a pair of white briefs through Ryan’s feet and up around his waist. What was going on? “Daddy has some errands that he needs to do today. Normally I’d get a babysitter for you, but it’s not possible at such short notice, so instead you’ll be coming with me today! Are you ready to be a big boy just for today, baby?” Ryan flushed with nerves. He was anxious about anyone seeing him in this state… But, he reasoned, at least Daddy wasn’t making him go out diapered. And it’s not like he had anything resembling a choice these days anyway. Daddy dressed Ryan up in a light blue polo shirt, khaki shorts, and sneakers with ankle socks. He looked a bit like an overgrown child, but he supposed at least that was better than an overgrown baby. Ryan was strapped into the car seat again, but that wasn’t so bad. If he knew what was coming for him on his outing with Daddy, however, he might’ve just preferred the mittens at home. Chapter 15 - Big Boy Denied If Ryan thought that just because Daddy dressed him as a somewhat more mature kid rather than a complete infant, that meant he would be treating him as more of an equal… Well, he was sorely mistaken. As soon as Daddy pulled into the parking lot of the mall and unbuckled him from his car seat, Ryan was made to hold Daddy’s hand wherever they went, from the bank to the hardware store. Since Daddy looked old enough to be Ryan’s actual father, it made at least a few people do a double take and raise an eyebrow at the late teenager in the juvenile outfit holding the older mans hand. But to Ryan’s moderate relief, most people didn’t really look twice. It felt really weird to be walking around in normal underwear again. Ryan was now so used to having a thick layer of crinkly plastic padding encasing his crotch 24/7 that he felt oddly naked in just the thin white cotton briefs. Not to mention the baby talk which still didn’t quite relent much at all; Daddy still talked to Ryan as if he was really a toddler. “You want a lollipop, little guy?” He asked while they were in line at the pharmacy. Ryan nodded, blushing since there were definitely other people in earshot. “And one lollipop for my special little guy!” He exclaimed once they reached the counter. The cashier smiled tentatively at Ryan, who avoided eye contact. “Ryan loves lollipops, don’t you? Here you go, little guy. What do you say?” Not even daring to look up, Ryan muttered, “Thank you.” Daddy looked sternly at him while squeezing his hand and said, “I think you can do better than that, Ryan. Say thank you to the nice lady for your lollipop.” Ryan blushed a furious red as he looked up and made eye contact with the still-smiling woman and said in a slightly shaking voice, “Thank you for the lollipop. Daddy just tutted. “Kids,” he said to the cashier with a chuckle. She laughed in response, but was clearly very bemused by the entire situation. Ryan popped the lollipop into his mouth to distract himself from the embarrassment, especially since everyone behind them in line was now staring. He really quite enjoyed the lollipop a surprising amount; probably because it reminded him of his paci which he found himself craving a lot. “Okay tiger, we’ve just gotta stop in at the grocery store and then we’ll get you some McDonald’s for being such a good boy today!” Ryan beamed with happiness - finally some food that wasn’t just mush! Before they went into the store, Daddy grabbed a large bag from the backseat and put it around his shoulder. Ryan knew not to question daddy so he said nothing. Daddy led him by the hand again into the store. It was around the dairy aisle that the cramps started to hit Ryan. It was nearly 11am - around this time every day he would have his morning mess, and the bowel train was right on schedule. He almost just let go right there, until he remembered that he wasn’t in a diaper. Shit, that was a close one. He tugged at Daddy’s arm. “Yes, what is it sport?” “I, uh… I have to go potty.” “Oh yeah? Well, I’m afraid you’re gonna have to wait until we get to McDonald’s, sport. There’s no bathroom here.” Ryan whined, but Daddy slapped his wrist and he shut up. Daddy was taking his time with the groceries, and as Ryan realised, it took a lot more effort holding it in now than it did two weeks ago. He knew that if he let his mind wander for just a few moments, his body would take over and he’d immediately lose contr— “Hey Ryan, you’re back! Wait, who’s that guy and why are you… Uh, holding his hand?” Ryan froze, first at the sound of Jeremy Linnard’s voice and then at the all-too-familiar sensation of his bowels immediately letting loose, first with a loud fart followed by the seat of his pants filling with a big stinking mushy poop. Sensing the all-clear, his bladder followed suit as he completely flooded his shorts and even made a puddle where he stood. Jeremy and his buddies stared mouth agape as his hockey buddy wet his pants and messed himself all while holding the hand of some older man. “Ryan… Dude… Did you just wet yourself?” The others stared in shock as Daddy turned around. Ryan was completely petrified. “Aww, did my baby boy have an accident? Someone couldn’t even wait until we got to McDonald’s. Oh look at you, you’re soaked! And… Oh my goodness, you went poopies too didn’t you?” There was now a considerable audience to Ryan’s predicament. He could feel tears of humiliation building as Daddy put his arm around him. “Don’t worry little Ryan, Daddy’s here. C’mon, let’s get you changed and cleaned up.” Daddy escorted Ryan away, making sure to walk straight through Jeremy’s group. “Excuse me boys, my lil guy had a big accident so he needs to be changed.” Ryan didn’t dare make eye contact with any of his friends, but he could hear them immediately burst into laughter as daddy walked him to the checkout. “Excuse me ma’am, but my boy here had an accident. Do you think there’s a toilet or changing room nearby where we can get him cleaned up?” The cashier directed Daddy to a changing room nearby. Ryan could feel the eyes of the entire store on him as he was escorted away. He couldn’t help it anymore; he started sobbing. He had never felt so humiliated and degraded in his life. He actually just had an accident in public. Not only that, he shat himself in front of his friends. What the hell were they going to think of him now? Chapter 16 - Back to Basics... Again Once they were alone in the changing room, Daddy threw his arms around Ryan and grabbed him in a tight bear hug. “Shhh… It’s ok, little guy. Daddy knew he shouldn’t trust you in big boy pants. Back to diapers for you. Let’s get you all cleaned up and dressed properly, okay?” Ryan calmed down a little, and just sniffled as daddy unfolded a big changing mat over the cold linoleum floor. He closed his eyes as Daddy pulled his shorts and peeled his briefs off. Ryan dared to peek again as Daddy tutted. “Definitely not a big boy, even these shorts are ruined!” Indeed, the back of the shorts was stained brown as the mess had seeped through his briefs. He couldn’t stop himself whimpering again. “Shhh, don’t cry baby. Here.” Daddy pushed Ryan’s paci into his mouth, and he started sucking immediately. He didn’t care how babyish he felt, it was the only thing that made him feel better right now. After wiping Ryan’s thoroughly poopy bottom down, Daddy pulled out a bottle of powder and not one, but two thick diapers from the bag he had brought in. How coincidental that as soon as Daddy had brought that bag with him, Ryan had a huge accident that necessitated it… Except maybe it wasn’t an accident. Well, it certainly was for Ryan… But maybe Daddy had planned it all. He wanted Ryan to mess in public so he could humiliate him beyond anything else he’d ever experienced. Ryan felt so desperately helpless. He was now beginning to realise just how much power Daddy had over his life. Daddy powdered him up and taped both diapers around his waist. One was thick by itself, but this was something else. “That was a big accident you had, little man. It’s a good thing Daddy packed a change of clothes too, you ruined these shorts and briefs! Daddy’s gotta keep you in double diapers for a while, I think, if you’re having such big accidents. Don’t wanna risk ruining any else of your nice clothes.” Daddy pulled out a change of outfit - his “favourite” light blue T-shirt with tiny teddy bears and bottles adorning every inch, and a pair of denim shortalls with a Winnie-the-Pooh print adorning the bib and snaps in the crotch for easy diaper access. Ryan tried to blink back the tears as Daddy dressed him in the humiliatingly infantile outfit. He got terrified for a moment when it seemed like the snaps weren’t going to fit over his diapers, but thankfully they eventually snapped into place. But that was only a small consolation. Standing up, Ryan still looked incredibly infantile; the shortalls did absolutely nothing to hide the massive diaper bulge and the plastic rims even peeked out of the leg holes. His butt looked massive, and if it wasnt obvious enough to almost anyone that he was wearing a big diaper underneath his clothes, the forced waddle caused by his legs being spread apart by the thick plastic and the extremely audible crinkle was proof. And the Velcro shoes and socks combo may have made him look like a bit of a kid before, but now combined with his new outfit, he looked nothing more than an absolute baby. “Good baby,” Daddy chuckled. “One last thing…” He retrieved a Winnie the Pooh pacifier clip from the bag, and attached it to his shortalls bib. “Daddy knows how much you love your binkie little man, so this is so you don’t lose it.” Ryan suckled in meek appreciation. “Okay, back to shopping and then lunch!” Chapter 17 - Baby on Board Ryan felt as if the eyes of the entire store were on him as Daddy marched him by the hand toward the cashier. It didn’t matter that no one was particularly staring aside from a few double takes. The undeniably and overtly infantile outfit, the massive bulge in his crotch, the obvious crinkle sound that Ryan made with every step that now seemed louder than ever (or maybe Ryan was just more conscious of it than ever), and of course the goofy waddle that the thick diapers and Daddy’s brisk stride forced him into… Ryan would’ve felt completely humiliated even if there was no one in the store at all. “Sorry about that,” Daddy said cheerfully to the cashier. “My poor lil guy had an accident so we had to get him all changed and dressed more appropriately.” Ryan blushed furiously as Daddy ruffled his hair. The cashier smiled at Ryan bemusedly, looking his outfit up and down. Ryan realised he had still been sucking away on his paci the whole time and spat it out immediately. “Ah ah ah, you keep that in for now, little guy.” Daddy immediately retrieved the pacifier hanging down on Ryan’s front and shoved it back in his mouth. Ryan whined quietly to himself. “You just keep sucking on your binkie until Daddy says so.” He turned to the cashier and chuckled, shaking his head. “Kids…” The cashier continued staring at Ryan even while he was scanning the items. “So if you don’t mind me asking,” he started, “why is he dressed like a baby and all? It’s a pretty good costume.” “Oh this isn’t a costume,” Daddy smiled, “these are little Ryan’s normal clothes! He is kind of just a big baby boy, you see. He uses his diapers, sleeps in his crib and plays with his toys and everything. Normally at home I just keep him in a T-shirt and diaper; makes it easier to see when he needs changing. He’s a little stinker, all right! Aww, he’s embarrassed. It’s ok, little guy, we’ll go get you some lunch now, yeah?” Ryan was just about in tears again as Daddy led him out of the store finally. He could’ve sworn he saw the cashier whip out his phone and record his crinkly waddling bottom as he left. Finally he was in the car, the car seat straps feeling even tighter against Ryan’s massively puffy crotch. Daddy pinched his cheek and smiled. “Don’t worry baby, you’re still a good boy even if you did have a big accident. It’s ok, daddy just knows now that he needs to keep you in diapers properly now. Let’s go get you some num nums!” Ryan was at least happy to have some reprieve from the constant baby food. It was almost a slight relenting in Daddy’s constant babying, in a way. Except for the fact that Daddy still chose his meal for him (a happy meal, which daddy cut up for him), he still had to wear his bib, Daddy still fed him and he still had to drink his milk from his bottle - Daddy specially requested the cashier to put his milk in his bottle. And Ryan still ended up a mess with ketchup all over his face as per usual. Before leaving, Daddy stuck a finger into his shortalls; he was indeed wet. He didn’t even remember going at all. “Soggy already! Well, it’s about time we headed home anyway. You’re well overdue for your nap. Those double diapers can hold a lot, so I won’t need to change you for a bit.” He was right; Ryan was already getting sleepy. It was a totally exhausting day. The rest of the afternoon played out much as usual. After his nap, Daddy thankfully changed him into his normal diapers, and he watched some Teletubbies for being a good boy. After the usual mushy dinner and a bath, he was put down to bed. The events of the day out earlier were still vivid in Ryan’s mind. You might wonder why he didn’t just try and escape or protest against Daddy’s humiliating treatment of him. Well, it was pretty simple - starting from the moment he messed himself in the store, Ryan was completely rock hard, more so than he had ever been in his life. The experience was humiliating, sure, but it was also incredibly hot and one of his deepest fantasies brought to life. And now he was still just as horny as then. He was going to be a good boy for Daddy and not touch it… but fuck it, he’d be going home tomorrow anyway and he wouldn’t be able to sleep with this anyway. He rolled onto his front and started vigorously humping the crib mattress. He furiously sucked his pacifier as he quickly approached climax, thinking of what a stinky, naughty baby he had been and how Daddy had humiliated him. He completely exploded into his diaper, barely suppressing his moans. He rolled back onto his back and smiled. Tomorrow he’d have some explaining to do to his friends, but he’d cross that bridge when he got to it. Tonight was his last chance to enjoy this blissful sensation, before he went home the next day to his big life. Of course, he wouldn’t be going anywhere. But he didn’t know that. He just sucked his paci, cuddled his plushie and drifted off to a peaceful sleep, his