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

I know I have other unfinished stories - my excuse is that I need to get back into the mood with a new one. I've pasted this from Word - sorry about the big spaces between lines. No time to fix. Joe and Sue Chapter One - The Start Joe look fearfully across the bed to Sue, who was still asleep. Joe carefully rolled himself off the soaked bottom sheet and stood next to the bed. He was wondering what todo next when Sue groaned and stretched out her arm. Joe was frozen to the spot. He watched as Sue’s hand rested for a moment on the sheet. Her fingers investigated the wet condition of the sheet, then her eyes opened. She looked up at Joe. ‘Not again, Joe,’ she said, not kindly but with exasperation. ‘I think it must have been the…’ he began. ‘No, Joe,’ said Sue, wide awake now and getting out her side of the bed. She stood up. Joe couldn’t help looking at his wife’s two magnificent boobs pushing out the soft fabric of her nightdress. ‘I think it must be you behaving like an irresponsible toddler,’ Sue said. ‘That’s three times in a week. We agreed last time that if it happened again, we’d see Kathy, didn‘t we?’ ‘Sue, it’s ok, it won’t…’ Joe said. ‘No Joe, I’m not taking any more of your excuses. I’m ringing Kathy this morning. I’m sick of this, on top of your filthy undies as well,’ said Sue. Joe felt his shame and anger rising simultaneously. He often leaked a little into his underpants. No big deal. Wetting the bed was worse, but he was under pressure at work, and it was an accident. There was no need for her to call him a toddler. He hated her doing that. It screwed him up inside. As if to make the point, Sue picked up a pair of Joe’s underpants from the clotehs on the chair where he usually left them. She sniffed them at a distance and threw them at Joe. ‘Urine, Joe,’ she said. ‘You probably should be in training panties.’ ‘Pants,’ Joe said crossly, daring a quick glance directly at his wife. ‘And Sue, I don’t want you to ring Kathy,’ he added with as much conviction as he could. ‘I don’t have to see her.’ The last person Joe wanted to know anything about his little problems was Dr Kathy Vincent. She was one of Sue’s gym mates, and she was even taller than Sue, who at 5 feet 11 inches was already a good two inches taller than Joe. Kathy gave a new meaning to the word buff as applied to females. She didn’t walk, she swaggered, and she scared Joe. It was hard enough maintaining his manly status in the presence of an Amazon like Kathy, and telling her he wet the bed didn’t bear thinking about. Sue laughed. It wasn’t the reaction Joe had hoped for. ‘So Mr ‘I’ve-just-wet-my-bed-again’ doesn’t think he has a problem,’ said Sue, walking around to where Joe stood. ‘Little Mr ‘I-can’t-keep-my-jarmies-dry mummy’ doesn’t need help, is that it?’ Sue said, reaching down and grabbing Joe’s private parts through Joe’s wet pyjama pants. Sue gave Joe’s balls a squeeze, and was rewarded with a flood of warm pee over her hand. She withdrew her hand in disgust. Joe was about to cry. ‘I’m sorry,’ he said. ‘I couldn’t help it. I was getting up to go…’ Sue stood still for a moment, leaned forward and gently but quickly kissed him, then said calmly, ‘It’s alright, baby. Of course you can’t help it. That’s the problem isn’t it? Now go and have a shower and get dressed for work.’ Joe bit his lip and turned to go to the bathroom. As he reached the door, he felt the warmth of a stream of pee on his inner thighs. He didn’t even try to stop the flow, but traipsed wetly across the bathroom floor and sat peeing through his pyjamas on the toilet, crying as he did so. Joe and Sue Chapter Two – Sliding Back Work hadn’t been going so well for Joe. He was in customer service for a national computer franchise. He wasn’t particularly attached to the place, nor it to him. He got on well with most of the staff, who were mostly women, aged from about 20 to around 50, so Joe sat square in the middle of their age group. He was young enough that the women in the office under 30 treated him more or less as an equal, and the older women found him youthful enough to fuss over. But the work seemed to be becoming more difficult, and several times the most junior girl in the office had taken him aside and explained easier ways to do the work especially the calculations. Joe began to feel that his status in the office slipping as he required more help. He was also finding urination more urgent, and had had a few close escapes, unknown to the women. It was bad enough the office junior helping him with some work he had got stuck with. Having them know he sometimes wet a little would be the end. Increasingly, Joe’s superiors would assign to others the work Joe felt he normally did. He found himself making more coffee, and doing more photocopying and filing than actual work. Joe’s role in servicing customers was formally changed a few weeks later. The office manager, a kindly older woman, told Joe that he seemed to be struggling a bit, and that she felt he might be getting and stale and so it would be better if his role changed a little. Joe was to become ‘office support’ although, the woman assured him, he would certainly be considered for a different role if his standard of work was consistently good. ‘I’m sorry, Joe,’ the former office junior had said to him that afternoon. ‘It’s the last way I would have wanted to get the promotion.’ The penny dropped for Joe. He hadn’t really considered his move a demotion, but now, as smiled weakly at the former junior and wished her well, he realised what had happened. His smile changed to a bitten lip, and he felt like crying as he turned away from the girl. He did cry, too, all the way home in his car. He straightened himself up by the time he reached the front door. Sue was home, and met him with the news that she had made an appointment with Kathy for the following day, and that she had rung Joe’s manager to secure a day off for him. The office had told Sue that they had a work experience girl who could fill in for Joe, and that he should take the rest of the week off. That news surprised her, and Sue listened to Joe tearfully relating how he had been demoted, that his pay had been reduced, and that he didn’t feel confident he could get back to where he was. ‘Now I’m just doing coffee and photocopying and stuff, and running errands,’ said Joe through his tears. ‘Even for the young ones. It makes me feel, you know, like I’m, you know…’ he added, his voice trailing off unhappily. ‘Not equal?’ Sue suggested helpfully. Joe nodded his head. ‘And the, and then, with…’ said Joe. Sue guessed what he was talking about and felt for him. They knew each other well enough that she could usually read his thoughts. She knew how embarrassed he felt about his bedwetting and his damp undies. She was looking forward to seeing Kathy and finding out what could be done for Joe. There was something that was unsaid between them. It occurred to Sue sometimes when she was putting on her sheer nylon panties, and watching Joe pull on the thick cotton underwear she bought for him. She always bought for Joe briefs with a double panel at the front. It wasn’t much, but she felt it would help Joe if he was a little damper than usual. No wonder he felt unequal. Having that childish problem, then effectively being made the most junior staff member at work couldn’t be an easy load to carry. Joe and Sue Chapter Three – A visit to the doctor The next day, Joe showered and dressed before the visit to Dr Kathy. He walked into the living area ready to go, to find Sue on the phone. ‘Yes, he wet last night, but he’s showered and ready now. No, just undies. No, I don’t think he would. Oh, here he is now. See you soon!’ said Sue, putting the phone down. ‘Who was that?’ Joe asked urgently. ‘Don’t worry, honey, it was just Kathy. She and I have been best friends for years, so don’t worry.’ Sue kissed Joe and stroked his hair. ‘But you said, you know, last night,’ objected Joe. ‘She needs to know everything,’ said Sue reassuringly. ‘And she is a doctor,’ she added with a smile. Joe felt worried. He squeezed his thighs together as he felt a slight trickle in his underpants. ‘Do you need the bathroom before we go?’ asked Sue. ‘No,’ said Joe stiffly. ‘I’ve been.’ It was a little annoying to be reminded to use the bathroom, especially by a well dressed, adult woman wearing tight, light grey pants which would have shown the slightest dribble from down there, while he was wearing his usual dark loose slacks and thick cotton underwear, which were now damp. ‘OK then, hop in the car, sweetie, and we’ll get going.’ Joe didn’t have to ask whose car they would use. The thought occurred to him that he was being subtly demoted at home, too. Wetting the bed didn’t help his self-confidence about his status relative to Sue either. It seemed to underline his lesser position in the house. And now he was definitely earning less money than Sue. Thank God they didn’t know about his night time issues at work, Joe thought. Joe walked towards their two cars. Sue marched straight to the passenger door of her SUV and held it open for Joe, who quickly climbed in. Sue got in the driver’s seat, then turned to Joe. ‘Buckle up, honey, please,’ she said, guiding Joe’s hand to the seat belt. ‘I was just going to,’ he said crossly, and buckled himself in. ‘Good boy,’ said Sue, and turned her head away from Joe as she backed from the driveway. Joe was quiet during the 15 minute drive to Kathy’s rooms. He had an uncomfortable feeling that he was being taken to the doctor’s against his will. He had had no say in it, that was for sure. Clearly, Sue and Kathy had discussed the whole thing, too. Sue pulled into the carpark of the surgery and was out of the car and holding Joe’s door open while he was still fumbling with his seat belt. ‘Don’t dawdle, honey,’ she said. ‘We’re a couple of minutes late as it is.’ Joe was not looking forward to this. He felt himself wet a little as he clambered out of the car. Sue grabbed his hand. ‘Come on, slowcoach,’ she said, and led him across the carpark and through the glass doors of the surgery. Joe looked back to see a mother dragging her young child across the carpark by the hand just as Sue had done. The sight gave Joe a jolt, and he managed to let go of Sue’s hand as they went along a corridor to Kathy’s rooms. The first room the entered was the waiting room, and Sue went straight to the receptionist. ‘And this is Joe,’ said the immaculately groomed receptionist with a smile. ‘Hullo Joe,’ she added. ‘Hi,’ muttered Joe, and plonked himself on one of the chairs in the room. The lady from the carpark arrived, still with her young son in tow. ‘Doctor will be a few minutes late,’ the receptionist told Sue, then she looked at Joe who looked less than comfortable on his chair. ‘There’s a bathroom just along the hall, if you need,’ the receptionist said with another pleasant smile. ‘I’m OK,’ said Joe quietly. ‘Thank you,’ Sue reminded him as she sat next to him. ‘Thank you,’ Joe dutifully said, and received another smile. Why did she mention the bathroom, Joe wondered. He really didn’t feel in charge of anything here. Surreptitiously, he rested his hand on his crotch. He could feel it was a little damp, but his pants were very dark and he had got away with similar situations before. A few minutes later, Kathy put her head around a door into the waiting room. ‘Would you like to come in now, Sue?’ she asked. ‘Hello Joe,’ she said, turning to him and smiling. ‘Hi Kathy,’ replied Joe, and followed Sue into the room. The two women discussed some paperwork while Joe looked around. To be continued…

OBLIGATORY DISCLAIMER: this is my first story as well as my first post on this forum. I'm one of those long-time lurkers. I was so taken with the idea of the Keeperverse that I felt compelled to make my own contribution. This is a slowish regression, and in that sense is a deviation from the universe as we know it. Feel free to consider this non-canonical. Like any first attempt at fiction, I'm sure the marks of an amateur are all over this one. But with any luck, someone here might enjoy it anyway. Chapter One The sudden ring emanating from my pocket ignited a flicker of hope in me. In the past week alone I’d filled out twelve different job applications. Not one of them had received a response. Maybe this message contained good news. I wanted to check right away, but there was an obstacle I had to contend with first. The use of cellphones behind the checkout counter was strictly forbidden, and the manager always seemed to be lurking around the corner. In spite of the threat of reprimand, I knew there was no way I could withstand the anxiety until my next break. This would require some finesse. I scanned the store as well as I could and strained my ears for signs activity. After a moment the manager came into view. All I had to do was wait for him to become distracted. A customer approached him to ask a question, but that was no good - he still had a direct line of sight to me and could turn around at any instant. Eventually he disappeared behind one of the shelves and struck up a conversation with a co-worker. This was my chance. After fumbling with my phone's lock screen, I saw that there was a new email. The subject read, “Thank you for your interest.” So much for good news. Working at the bookstore was fine most of the time. It had a certain dignity that other low-level jobs lacked. Some might call it arrogant, but things like that were important to me. But even though I felt better about myself working here than I would in a fast food restaurant, I lived in perpetual fear of the moment when an old acquaintance would walk in wearing something expensive, and I'd have no choice but to compare my life to theirs. At thirty years old, I’d gotten no further in life than most teenagers. It was a depressing thought. I was shelving books from a recent shipment when a voice surprised me from behind. “Excuse me, I – oh! I'm sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you. I was just wonder-“ She stopped speaking the moment our eyes met. I realized I was looking at the most beautiful woman I had ever seen. To say that I was attracted to her would be an understatement. I was fascinated by her. She seemed to radiate an aura of pure grace. In that moment, I would've had no trouble believing that she was the only person on the planet who truly mattered. It occurred to me that we had been staring at each other for several seconds. I decided it was up to me to break the silence somehow. I had every intention of saying “How can I help you?” but the experience of love at first sight was interfering with my diction. What came out of my mouth was a strange, nonverbal sound, somewhere between a cough and a hiccup. She giggled slightly at this, which I supposed was a reaction I could live with. Then she looked at me quizzically. “Have I met you somewhere before?” she asked. “I don't know… I don't think so.” “Strange, you look so familiar.” I scoured my memory for occasions when we