diaper growing warm and wet as he did. Chapter 18 - This Is Your Home Now And so Ryan woke up that morning to Daddy gently shaking him awake, saying that his time was up and that it’s time for him to go back home now. Ryan was sad to leave, but grateful that he was now able to return to his normal life after two whole weeks as a baby. He could walk, talk like an adult, use the bathroom and eat proper food! He felt kinda silly in his briefs after two weeks of diapers, but he was happy he had this experience. It was fun being a baby, but he was glad it wouldn’t be a full time dealio; he just wouldn’t be able to handle that. He burst into his front door and said, “Mom, Dad, I’m home!” His mom came bustling into the foyer and gave him a big hug. “How did you guys go when I was gone?” “Oh we did fine, your father just did some work on the garage and I kept myself busy with the office work and all that. And how was your trip? Did you see lots of sights and good morning baby boy! Rise and shine, time for num nums!” Ryan froze. "Wait… what did you say? His mom was still smiling as she broke away from him and continued. “Goodness me you’re a soggy baby this morning!” “Wha’ the he’ iss goin’ on?!” Ryan said, or more appropriately mumbled, because his speech was garbled by the pacifier now in his mouth. Mom suddenly grabbed his diapered crotch, which was definitely wet. Wait a minute… diapered?! Ryan looked down and found himself suddenly dressed in a light blue Care Bears onesie with a very thick (and soggy) bulge in his crotch that could only mean he was well diapered and in need of a change. “Let’s get you changed, baby boy,” Mom said, but this time, her voice was much deeper and masculine, just like Daddy’s voic– Ryan awoke with a start to Daddy leaning over him in his crib, lowering the side rail. “Well good morning sleepy head!” Ryan looked around to see himself still in the nursery. It was just a dream, then. But today was still the day for him to go home. “You’re a soggy little baby boy aren’t you? Almost leaking, even! Daddy’s gonna have to put you in thicker diapers for bedtime from now on, I think.” From now on? But Ryan was going home today. Daddy really was committed to the role play. Daddy picked him up and changed his soggy bottom as usual. He got ready for his sodden diaper to be replaced with the thin white briefs that would herald his return to adulthood… only to find his nostrils confronted with the sweet smell of baby powder, his ears with a distinct plastic crinkling sound, and when he opened them, his eyes with the sight of a thick diaper being unfolded for Daddy to tape onto Ryan’s waist. Was he going to be sent home in a diaper? Perhaps a memento of his stay? Ryan was quietly contemplating while Daddy set to work at his usual routine, sliding the diaper underneath Ryan’s bum and taping it round his waist. And then his outfit… Daddy retrieved a blue Sesame Street snap shouldered T-shirt, but nothing else over his diaper. Ryan was a bit confused now. Surely he wasn’t going to send him home in this? Breakfast time, and Ryan was still confused. It had definitely been two weeks, but there was not a single change in Daddy’s demeanour as he spoonfed Ryan in his highchair and bib as he had always done these last fourteen days. Ryan went to try and ask Daddy when he would be going home today, but was swiftly silenced with a spoonful of oatmeal. One baba and a burping later, and Daddy took Ryan back upstairs, sat him down and looked him in the eye. This must be it. “Playtime, baby Ryan!” Or not. “Daddy…” Ryan said hesitantly, not sure how to put it. “Yes, sport?” “Well, I mean… uh…” “Come on little man, use your words.” “Well it’s been fourteen days now…” “Goodness me, has it? Well, the time flies doesn’t it?” He chuckled and picked Ryan up, taking him over to the rocking chair and sit him on his knee. “Uh… So when was I gonna go home?” Daddy chuckled again and bounced Ryan on his knee. “Silly baby! You are home.” Ryan was extremely lost. “No, I mean, it’s over now, and I get to go back home to my normal life and–” “This is your home now, baby. And this is your normal life now too. You’ll be living with Daddy from now on.” Ryan paused, and then it dawned on him what he was saying. “But-- no, you can’t do tha–” Ryan was immediately silenced as Daddy tutted and shoved Ryan’s pacifier into his open mouth - but this time he secured it with a strap so that he couldn’t spit it out. This was immediately followed by his hands being encased in the mittens that he usually earned for touching himself. His eyes went wide with fear and he tried to protest, but as usual the pacifier reduced all his words to incomprehensible babble. Daddy smiled and grabbed Ryan closely, rocking back and forth as he gently rubbed the terrified boy’s back. “There there, little baby… it’s ok, Daddy’s got you. You thought that Daddy was going to let you go back to your big boy life now, didn’t you?” He chuckled again. “Silly baby. Daddy knows what little Ryan needs, and it’s not big boy pants. Because you’re not a big boy anymore, Ryan. You really are just a little baby who needs to be back in diapers permanently. I mean, just look at what happened yesterday when you went poopy in your pants! No, you’ll be living with Daddy for good from now on. But don’t worry, it’s ok, Daddy knows just what his little baby wants and needs. He doesn’t need any of those silly big boy things like school or cars; he just needs his paci, his baba, his teddy and his daddy to change his diapies whenever!” Daddy sniffed and smiled deviously at Ryan. “Oh, in fact, I think Ryan might need that last one right away!” Ryan was thoroughly confused, until Daddy cheerfully patted his diapered bum, and Ryan felt a sensation that had never felt so horrific - the distinct smushing of poop up against his butt, and the unfortunate smell of a very stinky diaper. Ryan was petrified in complete shock. He had absolutely no memory of even feeling the need to mess, let alone actually doing it. In just two weeks, had he really just been completely un-potty trained?! His emotions were in a daze as Daddy pinched his cheek and said, “don’t worry baby, Daddy is always here to change your stinky diapers.” Ryan was completely checked out as Daddy changed his diaper and laid him down in the crib for an early nap time. But this time, Daddy strapped him down tightly to the mattress, ensuring he could barely move an inch let alone try and escape. “I know you’re probably upset about not going back to big boy pants,” Daddy cooed as he tucked Ryan in. “But you’ll learn to love it, little man. Daddy just wants what’s best for you, and it just so happens that what’s best is that you’re kept in diapers and as a baby for your own good.” He kissed Ryan on the forehead, eyes still wide with fear, and closed the curtains before locking the door behind him. Ryan looked around him, since it was the only thing he could do. He couldn’t move his legs, or his arms, or even his fingers since they were encased in super thick padded mittens. He couldn’t even talk, only suck on his pacifier that was strapped around his head. He looked at the bars of the crib, now seeming like the bars to his infantile jail cell. All Ryan had wanted was two weeks to live out his fantasy, and then straight back home, no strings attached. Well, he got his wish. Ryan kept sucking away on his pacifier - he couldn’t stop himself even if he wanted to. It just made him so calm and peaceful. Even after everything that had just happened, he could feel himself drifting off to sleep somehow. His mind was screaming to resist, to stay awake knowing that this was just part of Daddy’s plan. He had to try and escape at the first possible opportunity. But right now the sleep was overwhelming - Ryan could barely keep his eyes open, and the rhythmic sucking didn’t stop. The last thing Ryan before he closed his eyes was the “Baby Ryan” sign emblazoned above his crib. Two weeks ago, Ryan thought it was a cute nickname and a sign of his role in the little role play. But right now, it was clear that this wasn’t a cute nickname anymore - “Baby Ryan” was no longer role play, it was a life sentence. Chapter 19 - The Next Morning Ryan squinted as he woke up, the bright early morning sunlight streaming in from the windows. He had that dream again, that he was back to his normal life and treated like an adult once more. As his eyes came into focus, he saw the bars of the crib and his wider nursery again that confirmed it was all just a dream - he was indeed still trapped under Daddy’s care, still in diapers, and still a baby. The events of last night, indeed, were not a dream. He groaned and sucked his pacifier as he cuddled Robbie, his favourite plushie, as the distinct aroma of a super wet diaper greeted his nostrils. Normally he might try and enjoy this sensation, but yesterday Daddy had locked Ryan’s “peepee”, as he called it, in a chastity cage preventing him from even getting a boner, let alone being able to play with it. Ryan sighed as he rubbed his eyes - or tried to anyway, since the mittens stopped his fingers from actually doing anything. He wasn’t strapped down to the crib anymore, but that’s only because Daddy didn’t need to do it - the bars of Ryan’s crib were high enough that he couldn’t get any real grip with his mittens to climb out. He was truly trapped in this infantile prison. Things had changed dramatically since Daddy had abandoned all pretense of letting Ryan go the day before. He was still babied - Daddy still fed him, dressed him, changed his diapers and cared for him in every way. But it had changed for sure. Ryan didn’t feel calm or at peace anymore. Now that he knew Daddy fully intended on keeping him forever, Ryan felt completely helpless to resist. He was now hyper-aware of how little control he had over his life now, and how much he was really beginning to regress. Yesterday he really did make poopies in his diaper without even realising… He barely had time to mull this over before Daddy came striding in, his usual jovial self. “Good morning baby! How’s my good little baby this morning?” He grabbed Ryan firmly and turned him over, so he could unbutton his onesie and check his diaper. Ryan noticed that much of the gentleness Daddy treated him with previously had all but evaporated, replaced with a sort of firmness that only made Ryan feel even more helpless as Daddy pulled the back of Ryan’s diaper. “Just soggy,” Daddy chuckled. “Good baby,” he pinched Ryan’s blushing cheek. “Time for num nums!” Daddy released Ryan from his crib and picked him up to carry him down to the kitchen. Daddy had fixed Ryan the usual breakfast of mushy oatmeal, and after locking him in the highchair tightly, he went about the usual routine of tying the bib round Ryan’s neck and getting his bottle ready. But before taking Ryan’s pacifier out, he gave him a stern look. “Now Ryan, you’ve got two choices. You can kick up a fuss and try and act like a big boy if you want. But all that’s going to earn you is your binkie back in your mouth, a good spanking and the rest of the day in the crib with an enema cleanout to stop your fussing. Or, you can be a good baby and eat your num nums for dadda without a fuss at all. So, tell me - are you going to be a good baby?” Ryan sucked on his paci and nodded up at Daddy. He knew this wasn’t the right time to try and formulate an escape anyway - he had to make Daddy let his guard down, and as much as he hated it, Ryan knew that meant he had to fully submit to the treatment at least for a bit. Daddy removed the pacifier straps and finally let Ryan’s jaw move freely again. “I want to hear you say it. Are you going to act like a big boy?” Ryan swallowed and adopted the cute childish tone that Daddy had trained him to use. “No Dadda, I won’t.” “And what will you be?” “I’ll be a good baby.” “Because…?” Ryan swallowed hard and blushed as he said it: “Because I am a baby.” Daddy smiled widely. “That’s right Ryan. You’re just a widdle baby boy and nothing more. And once we get some num nums in baby’s tummy, we’re going to start some new methods to make little Ryan into the happiest little baby in the land!” Ryan gulped inwardly as Daddy started spooning the familiar mushy muck into (and onto) Ryan’s mouth. That window of opportunity for escape seemed to be getting smaller and smaller… Chapter 20 - Who’s a Good Baby? After breakfast, Ryan found himself back in the nursery again. But there were two new additions that he swore were never there before - a huge TV screen, much bigger than the old one, and what looked like an oversized baby bouncer facing it. Daddy hoisted Ryan up into it and strapped him in tightly. “Daddy’s got some fun stuff for baby Ryan to watch while Daddy does some work. It’s a special show just for babies so Daddy can’t watch it!” He ruffled Ryan’s hair and squeezed his still soggy crotch. Daddy strapped the paci back in Ryan’s mouth and popped a pair of headphones over his head. And then, Ryan was alone. He could barely move at all - just sorta wriggle and squirm to make him bounce up and down. He whimpered behind his paci as he felt more helpless than ever. Suddenly, the massive screen burst into life and a whimsical childish tune started filling his ears. A bunch of happy teddy bears were dancing across the colourful screen to a simple rhythm. It caught Ryan’s attention and he was a little captivated. The melody was gentle and soothing, and the way the bears danced back and forth on screen was transfixing. He started sucking his paci to the rhythm of the music and bobbing his head along too. He felt very soothed and blissful as he happily sucked his binky. “Snap out of it!” He thought to himself, breaking free from his infantile trance state. He had to avoid whatever this bizarre show was doing to him and fight the hypnotic spell. But all he could do was try and avoid looking at the screen, and when he did, it felt like the hypnotic music grew louder and louder, and all Ryan wanted to do was suck his binkie and watch the funny bears dance across the screen and bounce up and down. He was vaguely aware of his diaper growing warm and wet as it pressed up against his skin, but he thought no more of it once his eyes were glued back to the screen. Suddenly, the bears stopped dancing, but the music continued at a lower volume. The “head” bear looked at the camera and said, “It’s baby time! Who’s a big boy?” The bear pointed at the screen… no, the bear pointed right at Ryan. “Are you a big boy?” ‘Of course I am,’ Ryan thought to himself. “No’ me,” Ryan said clumsily