might have seen each other, and came up with nothing. In spite of that fact, I had a peculiar notion that this person was, or world come to be, someone extremely important to me. “Never mind,” she said. “I'm sure I'm just imagining things. I was wondering where I could find travel guides?” “In the lifestyle section, right next to the cookbooks.” “Thanks,” she said and walked away. And then she was gone. I made a mental note to slap myself later. I could've asked where she was going, struck up a conversation about travel, and who knows where that might have gone? I could have even PRETENDED to be someone she knew. But I missed my chance. Another entry on the list of today's failures. I went back to work, completely unaware of the change that had just been set in motion. Chapter Two I slept poorly that night. My bedroom was uncomfortably hot, even after foregoing sheets and a comforter. And yet my thermostat continued to insist that the temperature was a cool 68 degrees. I wondered if I might be coming down with a fever, perhaps brought on by some seasonal virus. My suspicion was compounded by the way I felt after breakfast. I treated myself to a pair of brown sugar and cinnamon pop tarts, and within an hour my stomach was throwing a tantrum. I might have suspected food poisoning, but I was fairly sure that Pop-Tarts couldn’t go bad. I spent most of the workday feeling sorry for myself. My current physical condition combined with the events of yesterday left me in a decidedly dejected state. I found my thoughts turning to the woman who came to me looking for travel guides. The prospect of never seeing her again made me genuinely sad. Was it possible to miss someone after only one day? I tried to console myself with the thought that she couldn't possibly be as perfect as she seemed during that brief encounter. I'd been through enough ill-fated High School crushes to know that idolizing someone in such a way was bad for everyone involved. I thought of the song “She’s So High” from the nineties. Had I really become that pathetic? I decided that a little self-medication was in order. My companion that evening would be a certain Evan Williams. Fortunately, my tastes knew how to adjust to suit my budget. A few hours later, I was walking out the sliding glass doors of the grocery store, my recent purchase in hand. And then I saw her. Standing in the parking lot was the woman I had met the day before, the traveler. I felt excitement and anxiety welling up inside me. Both of these feelings intensified considerably when I realized she was walking towards me. “Hello again,” she said, smiling. “Hey.” “I wasn’t expecting to run into you so soon." “It must be fate.” “Must be.” There was a brief pause. “I'm Sandra,” she said, holding out her hand. “Dylan,” I replied, and took her hand in mine. The moment our hands touched, a warm feeling to spread throughout my body. Her expression suggested that she had felt something too. “Did you find what you were looking for yesterday?” I asked. It wasn't a great icebreaker, but it was all I had to work with. “Yup. I'm planning a trip to Italy. Have you ever been?” “Years ago with my family. Don't spend more than a day in Venice, it's not worth it.” “Good to know.” We were both silent for a moment . “Do you want to get coffee somewhere?” she asked. “There’s a Starbucks just down the street and – Oh, you probably have food you need to put in the fridge.” She glanced at my shopping bag. “No, it's just-“ I stopped, thinking that I might not want to reveal that I was buying cheap whiskey on a Wednesday evening. “It's nothing perishable. I can meet you there and-“ “I can drive us both there. No sense wasting gas, right? I'll take you back here when we’re ready to go.” I followed her to her car. Once we were both inside, she did something I never would have expected. Without a moment's hesitation, she reached across to my side and fastened my seatbelt. Her face turned red. “I'm not sure why I did that. Can we pretend that never happened?” “No problem. I guess you're concerned about my safety,” I said jokingly. “I guess so.” And then we were off. We approached the counter and ordered our drinks, hers about Earl grey and mine a decaf latte. Before I could ask the barista to split the bill, she handed over her credit card. I mumbled a couple words of gratitude, but in truth I felt a little uncomfortable. I was beginning to wonder how she saw me. Part of me wanted to protest that I could buy my own drinks as well as I could buckle my own seatbelt, but saying something like that meant that something like that needed to be said. In other words, the very need to make such a protest undermined my status as an independent, fully functioning adult. “I don't normally do this,” she said as we sat down at the table. “Asking someone out so abruptly, I mean. I was debating whether or not to tell you this, but when I saw you yesterday - I had this strange feeling that I was supposed to meet you. Does that sound totally crazy?” I took a sip of my latte. It