behind the pacifier, not even thinking about his words as they just sort of tumbled out instinctively. “No, that’s right!” The bear said happily. “You’re just a baby!” Ryan smiled gleefully and nodded. “Who’s a good baby?” “I’m a goo’ bay-bee,” Ryan said. “Who’s just a baby?” “I’m jus’ a bay-bee!” “Good baby!” Ryan kicked happily and sucked his binkie in bliss. Yup, he was just a baby. Just a silly little baby who loved his daddy. “What do babies do?” One of the bears asked. The main bear smiled and said, “Well, that’s what we’re going to teach the baby!” Ryan felt a mix of emotions. He felt so oddly happy and gleeful, and wriggled about in his bouncer, but in the back of his mind he felt the terror of his now-suppressed adult consciousness that had seemingly been replaced with a powerful infantile bliss. It felt so good to submit to it. It felt so good to become a baby. It felt so right to be a baby. Ryan was a baby. Just a happy little baby. “First, babies suck their binkies.” Ryan sucked happily and kicked his feet. “Babies don’t drink from cups, they drink from their baba!” Ryan loved his milky babas that Daddy made for him. He wanted one now! “Babies always eat with a bib and love their num nums!” “And…” the main baby paused and looked straight at Ryan again… “babies make poopies in their diapees!” Ryan immediately felt a soft warm mush spread all over his bottom as he filled his diaper without a care in the world. Ryan’s adult mind was screaming in horror but his body had been taken over by a vastly powerful infantile power that just kept sucking his paci harder and harder as Ryan bounced up and down in his soiled diaper. The bears clapped. “Good baby!” They all said in unison. “Good babies always make stinkies in their diapees!” Ryan giggled and bounced, feeling the mess smushing up against his butt. It felt so good to be a good baby and make stinkies. He wanted to do it all the time now. He wanted to make Daddy happy. He knew that making Daddy happy meant he had to be a good baby. And now, Ryan knew that being a good baby meant making stinkies in his diapees. “Are you a big boy?” The bear asked again. Ryan empathically shook his head and said, “No!” “Are you a baby?” Ryan nodded energetically. “I’m a baby!” “Who’s a stinky baby?” “I am!” “Who’s a stinky baby?” “I’m a stinky baby!” “Good baby!” The screen and the colours began to swirl before Ryan’s eyes making his pupils dilate. Ryan sucked his binkie and bounced up and down in his poopy diaper as the first bits of his baby programming latched themselves onto his mind. Chapter 21 - Baby Wants His Baba “Showtime’s over, baby!” Ryan immediately jolted back to his senses. The film was over; long over, in fact. He completely blanked once the bears had appeared… and all he remembered was being all happy and blissful as he sucked his paci and– “Oh my, I think someone is a stinky baby!” Ryan’s ears immediately pricked up at that and he looked straight at Daddy. “Who’s a stinky baby?” Daddy chuckled as he unstrapped Ryan and hoisted him into his arms. Ryan felt it again - that overwhelming sense of bliss taking over his body. He started sucking his binkie to the rhythm of the music again. “You’re a good baby for going poopy in your diaper. Such a good baby. You like being a good baby, don’t you, Ryan?” Ryan looked at Daddy and immediately found himself nodding. He did like being a good baby and making Daddy happy. He wanted to know how else he could make Daddy happy. Daddy patted Ryan’s heavily poopy diaper and the sensation of poop smudging against his butt immediately snapped Ryan out of it. What the hell was that? He felt like he entered some sort of trance and all sense of self and maturity was replaced by infantile simplicity and bliss. Daddy chuckled again as he laid Ryan’s poopy butt down to change him. “There’s a good baby. Looks like your baby programming went very well. From now on, you’ll have no control over your poopies ever again. Don’t worry, this is just the beginning. We’ll work on your speech next, I think. Before long, you’ll learn to love your new life. You’ll be a real baby boy, Ryan!” Ryan’s eyes widened in terror as he realised what Daddy was doing to him. He didn’t just want to treat Ryan like a baby; he was now doing his best to make sure Ryan became a baby. And he was well on his way… “Time for a baba!” Ryan felt that gush of overwhelming babyishness flow through him again. ‘Babies love their babas,’ he remembered the bears saying. Silly bears, they were so colourful and cuddly. Maybe Daddy would get Ryan a bear like that if he was a good baby and drank his baba– Ryan snapped back to reality. This was really beginning to terrify him. Lying in Daddy’s lap, he tried to move away as Daddy brought the bottle to his lips. He knew that drinking the bottle in this state would only make his programming even harder to resist. Ryan had to resist. He had to break free of Daddy’s power and stop himself from being regressed into a mindless infant. But all he could do was close his mouth. “Open up, Ryan. Be a good baby and drink your baba.” It took all of Ryan’s willpower and then some to keep his mouth shut. The voice in his head was saying, ‘Daddy’s right, I am a baby and I need my baba, and I love my baba…’ Acting purely on reflex, Ryan knocked the bottle out of Daddy’s hand. Daddy looked very cross, and Ryan immediately regretted it. With one swift move, Ryan was thrust over Daddy’s knee and his diaper pulled down to expose his butt. SLAP! The spanks came hard and fast on Ryan’s butt and thighs. He’d been spanked before, but somehow this time felt even worse to Ryan. In fact, he could feel his emotions getting out of control. And then like a dam bursting, Ryan burst into tears and started howling with pain. It was a good minute of spanking before Daddy stopped, and Ryan was a complete blubbering mess. His face was red and hot and streaked with tears. Daddy looked him in the eye. “Now tell me, are you going to be a good baby?” Ryan sniffled and nodded. “Tell me.” “I-I’ll be a good baby,” Ryan whimpered out. “Do you want your baba?” “Yes Daddy…” “Say it properly!” Daddy slapped Ryan on the thigh again and made him sob. “Yes Daddy! I want my baba! I want my baba!” “Good baby.” Ryan was laid back in Daddy’s lap and the bottle offered again. This time, he took it without protest. Still a blubbery mess of emotion, he immediately latched onto the nipple and suckled the milk down fast. He just wanted his baba. Daddy put Ryan’s paci back in, but didn’t strap it in. He need not anyway, since Ryan passively accepted it and sucked. Back in the crib for nap time, Ryan tried to muster the resolve to calm down and think of a way out… but then the hypnotic music started playing gently, and Ryan felt his mind empty. He sucked his binkie to the rhythm, felt his diapee expand and grow warm as he wet and his eyelids grow heavy as he drifted off to a peaceful, dreamless sleep… just like a good baby should. Chapter 22 - Reprogramming Continues The next day, Ryan woke up as usual in the relatively early morning. He groggily stirred, sucked his paci and cuddled his teddy. He had slept so well; like a baby, even. Ryan rolled over and sat up. But it was when he sat his heavily diapered bottom on the mattress that he realised something was very, scarily different: he was met with the unmistakeable smushing sensation of a poop-filled diaper. Ryan froze in terror, and the smell of poop quickly reached his nostrils to confirm that yes, he had made stinkies in his diaper in his sleep. Ryan’s heart started pounding with terror. He really felt like he was losing his entire sense of adulthood and reverting back to infancy at a speed he never even thought possible. The most terrifying thing was, the only thought going through his head: ‘I want my Daddy’. His emotions were welling up inside of him and he felt like he would burst. Ryan opened his mouth and his paci fell out as he let out an involuntary whine before he came back to his senses and clasped his hands over his mouth. He really did just about cry because he needed a diaper change. He was losing himself already. Daddy came in at that, clearly hearing Ryan’s little whimpers. He praised Ryan for making stinkies as usual, which made him swell with happiness. Ryan really loved being a good baby and making stinkies. Ryan shook his head again, clearing the haze. He felt so powerless up against these infantile traits that seemed to be slowly taking over his mind. After a diaper change and breakfast, Daddy announced it was time for Ryan’s show again. This time, Ryan wasn’t locked in his bouncer or had his paci strapped in, but was just sat in front of the TV. Daddy said he was just going to go to the store while Ryan got to enjoy some more baby conditioning and reprogramming. He kissed Ryan on the cheek and left. Ryan was alert. This was his chance! He waited to hear Daddy’s car leave the driveway, as the screen burst into life again. The music penetrated his mind and he started sucking his binkie to its rhythm once again. He loved his binkie, it made him feel so happy and peaceful and reminded him of his baba, which he also loved. The bears danced onto the screen and Ryan beamed widely. He couldn’t stop himself from clapping a little bit with glee. It was his favourite show! His adult conscience screamed in horror as it knew another aspect of himself was about to be reverted back to infancy, but the hypnotic power of the bears had already taken hold of Ryan completely. He took absolutely no notice of the fact that he was wetting himself without the slightest semblance of control. The session yesterday had seemingly completely taken away his toilet training. “Who’s a good baby?” The bears asked again. “I am!” Ryan said happily. “I’m a good baby!” “Yes you are! Are you ready for your next baby lesson?” Ryan’s adult consciousness was begging with his overpowering baby self to resist. ‘Just get up. Look away, stand up and go. The door is wide open, he’s gone. You can escape before it’s too late.’ “Yes!” Ryan said, nodding. “This is a big one… can you count to ten with us?” The bears counted, and Ryan counted along with them. Easy! “Good baby! Now you try again!” Ryan started counting alone. “One, two… three… uh… f-five… no… that’s not right…” Ryan was confused. He knew what came after three, and it wasn’t five, it was… wait… what was it?! Ryan didn’t know what came after three. The information was genuinely absent from his mind. He looked up in confusion and shock. “Good baby! Babies don’t need to count, that’s what Daddy is for! No more numbers for you, baby.” Ryan nodded emphatically at the bears. That made sense! Of course babies don’t need numbers. That’s a big boy thing! “Now look around the room. You should see some words.” Ryan did so; he saw a big picture book in the corner and grabbed it. It was a simple story about bears, of course, “The Bears in the Woods”. “Now read those words, baby.” He opened the book and found a random sentence. “The bears loved the woods; they would always frolick and play together,” Ryan read slowly and out loud. He looked up at the screen again. The main bear looked him straight in the eye, and said, “Good baby! But I think you should try again!” Ryan looked down and went to read again, but the words had changed. In fact, they weren’t words at all now - they were just unintelligible squiggles. Ryan turned the pages of the book frantically, but saw only more squiggles. He closed the book and looked at the title - but it too was just a mass of nonsense squiggles. “Good baby! Babies don’t need to read. Daddy reads for baby! No more reading for baby!” Ryan had just completely lost the ability to read and count, but he didn’t mind right now. In his utterly transfixed and hypnotised state, he felt right. “One more thing… babies need to be talking like babies too! Say, ‘Daddy’.” Ryan repeated. The bears continued reciting a bunch of words to Ryan for a good few minutes, as Ryan repeated them back to them. ‘Diapee’, ‘stinkies’, ‘baba’… all babyish words that sounded very cute and infantile, as well as normal words like ‘thank you’ and ‘please’ that had been babified into ‘fankyoo’ and ‘pwease’. At the end, the bears praised Ryan again, and he swelled with happiness. “Good baby!” The screen started swirling again, and Ryan’s pupils dilated again. In the absence of his binkie, he shoved his thumb in his mouth and started sucking away to the beat. The programming continued to take over his brain as the door laid wide open. The front door was even unlocked. But Ryan didn’t even notice anymore. Any thought of escaping had long been wiped from his thoughts. He just sucked his thumb and stared at the colours and swirls as he descended further and further into infancy. Daddy came back to find Ryan asleep on the floor, his thumb in his mouth as he gently ducked, and his diaper soaked. Daddy smiled. Ryan was ready for another day out. Chapter 23 - Another Grand Day Out “Wakey wakey! Naptime’s over, baby!” Ryan opened his eyes in surprise. He was in the crib again, on his stomach, with his thumb planted in his mouth. He sucked it placidly for a few seconds before coming to and yanking it out, covered in drool. He blushed furiously at his infantile transgression, but Daddy just chuckled and ruffled his hair. “Good baby,” Daddy smiled. “You’re such a good little boy, Ryan. You love being Daddy’s baby, don’t you?” Ryan’s trance was reactivated with the words “good baby”. His thoughts emptied out of his mind, and he was transfixed on Daddy. He loved his big strong Daddy. And he did love being a baby. He was a baby. Nothing more. He smiled vacantly and nodded. Daddy smirked. “Time for a diapee change, tiger! You’re soaked! Besides, we’ve got somewhere to be soon. Daddy needs to take his baby to see a special doctor for a checkup, but we need to run some errands first!” Ryan got jolted back to reality as Daddy laid his soaked butt down on the changing table. At first he was mildly terrified of the prospect of another public humiliation… but then he realised this was a chance to escape! Surely he’d be able to signal to someone that he was being kept prisoner, and someone would rescue him from Daddy’s clutches. Daddy put Ryan into double thick diapers again, and picked out the cutest outfit again: a sailor suit with the smallest pair of shorts Ryan had ever seen. They did absolutely nothing to hide the massive diaper bulge in front and back, and the leg bands of the diaper could be easily seen through the extremely brief leg holes. Daddy wasn’t bothering with big boy wear this time. Daddy got ready and packed Ryan’s diaper bag ready for the day out. Ryan squirmed nervously while he watched: Daddy stuck a few diapers, powder, baby wipes, his paci, bottle, a bib, spoon and some baby food… and what looked like a very babyish but nonetheless intimidating harness. Daddy noticed Ryan’s nervous look and chuckled. “This is just for naughty babies who try and run off. But that’s not you, is it, little guy?” Ryan nervously shook his head. “Do you know what you are?” Daddy grinned. Ryan squirmed in discomfort as Daddy leaned in to whisper in his ear. “You’re a good baby.” Ryan could feel that overwhelming warmth flood his body at those words. Whenever Daddy called him a good baby, everything just seemed so much nicer, so much more colourful and warmer, and so much happier. It was the most overwhelming sensation he’d ever felt, and it was impossible to resist. Daddy grinned widely and gently pushed Ryan’s paci into his mouth, which Ryan immediately accepted and sucked to the rhythm of that music that was now resonating around his brain. He heard the bears’ voices in his head. ‘Good baby’, they chanted in unison to the rhythm of the music. Suckle suckle suckle. Good baby. He opened his eyes and looked at Daddy, who was carrying him to the car. Daddy smiled down at Ryan and pinched his cheek and said it again: ‘Good baby’. Ryan smiled behind his paci as Daddy patted his super thickly padded bottom, making Ryan giggle. The mantras of the bears kept resonating in Ryan’s head. Good baby. Good baby. Just a baby. Just a baby. Daddy’s baby. Just Daddy’s good baby… The click of a car seat lock encasing Ryan’s crotch finally brought him out of his deep trance properly. Daddy had been free to secure Ryan in his car seat, and no amount of fiddling with the straps or lock could budge it at all. In fact, Daddy chuckled at his efforts when he climbed into the drivers’ seat. Ryan could only sit in nerve wracked anticipation as Daddy drove him off, without a single clue of where he was being taken or what awaited him. As they stopped at a light, another car pulled up right beside them. Ryan was wise enough to know (with a stern look from Daddy as a reminder) that things could only get so much worse if he tried to make a scene in front of these people - after all, he was tightly strapped into this car seat, so there was no escape from his wrath. But Ryan did suddenly become much more conscious of how infantile he looked as he looked down at his adorable sailor suit outfit, and then he looked back at the adjacent car and realised the occupants (a young teenage couple) were staring at him. Ryan immediately spat the pacifier out and went bright red; he could’ve sworn he recognised the guy from school. Daddy tutted and said, “You’re a fussy baby tonight, aren’t you?” He grabbed the dangling paci and shoved it straight back into Ryan’s mouth. “You keep your binkie in for now. The couple started laughing and Ryan went bright pink with humiliation. But he still dared not resist or protest - he was in no such position of power to do anything of the sort. He could only suck his pacifier to try and forget the humiliation. He started sucking that pacifier a lot faster though when Daddy pulled up at their destination. “Here we are, lil guy… a playground!” Chapter 24 - Park Time Ryan looked around the park in trepidation. It was a big park; lots of swings, slides, merry-go-rounds, those bouncy horses on a spring, and a few benches as well. It was also totally empty, and Ryan was unsure if that was a blessing or a curse. He could only assume one thing: Daddy was expecting him to play. Daddy took him by the hand and led him over to the swings first, in a brisk stride that made Ryan waddle in an almost comical way as he tried to cope with the huge diaper in his far-too-brief shorts. He could only imagine how massive his butt looked, and he was partly grateful that the park was deserted… but his heart sank once he realised it meant escaping Daddy would be impossible without other people around. He wasn’t dumb enough to just try and run away; he needed a real and proper distraction. Daddy picked Ryan up and sat him in the swing seat. “Play time for baby,” he cooed while he pushed Ryan gently in the swing. Daddy made him play on all the equipment, and made sure to supervise him closely at every step - Ryan went bright red when he realised it was because Daddy was filming and taking pictures of his playtime. “Isn’t this fun?” Daddy chuckled. Ryan had to nod; he couldn’t tell if it was the brainwashing or not, but he couldn’t help but smile and enjoy the playground, especially the merry-go-round while Daddy spun him round and round. It aroused the playful child in him - the one that always enjoyed playgrounds and parks such as these but never got the chance to once it became socially unacceptable for someone his age to still play like this. He needn’t worry about that now. After a good half hour of play, Daddy led Ryan over to the park bench, his soggy diaper making him waddle all the way (when did he go? He didn’t remember anymore). The bib went round his neck and the usual routine of spoonfed mush followed. Ryan was extra nervous about people seeing, and for good reason - a jogger couple ran by, distracting Ryan as he made eye contact with him. He must had looked one hell of a sight with his big Cookie Monster bib and face all covered in mushy baby food, and Daddy certainly didn’t help matters when the spoon collided with Ryan’s cheek while he was distracted, smearing the entire side with yellow mush. “You really are a cranky one tonight, huh?” Daddy chided a little too loudly. “Stop being a fussy baby and open wide for Daddy!” The couple gawked as they passed, and Ryan blushed furiously. But he had to stay calm. His opportunity had yet to come. The babyish humiliation would just have to be endured… but how much longer could he take it? After a milky baba and a wipe down, Ryan was made to continue playing. Daddy took dozens of photos and made Ryan pose on the equipment. And just as Ryan was bouncing on the bouncy horse, a big warm smushy sensation began to cover his rear end. He groaned inwardly as his bowel muscles betrayed not a single ounce of control and Ryan uncontrollably messed himself again. Daddy smiled at Ryan - he knew exactly what happened. “What’s wrong, baby? Do you need Daddy’s help?” Ryan nodded solemnly. “Aww… did baby make a stinky?” Without warning, he pulled Ryan towards him and yanked down his shorts, exposing his massive diaper butt for all to see. “That’s okay, baby, we can still play for a while longer.” He chuckled and patted Ryan on the butt, making him whine as the mess was mushed about. He was about to put Ryan back on the horsie when two guys talking loudly rounded the corner. Daddy looked around for a second, and Ryan realised that now was his chance! While Daddy was distracted, Ryan kneed him in the crotch and punched him in the gut. Daddy was taken aback and doubled over, giving Ryan the chance to sprint away… well, he tried to sprint, but forgot about the bulky poopy diaper around his waist so he stumbled and fell on his face, but quickly got up and corrected himself into a very fast but awkward waddle. The joggers saw Ryan approaching them and stopped in their tracks, speechless at the sight of this flustered young man in a sailor suit sans pants and a very big and saggy diaper around his waist, waddling towards them. Ryan caught his breath and quickly said to the guys, “You gotta help me! I’ve been kidnapped by a lunatic who’s forcing me to be his baby! I need the cops!” Well, at least that’s what Ryan thought he said. What actually came out of Ryan’s mouth was, “You gotsta help me! I made a big poopie in my diapee. I need my dadda!” Ryan looked confused at the guys for a second as they looked bemused at each other and started trying not to laugh, before he realised what he said and immediately clasped his hands over his mouth. There was absolutely no way that was what he was trying to say. “No, that’s not what I meant to say! He’s brainwashing me into becoming a mindless baby, and I can’t resist!” Well, it actually sounded more like, “Nooooo, I made big stinkies! I want my Daddy!” “Oh yeah?” one of the guys taunted. “You need your daddy, little baby?” Ryan was freaking out. He realised that the programming earlier hadn’t just wiped his brain of the ability to read or count, but now it had somehow reduced his vocabulary to the level of a 3-year-old toddler’s. “Aww, look at the little baby,” they taunted. “Holy crap, you stink! Did you actually shit your diaper? Jesus Christ, you are a baby!” “I’m not a baby!!” Ryan whined… or rather, “I want my baba!!” “Aww, don’t cry baby. Looks like your Daddy’s coming right over!” Ryan didn’t even have a chance to turn around before he felt a large rubber nipple suddenly fill his mouth and Daddy’s firm hand grasp his shoulder after shoving Ryan’s binkie in his mouth. “Shhh, silly baby. You know better than to run away from Daddy. I’m gonna have to keep an extra close eye on you now so you don’t try and run off.” “Jeez,” one of the guys laughed. “You’d have to keep him on a leash!” Daddy laughed. “Funny you should mention that, actually…” Ryan felt that sinking feeling as Daddy rummaged around in the diaper bag and retrieved the harness that Ryan dreaded so much. In no time, Ryan was quickly fastened into it, with Daddy tightly clutching the leash. Ryan whimpered. His escape attempt, pitiful as it was, had indeed failed and he knew Daddy wasn’t gonna let his guard down like that ever again. The guys were still snickering at him, just as Daddy was fussing over his straps and making sure he was locked in tight. The constant taunting of the two guys, the humiliation of Daddy’s constant fussing, the pervasive smell of his stinky diaper, and most of all the knowledge that he had failed to escape his baby prison… it all became too much for Ryan, and he couldn’t stop himself bursting into tears. He realised how pitiful he looked as he sucked his binkie and the tears rolled down his cheeks. But he just couldn’t stop. The guys finally left, and Ryan started to calm down. But he was still miserable, and Daddy seemed to notice because he pulled Ryan in for a tight hug when they got back to the car after Daddy finally changed his smelly diaper. “It’s OK, Ryan. Daddy’s not mad that you tried to run away. In fact, I expected it. But I hope you understand now that there’s no way out. You’re going to be a baby no matter what, and it’s only going to make your life much easier and happier if you just accept it.” He stroked Ryan’s cheek, and Ryan said nothing, just continued to suck his pacifier to calm himself down. “Good baby,” Daddy smiled. The butterflies didn’t come that time, but for good reason - Ryan was angry. Daddy had reduced him to a humiliating little plaything, and Ryan realised that the more he got scared, the easier it was going to be for Daddy to brainwash him into submission. Well, no more of that. It was time to get mad. Daddy could take away all of his adult privileges and identity; he could take away his toilet training, his ability to read, his ability to count… he could even force him to speak like a baby. But he couldn’t break Ryan’s spirit. Chapter 25 - Six Weeks Later Six weeks had passed since Ryan’s little excursion out - although to Ryan, it could’ve been six days or six months, the days just blended into each other now. Ryan awoke to a gentle tinkle of his baby mobile, slowly spinning above his head. He loved watching the spinning stars and spaceships, and he sucked his binky mindlessly while he squirmed. Daddy stopped strapping him down at night so he could roll over and cuddle his bear without any trouble. Ryan’s tummy started rumbling so he sat up and squatted, frowning as he pushed some bad thoughts out of his mind. Once he did that, he sat back down but suddenly his diaper felt all squishy and stinky. He felt his emotions start to well up, and involuntarily he started sobbing, the pacifier falling out and dangling by a clip to his teddy bear onesie. Daddy came in after a few moments and started cooing, making Ryan immediately calm down a little. Daddy always made everything better. Daddy was making all of those scary thoughts and dreams that sometimes plagued Ryan go away for good. Daddy picked Ryan up and cuddled him closely, patting his stinky bottom. Daddy said... something to Ryan. Ryan found it hard to understand what Daddy said anymore, it kinda just sounded like happy noises from Daddy so it made Ryan happy but he didn’t really know what he actually said. Then Ryan was being carried down the hall. He thought he was gonna get a change, but Daddy had already taken him out of the nursery. Ryan couldn’t help but pout. He felt like he was forgetting something very big, but he couldn’t fathom what it was. His memory was getting fuzzier. Daddy placed Ryan down into his high chair and strapped him in. Breakfast, that must be what he forgot. Ryan squirmed involuntarily and the big stinky mess in his diaper squished against his bum. No, there was something else still. The bib went round Ryan’s neck and he tugged at it. “I’m a Good Baby”, it said. Ryan couldn’t read it, since it just looked like blocks and weird squiggles, but he nodded anyway. He was a good baby. He sucked his binky rhythmically and within moments, all of his conscious thought left his mind as if was quietly asked to leave. Ryan felt warm, fuzzy and comfy. His big stinky diaper felt all silly and poopy but he knew that big babies like him needed to make stinkies in his diaper. He wasn’t a big boy who could use the potty and eat big boy food and make choices for himself. Ryan was a baby who needed diapers and feeding and Daddy and bottles and he was never going to be big ever aga— The spoon collided with Ryan’s mouth and the mush smeared all over his face. Ryan was so zoned out that he didn’t even notice Daddy sit down with his big bowl of yummy baby mush for Ryan’s breakfast. Daddy said something again, and Ryan opened his mouth on command. He still didn’t know what Daddy said, but it sounded right anyway. He shifted in his high chair and felt the warm squishy mess smush up against his peepee now. He was so stinky but he didn’t even notice anymore. After breakfast, it would be time for his warm baba, a stinky diaper change, and then playtime. It was the same routine as ever. But what was it that he was forgetting? He was starting to worry that if he didn’t remember soon, he’d never remember it again. He didn’t know how right he was.