was stronger than I would have liked. “No,” I said, “I think I felt it too.” “Is that so? Well, seeing as fate or karma or whatever has brought us together, we might as well get to know each other. What do you like doing outside of work?” “I play a lot of video games. I also like to draw, but I’m not very good.” “Aww, I bet you’re not as bad as you think. I’d love to see one of your drawings.” “I’m actually pretty shy about showing them too people.” I took another sip. The bitterness of the drink was really overwhelming. “That's no fun. What's the point of making art if you can't show it off to anyone?” “I guess it’s sort of an escape. If I had to worry about people judging what I made, it wouldn't be an escape anymore. It’d be another source of stress." There was a sudden, uncomfortable stirring in my stomach. Had this morning’s illness returned for an encore? “I never thought about that way. I still want to see one though.” “What about you? What do you do?” “I'm a marketing coordinator for a publishing company. We’re sort of in the same field, come to think of it.” “That's a very generous way of putting it.” The churning in my stomach intensified. Was there something wrong with the drink? Would it be rude to send back a drink she had paid for? “Are you feeling alright? You look kind of uncomfortable.” I tried to reassure her that I was fine. But the sensation was getting stronger. “If you're not feeling well, we can do this another time. It's really not a big deal.” I was hit by a wave of gastric turbulence. I could tell that this wasn’t going to end peacefully. “I need to excuse myself for a moment,” I said, and made a beeline for the bathroom. I won't bother trying to put this delicately - once I made it to the toilet, I proceeded to puke my guts out. And it hurt. I coughed and gasped for breath as the contents of my stomach were forced out of me. There was a knock at the door. “Everything ok in there?” It was Sandra's voice. She had heard me! My shame reached a critical level. “I'm fine,” I shouted back, “I'll be out in a minute.” No response. After the worst was over, I took a moment to reflect on how horribly things were turning out. I was sure she would lose all interest in me now. Maybe I should just apologize and disappear with what little dignity I had left. Whatever happened, I knew I couldn't avoid facing her, as much as I would have liked to. I summoned up my remaining courage and walked back to our table. “Sandra,” I said, “I am SO sorry. Let's just go back to my car and I won't bother you anymore.” “It's fine! Really, these things happen. I’m a little concerned, but you don't have to feel embarrassed.” “Thanks,” I murmured. “That said, if you're feeling sick, I probably should take you home.” “You mean to my car.” “Yes, right. To your car.” Neither one of us said much on the ride back. After we pulled up next to my car, she took out a small notepad. “I’m going to leave you my number,” she said, “And I want you to text me so I have yours. I also want you let me know how you’re feeling later. I'll worry if you don't. Can you do that for me?” “Sure,” I replied meekly. “And one other thing. I saw what was in your bag, and I don't think you should have anything to drink tonight. Promise me?” “I promise.” “Then I'll see you soon.” On the drive home, I had an intense internal debate about where all this was going. The thought of disappointing Sandra was devastating to me. And yet she hadn't seen that all shocked or disgusted – just concerned. And that made my feelings for her grow even stronger. My body betrayed me one more time before I made it home. When I was just five minutes away from my apartment, I suddenly noticed that my bladder felt extremely full. It was like I had been holding in for hours. But I was sure hadn't felt the slightest urge a moment ago. How could it just kick into emergency mode with no warning? Holding it in took effort. Driving while holding it in took even more. I tried to clamp down and realized I wasn’t sure which muscles to clamp. I grew tense all over, desperate to fight the growing pain just for just a couple more minutes. Once I had parked my car, I practically sprinted to my front door. I couldn't recall whether I remembered to turn off the headlights, but there was no time to worry about trivialities. I made it to the bathroom with mere seconds to go. As I basked in the feeling of relief, I wondered what the hell had just happened. Could this be related to the episode at the café? Was there some kind of disease that caused nausea AND an overactive bladder? Whatever it was, my life was going to get a lot more difficult if it didn't stop soon. I retrieved the bottle of whiskey from my car and took it inside. I stared at it longingly and contemplated whether I ought to go through with my original plans for the evening. I was really looking forward to drinking my blues away. But opening that bottle meant breaking my promise. Breaking my promise meant displeasing Sandra. And that was a price I could not pay.