I thought I posted this a week ago, but apparently it didn't post properly 'cuz I can't find it anywhere! Sorry it's late! ... System Booting… User Profile Loading… Profile Loaded. Entering the Totalverse. “So you’re not going to tell me how long?” I asked, practically buzzing with excitement. I knew the answer. I wanted to hear it anyways, a confirmation of my fate. “Not even a hint, baby girl,” Daddy assured me. “If you want out, you’re going to have to earn it the hard way.” We’d both loaded into the full VR space for this, me naked, him fully clothed, and simply spawning the outfit onto my body didn’t feel intimate enough. He wanted to dress me for the occasion. The diaper was the obvious part, and my princess parts twitched just at the sight of the fluffy, plastic-rustling item in his hands. I knew this would be the hard part–the real test was of my willpower, whether I’d be able to make it through without breaking, and judging by how turned on I was just at the start, that was looking unlikely. Still, I wouldn’t give up. I let Daddy push me down onto the floor, raised my bottom off the ground, let him wrap me up in the diaper. The tapes were secured down, sticking in place, snug and cozy around my hips. This was only the foreplay. Next came the object that filled me with both dread and intense, burning excitement. It started with a plastic cover, all black save for the pink biohazard warning printed on the front. An indicator of things to come, I knew. He pulled it up my legs, and with a satisfying click, locked the cover over my waist. There was no key. Instead, it’d been programmed to only unlock if I was able to go without making stickies for… I didn’t know how long. A few days. Maybe a week. Daddy hadn’t told me, and I’d asked him not to. But that wasn’t nearly the least of it, because the back of the black plastic had a large open valve on the back. Daddy rolled me onto my tummy, and I felt another click as a bifurcated pink length of tubing was locked into place onto the valve. Daddy took my face in his hands and pulled it up, so that he could lower a large, solid mask over my nose and mouth. I could feel the rubber make a firm seal over the bridge of my nose, see just the edge of the plastic shell in the edges of my vision, and smell the stale air and slightly chemical plastic odor. One more ‘click’, as the mask’s harness latched into place over the back of my face, pulling the seal tightly against my skin. Every breath I took would be through this mask, and through a mix of snug design and simple programming, I could not remove it of my own volition. Finally, Daddy lifted both ends of the split hose, and with a pair of clicks, locked it into the valves on my mask. A simple conduit was formed, pulling air from around the seat of my diaper up through the hose, directly to my nostrils. I heard a fan whirr to life, and immediately my sense of smell was assaulted by a puff of baby powder and fresh diaper odor. I squirmed. “Does my voice sound funny?” In my own ears, the words sounded muted and muffled, but Daddy shook his head. “I can hear you loud and clear, princess. You’re all dressed up now, so remember–if you cum into your diaper, the clock will reset, and if you decide to give up, I’m going to put your cage back onto you for three months.” Swallowing, I nodded. I’d asked for this–I wanted the humiliation, the looming threat of what would happen as my diaper stayed on. We exited VR, and I examined myself. The AR was imperfect, but close enough–I could still feel my diaper wedged between my thighs, hear the rustle, smell the baby powder scent being pumped up to my nostrils, but a slight cognitive overlap existed. My normal clothes existed overtop the simulated rubber and absorbent matter, and looking down, my diaper and cover seemed to clip through the bottom of my dress. “I’ll see if anyone has better fabric simulation code,” Daddy said. “It doesn’t bother me,” I replied. “Honestly, I’d almost feel bad asking for anything better than this.” I reached down, feeling the front of my diaper through its plastic cover, where my princess parts burned with already-all consuming desire. “So…” I said. “If the timer resets when I cum…” Daddy smirked, scooting up next to me. “I think I see where this is headed. Should we take this upstairs before you use up any more time?” Nodding eagerly, I got to my feet. … My desire for restraint held out only for a couple hours against my burning need to give in to my desires. I felt the first cramps the next morning, and knew by the end of the day that my diaper would be full. Already I’d been huffing the stale odor of pee that’d soaked into my thirsty padding, but I wanted the desperate degradation that would come from packing that diaper seat until it bulged in its cover. On the other hand, I had no idea how long I was expected to keep this going. I could be stuck in this suit for days, and no matter how artificial the simulation, it still felt totally real to me. The mask strapped to my face wasn’t precisely comfortable, but worse than that, I didn’t know if I’d be dooming myself to be stuck far past the point where it stopped being fun if I gave in too early. I finally gave in a little after lunchtime, when the busy rush for my delivery job had died down. Ducking into a gas station bathroom, I fumbled through the simulation to pull down the clothes I wore in reality–plain jeans and underwear–and sat down on the toilet. As far as I could feel, my diaper squelched against the seat, and when I leaned forward a little and pushed, warm, solid mush swelled in the seat of my diaper. The fans in the rig whirred to life, and the sensory results were almost instant. The foul, earthy stink from my rapidly-filling diaper assaulted my nostrils, and my eyes fluttered with deep pleasure and humiliation as I inhaled. My princess parts hummed with need, pleading that I indulge in the moment fully, but my self control fought that need back. I knew, if I gave in, that this would stop being fun and start being torture, that the only thing that could make this continue to be bearable–or even desirable–was my own burning desire. Were I to give in and grind against the front of my squelching, sagging diaper for a minute or two, I’d be trading who-knows-how-many days of discomfort for a mere moment of satisfaction. Standing, I flushed the toilet and pulled my pants up, struggling to close the button and zip them up over the bulk of my diaper, feeling the denim press my overfull padding against my body. Anyone who saw me would just see a girl in jeans with an inexplicable blush. They didn’t know that I was constantly huffing in the fumes of my own humiliation. Unable to keep my desires to myself, I texted Daddy. ‘Something happened…’ His response came swiftly. ‘Aww, did you make a stinky diaper? Breathe deep, baby girl. You only need to wait another–oh, right, it’s a surprise. Enjoy!’ Squirming, I considered pleading for a hint as to how long I’d be trapped with a direct conduit from the seat of my diaper to my own burning nostrils, but I knew he wouldn’t tell. That was his secret to keep, and mine to wonder about. All I can say is, for the rest of the work day, I was extremely distracted. … “Please?” I whimpered, kneeling at Daddy’s feet. Another day had passed, and my diaper had swollen even further. The saturated, sodden padding around my princess parts had me blushing at every slight movement, and my constant stink had saturated my thoughts, slowly forcing out my ability to think of anything beyond my predicament. I’d wondered if I would go noseblind, but the sensation was so intense that it hadn’t had the opportunity to occur, and as I re-loaded my diaper up, packing it fuller, the stink refreshed itself. At least rash wasn’t a problem–we’d left that off the simulation on purpose, and my skin wouldn’t rash from simulated mess. Daddy smirked down at me. “I’m sorry, baby girl, but no. We can’t take your mask off and let you forget what a stinker you are, can we?” “But…” I stammered. “But I want to…” There were technically ways to object to his conclusion. I was able to partially ignore the simulation when I needed to eat or drink, suspending the simulation of the rubber mask strapped over my nose and mouth for long enough to get fuel into my body, but that was only due to necessity. And as much as I claimed otherwise, having Daddy’s cock in my mouth wasn’t a necessity. I knew it was a point of contention for him too–all his favorite holes were occupied and covered up–but he got more satisfaction out of seeing me whimper and plead than from giving in to my begging. All I knew was that I wanted pleasure, and if I couldn’t get it for myself, then focusing that energy on satisfying Daddy would have to serve as a sufficient substitute. Eyes huge and desperate, I asked, “Can I use my hands then?” He smiled broadly and nodded down at me. “Maybe…but first I need you to beg a little more for me.” … Four days. Four. I was on my last day until the weekend came, which was good, because my brain had been utterly consumed by one thing and one thing only, and that left little room for work. I stank. The smell of my diaper had drifted in through my nose and replaced my adult thoughts. I felt perpetually high, the perpetual cloud of mushy odors intoxicating. To do anything other than whimper and grind into my diaper took active, constant effort, and the desire to slip further into the smelly haze sang to me like a constant siren song. Near the end of my work day, I stopped into a gas station restroom, sinking into my massive mess over the toilet seat. I had to stifle a moan, my face burning red as I pushed out even more mass into my diaper. By now, it just seemed to vanish into the ever-swelling mountain of smushy weight, but this one seemed more intense than ever–more solid, more squelchy, more smelly. Wandering out of the bathroom in a daze, I finished the last two deliveries and puttered home, waddling heavily inside. Daddy was already there, and when he looked up at me, his expression went from amusement to surprise. “Baby girl–” “Hi, Daddy,” I said, falling into his arms. This was where I wanted to be. “Baby,” he repeated, reaching down to squeeze the back of my diaper. “Erm…you forgot to pull down your pants.” I blinked, confused. I…what? But my diaper… Oh… Oh no… My diaper wasn’t real. I knew that. But I’d forgotten to slip off my pants and underwear last time I used the toilet, and while I loaded up my simulated diaper, I also messed myself, in real life, without noticing. My face flushed bright red, blushing from forehead to chin. “I–um–” “Shh, it’s okay,” Daddy said, hugging me tighter. “I doubt anyone noticed. This is why you need diapers, silly.” Thinking back to strange expressions in the gas station I’d stopped to use the bathroom at, I wasn’t so sure, but I didn’t argue. Sniffing, I got a pure whiff of my stink. “How much longer, Daddy?” He paused. “Alright, I’ll tell you. I’d planned on making you wait until the end of the weekend, but if you’re too overwhelmed we can stop now.” The weekend… Two and a half days, give or take. I could wait that long. I shook my head. “I can make it, Daddy.” He smiled. “Alright, then, but let’s get you into a real diaper too–can’t have you ruining anymore of your big girl clothes, can we?” Nodding, I followed him to the bedroom to get clean, without really getting clean at all. … No thinking, just stinking. I could barely move. I’d gone past horny, any slight movement and squelch sent shivers down my spine. I was just a smelly, drooling thing, my mind overtaken by the state of my diaper. I’d lost track of whether my real, non-simulated diaper was clean or dirty. All I knew was stink, and sniff, and whimper. Daddy walked in, returning from…something. I didn’t know how long he’d been gone. He looked at me, surprised. “Have you been sitting there since I left?” I nodded, pawing impotently at the front of my bulging diaper, through the rustling plastic cover. “I’ve been gone for three hours,” he said. “What were you doing?” Opening my mouth, I mumbled a response, something like, ‘Stinking’, though the words were jumbled. Smirking, Daddy crouched down in front of me. “I think you’ve been a good girl all week,” he said. “Filling your diapers like a champ. Are you ready for your reward?” My…reward? I fought to focus my thoughts. He meant…OH! YES! Nodding eagerly, I said, “Please?” Daddy toggled something, and then reached up and pinched his nose. “Oh, it’s–escaping the suit, some. How can you breathe?” I just nodded again, eyes huge and pleading. Reaching down, Daddy pressed his hand into the front of my diaper, squelching everything against my princess parts. “You may, baby girl.” That was all the permission I needed. Throwing myself into the act, I began to rock into his hand, humping the front of my diaper furiously. I didn’t need long. I’d practically been edging for a week. Fire and ice and pleasure so intense it turned my limbs to jelly rolled through me, and I collapsed forward, into Daddy’s arms. I wrinkled my nose. “Um–” He pulled the mask free of my face, and I got my first whiff of comparatively clean air in a week. From his own expression, the smell was still bad, but the intensity was so comparatively minor that to me it was fresh daisies and spring wind. Kissing me on the forehead, Daddy said, “You did good, baby girl. I’m proud of you.” “Thanks, Daddy,” I replied. “Can we do this again sometime?” He nodded. “Of course, baby girl.” I squirmed in delight. ... 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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.

My Fav Things: Shower, specifically, getting a diaper full of water and rubbing it Enemas / Diarrhea (Do I even need to explain this nice feeling) Stain (using enema, diarrhea, pee) the backside, underside, front side, etc.. Pour oatmeal that I made watery on purpose into a clean diap Mineral / Castor Oil because it affects me in a way to where I have questionable poots that turn into a flood Squish the mess, pee, diaper fillers (oatmeal) Last but definitely not least: walk in public with a short skirt that exposes the diaper well

As the title suggests, I find messy blowouts really cute~ The smear of escaped poo on the inner thigh; The brown mess on the lower back. It's all super hot and gives a real feel of how messy you are under your diaper. Would recommend, and don't change right away. Being messy is fun~ Anyone else share this sentiment?

Once Upon A Time there was a Mommy, a Daddy, and a Little One. The Little One. Today The Little One had a very busy day. From the moment they awoke to the moment they were put down in their crib, it was a day full of fun with their Mommy and Daddy. Mommy and Daddy loved to dote on their Little One and today they had spent all day doing it. The Little One had a big yummy breakfast of rice cereal and formula while Mommy and Daddy had pancakes. After that, Daddy gave The Little One a bath with all their bath toys and rubber ducky friends. The Little One and Daddy would splash together and have lots of fun. Mommy and Daddy even took The Little One shopping. The poor Little One got all blushy when Mommy explained that no-one would notice their diapers hidden under their short-alls. That’s when Daddy noticed there was a special shopping cart, a “Caroline’s Cart”! It was trouble. The Little One pleaded to no avail, and found themselves buckled in place. They were so embarrassed. The Little One loved their polycule family very much, and Mommy and Daddy both loved The Little One just as much. They also loved to humiliate The Little One so they knew that even if they were the size of a “big kid”, they were just a tiny baby inside. When the whole family got to the baby aisle The Little One got really blushy and whiney. “Mommy, but what if someone …” “Shhh,” Daddy said and smiled. Mommy held up a cute little bib to The Little One’s chest, making The Little One feel even smaller inside. So small they wanted to crawl away and hide. But The Little One loved this feeling very much, and their Mommy and Daddy knew they loved it too. When they all got home with their shopping, The Little One was given a “big kid” lunch of dinosaur shaped chicken nuggets as well as mac and cheese. Locked away in their highchair they still had to drink their formula from a sippy cup and wear their new bib! The day went on and the three of them had so much fun! The Little One had a tantrum for naptime and had to be spanked and put in time out. The Little One hated time out the most. But Mommy and Daddy gave out hugs and kisses and forgave The Little One. The three of them had a lovely dinner. The Little One’s belly was so full after having so many spoonfuls of pureed prunes pushed in! “That’s it, eleven jars! Good job, Sweet Pea.” Mommy was so proud, it made The Little One feel warm and soft and squishy, even if their tummy was full. The only thing as good as praise from Mommy was praise from Daddy. Sometimes, when Mommy and Daddy were extra sweet, it felt as good as the extra special times when The Little One got to “make squirties”. It was time to get ready for bed. After The Little One got changed by Mommy and Daddy and put into their favorite PJs, Mommy and Daddy told them to sit on the floor so they could take their medicine. The Little One hated medicine days. It always tasted so oily and yucky. Mommy would always put it in a medicine paci and Daddy would ensure they had sucked down every drop. Finally it was crib time. The Little One whined, “But Mommy, Daddy, I want to sleep with you!” “Hush now,” Daddy whispered, softly stroking The Little One’s hair. Daddy popped a pacifier back in The Little Ones mouth, and snuggled Their Big Stuffy into their arms. Mommy and Daddy both gave sloppy kisses to The Little One on their lips. They raised the crib bars, closed the top, and turned out the light. The Little One sighed and tried to fall asleep. * * * The Little One awoke. They could smell their disgusting dirty diaper. The prunes and castor oil had definitely done their duty. The cloying, earthy muck mixed with the clean smell of the plastic sheet only inches from their nose. The ever present scent of baby powder hung in the air. Mommy made sure of that. She purchased a nursery scented air freshener. “To remind you that you’re still a baby!” Mommy had exclaimed cheerfully while installing it above the change table. Little snatches and sniffs of rubber and leather were constant from the various toys and restraints that were a permanent part of The Little One’s life. All this hanging on the olfactory backbeat of the ever present rhythm of the smell of the diaper pail. Sometimes it was full to bursting, the pungent scent filling the room, and the Little One was destined for a night of spanking and line writing for being so lax in their cleaning duties. This time only a few sodden reminders of their babyhood were sealed away in that powder scented plastic. The light of the nightlight shone gently across the room. It was an old Piglet one—in his red shirt with a look of trepidation on his face. This was the very first nightlight Mommy and Daddy had when The Little One spent the night at their house the first time. The Little One remembered how they felt like Piglet too. The Little One’s eyes glanced over to Their Big Stuffy. It was a big fox that was just like a large pillow, with a huge smile printed on her fabric face. Mommy and Daddy had gotten Their Big Stuffy for them as a special treat the day their weekend arrangement was agreed upon. They all agreed Their Big Stuffy was the second cutest addition to the family. The Little One had named her Peaches. The Little One’s eyes wandered over to the new addition, the toy shelf. Mommy and Daddy had purchased that at Ikea and practically dropped it at The Little One’s feet. Daddy’s words echoing through their ears. “It’s just like a puzzle baby! Now be good and set it up for Mommy and Daddy.” It had taken most of the day, and their diaper was a mess by the end of it. That night Mommy and Daddy took turns stocking the toy shelf with toddler classics like stacking rings and busy boards, and toys for dirty naughty ABDLs like tunnel plugs, pacifier gags and spankers. The Little One was kept safely locked in their crib while this happened, whining and excited to see their new toys, but tightly restrained only able to watch through the crib bars while Mommy and Daddy teased them. The crib bars. They weren’t locked and could be lowered! For the first time in a long time if The Little One wanted to leave their crib, they could. “Sssshhh! You’ll wake them!” It was Mommy’s voice through the baby monitor. This was a new thing they added. Normally Mommy set it up during “naptime” to make sure The Little One wasn’t getting into trouble. This time Mommy and Daddy must have set it up wrong, the transmitter was in their room and the receiver was here! “Even if we did wake them, what are they going to do?” It was Daddy’s voice, and it sounded like a dare! Mommy giggled a little at that, and before long let out a short moan. Lying there, The Little One tasted the drool from their pacifier, and the bitter remnants of the castor oil. But… best of all, was the warm and mushy feeling of the wet and messy diaper. Mommy’s voice rang out through the baby monitor, “Oh yeah, just like that.” The Little One was really turned on right now, hearing their Mommy and Daddy do nasty things to each other while The LIttle One was trapped in the crib. They brought their hands down to their mushy diaper and started to rub a little. “That’s it,” Mommy’s loud sigh sounded like a waterfall through the little speaker of the baby monitor. “Just like that.” Shocked, The Little One stopped rubbing. It was like Mommy was talking to them! But no, the moans coming through the monitor made it clear that Mommy was talking to Daddy. They looked at the top of the crib. The unlocked Crib. Did they dare? They could! Another moan escaped Mommy's lips, this time The Little One could hear it from the other room and the baby monitor. The Little One looked back fondly at the days they were allowed to spend time in Mommy’s and Daddy’s bed. How much they missed that. The baby monitor continued to broadcast sounds of adult fun. Its source was a mere 30 feet away, in the next room. The Little One remembered their Daddy saying how they should only leave the crib during emergencies, how it was important that they should stay in their crib, and how much they would be punished if they broke the rule. “—ttle One…” wait did Mommy say their name? That settled it. It was time for adventure. They sat up. The diaper went squish and the Little One felt mush spread everywhere. They waited until Mommy and Daddy were making a lot of noise, and slid the bars of their crib down with a gentle ‘whish’ and a ‘click’. Slowly they crept out of their crib, grabbed Peaches, and crawled out the door. Through the hallway they crawled. The crinkle of their diaper was loud even through their soft PJs in the hushed hallway. Finally they got to the master bedroom. They crept through the open door. Elegant scented candles, bottles of lube, restraints, spankers and toys were everywhere. Mommy and Daddy were both on the bed. Daddy was tightly bound, oh his knees, face down and ass up. Mommy was kneeling between his legs and had her hands on Daddys hips. Was Mommy…? “Yes, just like that,” she purred. She thrusted her hips and Daddy squealed a little. The Little One crept to their special chair in Mommy’s and Daddy’s room. This was the ‘watching chair’ that Daddy had set up for them. It was a small chair painted pink and blue, and sometimes Mommy and Daddy would restrain them to it. That way The Little One could watch Mommy and Daddy play but not be able to touch themselves, just like they were tonight. Not just like tonight. Tonight was new. The Little One silently sat down in their special chair, their mucky diaper making the slightest of squelches as they settled into place. They nestled Peaches between their legs. The Little One watched. They couldn’t help but rub their mucky diaper in time with Mommy’s thrusting and Daddy’s grunting. The little one had never seen anything like this before, and was extremely turned on by it. They wanted Mommy to do the same thing to them! Their tummy made a few more gurgles and rumbles. They watched as Mommy kept thrusting harder and harder. The Little One kept rubbing in time with Mommy and Daddy, squishing their ruined diaper and feeling the mess squirt around as they continued to grind against Peaches. The Little One felt the cramps well up, from the bottom of their spine and snaking all the way through to the tippy top of their tummy. They closed their eyes and imagined Mommy doing that to them. Their other hand almost unconsciously moved to their mouth, and The Little One started sucking hard on their thumb. They rubbed their diaper harder and started grinding into it, the soppy mess spreading out, just barely contained by a protective layer of plastic pants. The LIttle One felt a little squirt come out. Out of the backside of their diaper that is! The commotion in the room got louder and louder. Mommy and Daddy lost in their moment and The Little One lost in their imagination. There was a big squelch as The Little One lost control, and a blowout came pouring through the top of their diaper and plastic pants at the back. This only encouraged The Little One to keep going. They couldn't help it, they kept thinking about how they filled their diaper helplessly, they kept imagining between Mommy and Daddy. They were so close… So close… So close! And that’s when The Little One felt Mommy’s tender hand against their cheek. The Little One threw open their eyes and there was Mommy and Daddy. The Little One stared up at their ‘Parents’. The Little One self consciously sitting in this childish chair with their knees up to their chest, their stuffy between their spread legs, and the scent of fresh squirty messies carried up. “What are you doing out of bed?” Mommy Said “Any more and Your Big Stuffy would have helped you make number three.” Daddy added. The Little One sniffled, “I’m sowwy.” Their ‘Parents’ both replied, “You will be!’ The End * * * Mommy finishes reading the book, “And that’s how we found you! You were a stinky little mess sitting in your chair.” “And you were really close to making another one too!” Daddy replies. You’re sitting between Mommy and Daddy on the couch before bedtime. This is part of the punishment for sneaking out of the crib to watch Mommy and Daddy. The new nighttime routine was a long spanking and corner time, followed up by storytime, where you’re made to sit through this childish retelling of how you got caught. Mommy kisses you on the forehead, “Sweetie, what if we commissioned some of your favorite artists, and turned it into a picture book, would you like that?” “I think that’s a wonderful idea!” Daddy replies. “Then all your baby friends can see just how naughty a baby you are!” “But, I just want some Adult time like you and Mommy!” you plead. It’s been so long. The last month has been hard, Mommy and Daddy don’t even let you make stickies in your diaper any more, keeping you tightly restrained in your crib during sleep time, just in case you get up to naughty business. “I just want to have a special date. Just like you guys did.” “Well, Daddy and I talked it over. Tomorrow will be the one month anniversary of your misbehavior. We agreed that since you’ve done very well with your punishment, you can have a date just like Mommy and Daddy.” “Really?!?” Your eyes are as wide as pie plates. “Yes. Mommy and I have found someone special for you, and have planned the perfect date.” Daddy’s smile is genuine. Who could they have found? “But for now, it’s time for bed!” “But Mommy!” You whine. “Please tell me more!” “Ah, ah, ah!” She chides back. “Remember what happened last time you whined before bed?” “Yes Mommy.” “What happened?” “I had to have my mouth washed out with soap Mommy.” Daddy joins in, “And what else?” “I spent the whole night with a soapy pacifier in my mouth,” you say dejectedly, remembering the long night. It wouldn’t have been so bad, except right before Daddy went to bed, he came in and gave the pacifier, and your mouth, a fresh coat of soap. That was a long night. You learned your lesson. “Do you want a repeat?” Daddy says, his voice a little more stern. “No sir.” “Good.” he says, ruffling your hair. Mommy finishes pouring a strong dose of castor oil into your medicine pacifier. It looks like you’re in for another messy night. Daddy lifts up your chin and Mommy holds the medicine pacifier in place. You grimace as you suck down the bitter oil as fast as you can, gentle words of encouragement tumbling out of Mommy and Daddy mouths, while Mommy strokes your throat softly. Just like every night for the past month, you’re restrained to your crib, and your stuffy Peaches the Fox is nestled next to you. Daddy pops a pacifier in your mouth, slides up the crib bars and closes the top, locking everything in place and giving you a wink. Getting through tonight will feel like forever, it may be even worse than the night with the soapy pacifier. This is part one of a collaboration with Peculiar Changeling. It's been a lot of fun, and it is so awesome to work with him. Keep an eye out for part 2 from him! Special thanks to our editor Ellie, who is awesome **Sissy Becky** used to run an ABDL website way back on the day. Now they write "Adult Baby Research Institute" a long form serial about a ABDL BSDM sex asylum where everything is turned up to 11. Catch their work on AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sissybecky. (Or here) **Peculiar Changeling** is an author of AB/DL fiction, commonly cutesy, often smutty, sometimes stinky, and always crinkly. On Patreon, you can find all of his writing - over 10,000 words of fiction every month - Including exclusive content not found anywhere else on the internet, as well as early access to everything, discounts on commissions, and other cool perks. Plus, you'll help support his ability to keep creating stories like this one! http://patreon.com/peculiarchangeling http://subscribestar.adult/peculiarchangeling