Hi, I wanna put a little warning before I start getting into the story 'cause I feel like you all deserve it, since I don't want to waste anyone's precious time. 1 - This is my first time writing a full story, so it is highly possible that it will be convoluted and lead to nothing. 2 - English is not my first language, so it's probably not gonna be an excellent piece of art, especially if you are someone who enjoys literature. 3 - The most important point. If you expect this get to the "kinky stuff" immediately, don't get into it. I like to take things slow and have that sweet characters development. CHAPTER 01 - Two Years Ago "And why would I need an assitant again?" John Jefferson, 28, was 3 he was diagnosed with a very rare disease that affects both muscles and bones, making them fragile; while it wasn't lethal on its own, it made it impossible for him to put any muscular mass by weight lifting, and he also had to be cautious with his eating habits, since his legs might fail his structure him if he would have become overweight. On top of that, he was also on the shorter side, so being a 5'5 underweight, he surely wasn't the bossiest looking dude in the office. Although his problems, he's always tried to get what was best for him and tried to give himself some authority. He grew a nicely shaped beard, he became witty and contrary to most people in his position, he would always go to work wearing a suit and a tie. "First and formost, it is a cost efficient solution. Our new employe is a promising unpaid intern that will work here for free in the next six months. If she's good enough, we will hire her with a full-time job, so I need someone qualified to teach her. " Ever since Mrs. Thompson retired, Janna Prickles, a 51 years old unmarried men hater became his new boss and things only started running slower for him; it was bright as the day that Janna had a partiicular taste in torturing him. And the hate was mutual. Short and plumpy, she always weared overly coloured outfits that made are look like a knock off Queen Elizabeth. Fitting for her personality, John taught. John rolled his eyes and sighed "In other words, I have to babysit." but Janna blocked him with an evil smile. "I took care personally and decided for her amongst tons of other students who signed for this position. She's a quick learner, don't worry. Also, there's a second reason why I needed for you to have an assistant: even though you're better at your job than I like to admit, you're still an annoying little prick who needs to learn how to be organized, so she will take charges of your time schedules from now on." Truthfully, his office looked like a mess, and his schedules were all over the place, he couldn't argue with it. But there was more. "Oh I see now. It's about the Gravenue fiasco! Look I told you already it was not my fault if Jack went through my stuff and mixed up.." "I know and that is why he had been fired. But let's be honest for a second here. Just coincidentially it wasn't your fault. It was surely not the first time your pig habits got in your way. I know this is more about pride than anything else, but you DO need help. And you be helpful yourself." that didn't sound very convincing at all, so she sighed and looked down. "Fine, I knew it would have come to this. I've already hired her, as a matter of facts, she's already waiting in your office, as of now. Since I know that you need something to be motivated, here's your goal. In the next six months I want to have someone who is just as good as you at your position, and you are the only one who can teach her. Do a good job, and you'll get a 6% raise." Finally she was talking business, she taught. John was a very proud and goal oriented person, and this seemed like a good deal, which he closed by shaking hands with his boss. He walked to his office and opened the door. His new assistant was standing there, right in front of him. <HOLY SHIT> was all he could think of, but he limited himself to think it, and open his eyes wide. CONTINUE