I'm looking for someone to play the dominant Amazon CEO, preferably female. Message me if you're interested. I wake up frantically when I realize I've overslept. I quickly start making coffee and getting dressed for my job as an assistant to a wealthy and powerful CEO. I haven't been working there long, just shy of 5 months. I hear they go through a lot of assistants and after 5 months I see why. The CEO is hard to work for. I grab my coffee and run out the door. I don't live far so I walk to work since I don't have transportation. As I rush down the sidewalk I can see other Amazons either rushing to work or just going out for a walk with their forever babies otherwise known as Littles. I do spot one Betweener walking alongside an Amazon woman, I can see a sagging diaper poking out beneath her dress. Poor thing looks mortified. I never understood the reasoning of adopting Littles or Betweeners. I never had that drive to do it. I don't even remember if my boss has a Little or not. I finally get in the office and at my desk right before the boss quickly walks passed my desk to their office and signaling me to follow. After my morning meeting with them about what's going on for the day and about making schedules with a few clients, one being a very big client, I get to work on it among my other duties.

I'm new to this role play forum and hope that this idea from me is interesting for someone. Feel free to message me or directly write your response as the head nurse. I didn't give her a name yet, so you can choose the name of the character your playing Concept: Vanessa is the chief of a regression center. The regression center is used by the state to reform problematic individuals. The regression center uses a drug, which makes the patients more receptive to subliminal messages that are used to slowly strip away their adulthood. To make the changes permanent reinforcement training is needed, which is provided by the nurses working there. There are different levels of regression, depending on the sentence. After reaching the desired regression level, retraining starts. Depending on the person this retraining can vary quite drastic, some cases never make it and become free for adoption as adult babies. Vanessa takes advantage of her position to regress her clients often more than necessary, using devious methods. Even the employees are not completely safe from Vanessa. There is a rule that if an employee at the regression center has an accident (like wetting themselves), they must undergo regression and then retraining themselves. The level of regression depends on the severity of immaturity shown in the incident. Vanessa is a diaper loving enthusiast, but nobody knows at work. She is quite small and that caused others to make fun of her, but she kept those nurses in mind and the payback was very sweet. She loves envisioning herself in the roles of the patients at the regression center. She gets off from bringing others into diapers and then replaying the whole thing in her mind, but from their perspective. Over time she started using diapers more and more until she completely stopped using the toilet, even for pooping. As she got more confident over time of not being found out, she became complacent, allowing the head nurse of the regression center to find evidence of her deeds. In the following week Vanessa noticed that the big stature of the head nurse starts to evict new feelings in her. In her latest dream she envisioned herself cradled in the strong arms of the head nurse, wearing a wet diaper. It felt very comforting. The next day she involuntarily had a little accident Infront of her, but her diaper discreetly absorbs it. The head nurse always dreamed about putting Vanessa into diapers and adopting her after she fails the retraining, but her dream seemed out of reach. As the head of the regression center Vanessa could never end as a patient, right? After finding a fully loaded diaper that belongs to Vanessa, she sees a chance. In the following week she manages to collect proof of Vanessa misusing her position in addition to her soiled diaper. Now she is ready to make Vanessa a patient of her own regression center. The head nurse is confident that with a little help, Vanessa will fail the retraining and then she can be adopted by her. Start: I just had an accident, so embarrassing! I quickly mumble an excuse and head to my office. My face quite red not only from the loss of control, but also from being aroused. With quick steps I reach my office and close the door behind me, making sure to lock it so no one can enter. Only I have a key. I feel so hot right now and I can feel my bowls are churning for release. I know that I could use the private toilet of my office, but I already know that I will not do. The last time I used a potty is already more than two weeks ago. Slowly getting more into my infantile persona I think, “Now I always wear my potty with me.” I start to undress myself, freeing myself from the adult clothes until nothing but my slightly soggy diaper remains. The thought of my first real accident makes my kitty even hotter. I can worry about it later, right now I`m so turned on by the fact that I didn’t purposefully wet myself. I quickly get my hidden toys: I pink pacifier that I plop into my mouth, a frilly onesie that I quickly change into and the big vibrator for my pleasure. Now fully prepared, I turn on the pleasuring tool and bring it to my diapered kitty. I love the slight tease through the fabric of the onesie and my fluffy diaper. Getting deeper into my role, I release a couple moans, muffled by the pacifier so nobody can hear. Envisioning myself Infront of the head nurse in my current outfit, I start to squat down. I turn the vibrator to a higher setting and start pushing. I feel so little, so immature, just like a baby, as I helplessly fill my diaper with a grunt. As the stinky mush starts to pile up in my diaper, I come closer to my release. The diaper starts to tent out as I finish depositing everything inside. I even pee again a little bit. Just as I finish pooping the feeling of release takes me over the edge and I come in my diapee. It felt so amazing, that I didn’t even notice how my office door unlocked. As I come back to my senses, I see the head nurse standing right Infront of me, a smile on her face as she states …

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

After the great story loss of '17 I was unsure what to do with this. I had the original first draft of the story but it's littered with issues as it was the first draft and there were a lot of changes along the way. I was thinking of just making a sequel to DTA but without the first story it didn't feel right. I have decided to do a rewrite of the story and fix some issues that was in the story before as well as add in some parts and maybe chapters for characters that I had planned to do more with but got skipped over (Crystal being one of them). Can't say how fast these updates will come out, I want to get it done but it's more a side project then anything I'm focusing on. Chapter 1: Little Time Daycare LITTLE TIME DAYCARE was written in large letters over the entrance of the building. The building had seen better days itself, it was in need of some general landscaping and basic repairs. Bryce had always thought daycares for littles made a great deal of money so it seemed strange to her that this one seemed so underfunded. Her "Mommy" kept patting her thickly diapered bottom as she was carried inside, though Bryce wasn't sure if this was in a strange attempt to comfort her or a way to show her dominance she wasn't sure but she was sure she didn't like it. As they approached the front deck and young amazon women greeted them, "Welcome to Little Time Daycare, how can I help you?" "I'm Jessica Mills, I have an appointment today." Her smiling captor answered. The inside of the building did look better then the outside but it still seemed a older and a bit more warn down then she had thought it would be. On the other had she had never been inside a daycare for Littles like herself so maybe they were all like this. The lobby was almost a large triangular room with a door leading to the left and right. However where the point of the room would have been it flattened out and about half way up the wall it was glass to the ceiling and a figure was standing there looking down on them. The figure was clearly another female amazon, she seemed to touch her ear for a moment and a voice came over some kind of intercom that was in the lobby. "Sarah please see Ms. Mills to my office." The young Amazon came out from behind the desk, she had a knee length skirt that matched her blouse. She opened the door on her right and lead them through into the main daycare area. The room looked like any other daycare one might see, however there seemed to be no amazon children just Littles, clearly diapered Littles at that. None of them wore much else at that, short dresses or skirts for the girls but it did nothing to hide the amazingly think diapers. The boys and some of the girls wore nothing but a t-shirt and a diaper, if they were lucky many were naked save for their diapers. It had only been a minute and Bryce already felt like she had entered hell. The far left wall was almost all glass letting everyone see outside and let people walking by see all the Littles, Bryce wasn't sure if this was a daycare or a Little store or both. "Oh, I've never seen so many Littles in one place before." Jessica was beaming at all the Littles playing. "Why do you only take Littles and not Amazon children?" "Mrs. Jacobson believes it's better to keep Amazon children and Littles apart in daycare. Littles don't group up but amazons do and many times amazon children will look down on Littles even if they're part of their own family. Since amazon children will grow up it makes more sense for a daycare to cater to their growth which is something we don't need." "So it's a cost cutting measure?" Sarah stopped and looked at the Littles. "Somewhat. We have a different approach to little care then other daycares as you may know." Sarah took them to the right side of the room to the back left corner there was a door. The receptionist lead them into a room in the center of the building into what looked like a lunch room in this back half with a storage area in the front. There was only one robo nanny in this room who seemed busy with someone Bryce, couldn't tell what. They were taken to an elevator in the back and made their way to the second floor. This room was amazing, the second floor was one giant office and looked down onto both sides of the daycare at once. While the left side of the building she had seen was a "normal" Little daycare the other seemed a little off. There was a small room in the corner with a number of cribs with cords hanging from them, though Bryce couldn't get a better look as her "Mommy" was quickly moving into the middle of the room to sake this new Amazon's hand. "Ms. Mills it's so nice to finally meet you in person," The amazon said. "This must be little Bryce, she is such a cutie. Are you ready for all the fun your going to have here?" Bryce couldn't tell if the amazon expected her to answer as many didn't but she answered anyway in a sarcastic tone, "Loads." A quick swat on her padded butt made her yelp which was followed by, "Don't be rude Little Bee." Their host laughed and asked Ms. Mills to sit, which she did setting Bryce on the ground at her feet. Bryce quickly moved to the window showing the right side of the building, she needed to scope the area while she could and didn't know how long her "Mommy" wouldn't be watching her. "Thank you for meeting with me Mrs. Jacobson, I am really hoping you can help," Ms Mills began. "Bryce is a great girl, I love her but she is still a "free range" little lets say. I only adopted her 3 weeks ago and in the time she has attempted to escape almost every day, I'm at my wits end." Jessica took a deep breath, looking over at Bryce to make sure she wasn't getting into any trouble. "To be honest I had never heard of this daycare before I got the call, how did you know to call me?" Nodding her head Mrs. Jacobson answered, "Trade secret my dear. As you may have notice we only take in Littles and not amazons children for our daycare. I believe that all Littles can be happy babies, you just have to give them a chance. Most daycare's want to force that on Littles as they are handling too much at once." Mrs. Jacobson took a sip of her coffee. "I understand you don't want to use normal hypnosis." "Yes, while I could use hypnosis to regress her into a baby she wouldn't be my little baby anymore. I still want my Little Bee to be...herself but to accept being the baby she is and not always trying to run away, I want her to be happy with me. All the research I have read said I need to punish her into being a baby or regress her with hypnosis but I don't want to hurt her. She has an energy, a fire about her and I'm afraid hypnosis would destroy who she is" Mrs. Jacobson waiting for her newest customer to finish before speaking, "It is true we may be able to help, we are working on a new program that will make a Littles accept their life as babies without the need to use hypnosis to turn them into babies. However we haven't completely finished it yet and are working on our first full test group. If you would like we can set her up as the last member of the group." This was why Jessica had come here in the first place, this was in her mind the last chance she had short of wiping Bryce's mind and making her a drooling, stinky baby. "What are the risks? What happens if it fails?" Mrs. Jacobson sighed, "As this is the first full test run we aren't completely sure the outcomes that's why it needs to be tested. At best if she fails nothing will happen at all, at worse the program will wipe away who she was and it would be the same as if you used hypnosis on her." Jessica looked out the window and down to all the Little's in the play area. She wanted Bryce to be able to play with them and be happy, for them both to be happy. Right now Bryce wasn't happy so she wasn't happy. Bryce meanwhile was busy, she wasn't paying to much attention to what the amazons were talking about. She knew this was about sending her to be a "good baby." Looking down onto the right side of the building the had a small play area along with many cribs with what looked like head phone on the sides, this didn't bode well for her. In the corner there seemed to be a small rooms inside to room but the door was closed and she couldn't see in. As she was looking down at the robo nanny getting the room ready as she felt a sudden warmth in her crotch, it was clear her diaper was now wet. After a weeks of the milk she had been fed she figured she should be happy the only control problems she had now were wetting ones. From the deck Jessica looked at her Little Bee looking down into the training area. She knew her baby was looking for a way out, and now she had no other choice. She looked up at Mrs. Jacobson and simply asked, "Where do I sign?"

So I've had some free time and felt inspired to create another short story. I'm still working on creating an eBook (for anyone interested) that will have all of short stories I've created. For now let me know what you think of this short story and if I get enough support I'm thinking of creating a full story that will start with Alex's 18th birthday. Diapers and Denial: The Tale Of Two Friends Alex and Mike have been best friends since first meeting each other in elementary school. Both have been avid gamers and consistently have been found sitting in the living room glued to the TV screen. The boys would spend so much time in their spots that their mothers would joke about the living room rug having permeant indentations from where they were sitting. From Need for Speed Underground to Overwatch 2 both Alex and Mike have played the games together. In this alternative world, potty training doesn’t begin until the ripe age of 19. Adults young as 18 can start potty training but in reality most adults don’t get fully trained until 20 to 21. Alex and Mike are bit embarrassed about their situation. A large portion of their peers have already expressed interest in potty training while some have even started wearing pull-ups. To Alex and Mike, they feel like they were the only ones who still needed diapers and are at risk of becoming outcasts. On a rainy afternoon over at Mikes house we find the two friends in Mike’s room glued in front of the TV. Mike is playing the latest Call of Duty while Alex sits close by watching and doom scrolling on his phone. As Alex continues to doom scroll he feels his stomach rumble in an ominous way alerting him that a messy diaper is on the horizon. This wouldn’t be problem for Alex or even Mike as they’re both wearing diaper. But since Alex’s last birthday he has begin feeling new emotions, one of which is embarrassment when doing his business. As a result, Alex has begin the phase of hiding when doing business to lessen the embarrassment. "Hey, Mike, I’m to go to grab a drink from the kitchen. Do you want anything?,” he said, trying to sound casual. But Mike knew what was really going on. "Do you need to poop?" he asked, noticing the telltale potty dance Alex was doing along with him holding his stomach. Silent farts that Alex had been releasing that was now filling the room was also a good indication of what was coming. Alex blushed while crossing his arms over his stomach. “No" Mike could easily tell that Alex was going to mess his diaper soon just by his body language alone but didn't mind. He was used to it by now and did the same type of actions when he need to go as well. However, Mike wasn’t the one for modesty and had not yet begin feeling the same level emotions that Alex had been experiencing. Mike was contempt on squatting wherever he was at and pushing a load into his diaper before retuning to what he was previously doing. To Alex, the thought of messing his diaper while Mike was nearby was too embarrassing. He tried to play it cool, but the rumbling in his stomach was getting worse and he knew he had to go soon. "Well, I'm going to get a cold juice box and enjoy the cool air in the kitchen for a few minutes because your room hot as hell ," Alex said quickly before getting up from the floor and walking towards the door. Mike noticed Alex's sudden change in behavior and realized Alex maybe embarrassed by what was going on. "Alex, wait. You don’t have to feel embarrassed about using your diaper around me.” “I do it all the time around my parents and I know you see me squatting when I go” “If you want, you can hide beside my bed and I won't watch if that makes you feel better?” Mike side looking over to the small space occupied between his bed and dresser. Alex felt his cheeks turn red with embarrassment. "No, no. I don’t need to poop, ok, I'm fine. I'll be right back," he said before quickly leaving the room. He made his way to the living room, where he knew there was a hidden spot behind the couch. He silently crawled behind the couch, and squatted. Alex listed for any noises that could indicate that Mike or even Mike’s parents were coming close his location. He pushed down with his tummy muscles resulting in a small load filling the seat of his diaper with an audible wet fart. Taking a moment to listen for anyone, he pushed down more with grunt causing his diaper to balloon out. With one final push Mike finished pooping his diaper before releasing a small stream of pee adding to the mix. After he was finished, he felt immerse relief. He couldn't believe he had just hidden behind a couch to mess his diaper as the norm last year was the same as Mike. He stayed there for a while longer to ensure he was done while also, trying to gather the courage to go back to Mike's room. Eventually, he took a deep breath and made his way back to Mike's room, trying to act as if nothing had happened. But Mike noticed the smell right away and could see the bulge in Alex's pants from the load he had deposited. Not too mention Alex didn’t have a juice box and his obvious potty dance posture was now replaced with relaxed look. “Do you feel better now that you, cooled off?" Mike asked, trying to hide his smirk knowing that Alex did not get a juice box. Alex felt his face turn even redder. "No, I mean yes. I'm fine," he said, lying. But Mike knew better. He didn't say anything, though, knowing how embarrassed Alex was feeling. He just continued to play the game, pretending like everything was normal.

Hi, I hope you enjoy this story. In the past I have started lots of stories here and never finished them. I wrote this about a year ago, and posted it to fetlife. I meant it to just be a one off story but a few people asked for more and I kept going. I'm now on part 10. Since I have written so much I thought I should share it here too. It took him a few minutes realize his situation when he woke up, not in his own bed, cramped, wet and uncomfortable. He could see the white rails going up in front of him. "Dammit," he said out loud. He was laying in a 52 inch crib staring up at a stuffed animal mobile. The morning erection which would usually greet him every morning was stifled by the pink plastic cock cage, when it rolled his squished penis hurt. In an attempt to avoid this very thing he'd tried to pee really good before he went to bed, as his wet diaper now indicated. He relaxed and tried to let the pee flow, it wasn't easy but eventually he soaked the already wet nighttime diaper and even felt a little creep out into his sleeper. This was Saturday morning. Normally on a Saturday morning in Summer he'd meet his pal Ted and go fishing on his boat, he instinctively looked at his wrist, and remembered his wife took his watch away. There was no clock in the nursery, I wonder if I could still catch Jim he thought. He sat up in the crib, and thought about getting out, the rails were up be he could get over them if he wanted. Still the rule was that he wasn't allowed out of the crib until Mommy came to let him out. Getting out would be trivial but his wife had set the crib on 12 inch risers meaning that from the top of the rail down to the floor was 55 inches. He stood up and looked down over the rail. Of course the latch they had rigged up was locked with a small padlock. The same kind of small padlock that was keeping his cock locked in it's cage. It's probably really early, she's probably not even up yet. I could just go get some snips and cut the cage off, he thought about the wonderful orgasm he would whack out as soon as he got the cage off and he felt his little guy start to stiffen up and press against the cage again and he moaned in discomfort. This has got to end, he thought. "Bahh", he said as he threw a leg over the rails and got out of bed, he reached his foot down but couldn't quite touch the ground, his soaked diaper sliding against the top rail as he stretched. He tried to reach just a bit farther but lost his balance as his diaper snagged on the rail. He found himself falling and hit the floor with a thud. How the hell did I end up like this, he thought. A month earlier he was in a similar situation, laying on the floor of the guest room wearing a diaper and a cute onesie with bright pink trim and printed with hearts. His diaper was soaked and messy and he was listening to a hypnotic track on headphones, and he was happily suckling a big pink pacifier. He didn't even notice his wife walk into the room until she was looking down at him. She'd got off work early and came home to surprise him. The next few hours were rough, he explained his diaper fetish, and swore over and over again that it had nothing to do with children. His wife was shocked, then upset, then angry, really angry, then sad, really sad. She eventually packed a suitcase and left. She called the next day, and they talked on the phone for hours. Her anger had died down and she'd done research on adult babies, finding out that as he had said the fetish had nothing to do with pedophilia. That evening she came home and they had a long discussion, he explained he'd been doing this since he was a little kid, and that he didn't know why he liked to do it, but he loved it. At her request he showed her all of his stuff, his diapers, his onesies, his bottles and pacifiers. "I'm so sorry, I'm going to bag all this stuff up and throw it away," he said. "Well... I was thinking, I've always had this fantasy of being a tough in charge kind of woman," she said. He laughed, his wife was super sweet and nice and rarely wanted to be in charge of anything. "Seriously don't laugh, and since you know, we can't have a baby, it might be kind of fun if you were my baby." His eyes opened wide, words that he'd imagined his whole life just poured out of his wife's mouth. "Ummm, wha.." he stammered. "But there will be strict rules, you have to understand what hurts me more than anything about this is how you kept it away from me all this time, it's almost like you were cheating," she said. "I'm sorry," he said trying to fight back tears but losing. "It's just so, embarrassing," he said and began to sob. "Oh come to mommy," his wife said and wrapped herself around him and he cried into her shoulder while she gently rocked him back and forth, She supported his head and whispered into his ear, "Your mommies baby now and she loves you so much," in a few moments she felt his cock growing stiff and realized how incredibly horny he was. She pulled off her shirt and undid her bra, then guided her husband's mouth to one of her nipples. "Fussy baby, here you go," she gently said. While her husband latched on and suckled she alternated between rubbing the front of his pants and his nipple. Soon he was unable to control himself and was humping and grinding her legs. She undressed him and then herself then lead him to the bed where they had mind-blowing sex. His cock was harder and went deeper then she'd ever felt, he moaned in rhythm with her. "Yes, baby, yes baby," she began to say as she felt herself heading towards orgasm. "Yes mommy, yes mommy," he said back. They came together, both screaming in a mind shattering orgasm, then collapsed on the bed. "Would you like me to diaper you now?" she asked. "Nahh, I'm good," he replied. She wondered how closely his adult baby desires were connected to just having an orgasm. "That's something we'll have to work on," she said with a laugh. The next day they had the best day of their lives, something they'd always dreamed of doing together, they converted a guest bedroom into a nursery. They bought the biggest crib they could find, which wasn't really big enough, but would have to do. They bought a white table that they converted to an adult sized changing table, and some organizers for diapers and toys. They filled a cart at Baby's R Us, with all kinds of baby supplies and neither one could wipe the big smile off their face. Finally, they ordered several cases of different adult diapers. "That's a lot of diapers," he said. "Well you're going to need them," she replied