Oh, BabyLock, you're a lifesaver! I was hoping someone had archived this! Sorry I cna't write more now, but I'll get on with it, and Max and Joy, when I can. XXX Wife In Charge Chapter 1 Bob and Sue's marriage had been stormy in its few short years. Sue had the big house, the big job and a big income. Bob had bought his few prospects and his pleasant company, and the second only when made the effort. Making an effort turned out not to be one of Bob's stronger points, thought Sue as she made arrangements for a new kitchen benchtop to be installed after Bob had left an electric frypan on high all afternoon while he went to the football, and burnt the laminate. He just wasn't safe in the kitchen, Sue had decided. He had cut himself quite badly a few weeks before, trying to cut cheess with the carving knife because he was too lazy to use the proper implement. 'Ban him,' Sue's jazzercise friend Josey said on the phone as Sue told her tale of woe. 'What?' replied Sue. 'Ban him from the kitchen, Sue' Josey repeated. 'I can't do that,' said Sue. Josey wasn't married, and Sue was pretty sure she knew why. Josey rarely ahd a good word for any man, and while Sue enjoyed the way Josey soaped her back in the shower after an exercise session, she would get a bit eager sometimes and Sue had occasionally to gently fend off her wandering hands. Not that she got much in the way of physical affection from Bob these days. 'Sure you can, Sus,' said Josey. 'It's your kitchen. Anyway, who's in charge around there?' 'He'd go nuts,' said Sue. 'So what?' said Josey. 'Tell him it's off limits to him. The lazy bastard will probably be grateful because you'll be doing all the work in there.' 'He doesn't do anything much there now,' said Sue. 'Exactly,' said Josey. 'Lay down some rules. You let him get away with too much as it is.' 'Rules?' said Sue. 'He's not a child, Jose.' 'No?' said Josey. 'He's never seemed that mature to me. You said he can't even keep his underwear dry, or clean.' 'Don't start,' said Sue. 'He can't help that.' She'd heard Josey's 'I don't know what you see in him' speech before. 'Come one, Sus, he's a pussy,' said Josey. 'Around you, maybe,' said Sue. 'You intimidate him.' 'Oh, Sue,' said Josey with a laugh. 'I turn up in a black leotard and...' 'You'd intimidate anyone,' said Sue. 'I don't intimidate you, though,' said Josey quietly. Sue thought of their slightly too lingering cuddle at the door last time Josey had been around in her jazz gear. She recalled the taste of Josey's lipstick and the press of her full breasts and pubic bone. 'No, you don't,' admitted Sue, then changed the subject. 'So what do I do, just tell him?' 'Yep,' said Josey. 'Take charge, Sue. It's your only hope. Got to go - I'm late for training.' Josey was a strong swimmer and trained with a water polo team several times a week. Sue left her to it, and went to the living room, where she found Bob with a beer in hand, watching a sports program. 'My only hope,' thought Sue. 'Bob,' she said, standing next to his easy chair, 'That burnt benchtop was too much.' 'Later, Sue,' said Bob, not looking up at her. Chapter 2 Sue glared down at Bob and grabbed the remote from the arm of his chair. She punched the off button, tossed the remote into his lap and stood back, her arms folded. Bob looked up without comprehension. 'What's up?' he asked, picking up the remote. He was about to turn the TV back on when Sue leant down and snatched the remote from his hands. 'No, Bob.' she said. I want you to listen to me.' Bob laughed. Sue rarely put up a show like this. He wondered what was coming, and soon found out. 'You are banned from the kitchen, Bob. Starting now,' Sue said angrily. 'What?' said Bob. 'You heard,' said Sue. 'You are not responsible enough to have kitchen privileges. You burnt the benchtop, you cut yourself the other day, you make a mess every time you go in there. I'm sick of it.' Bob sat with his mouth open. Sue was on a roll, and starting to enjoy herself. The feeling of commanding Bob was quite intoxicating. 'You're not behaving like a responsible adult, Bob,' Sue continued. 'And until you can show some adult responsibility, the kitchen, my kitchen in my house, is off limits to you. If you want something from there, you ask me, OK? You ask an adult. If Josey or someone is over, you ask them, OK? But you are banned. Got it?' Bob was stunned. 'Come on, Sue, what's this really about? What are you projecting about? And what's it got to do with that bitch Josey?' Bob asked, trying to sound like the voice of reason. 'Projecting?' Sue almost shouted. 'I'm not projecting anything, Bob. I'm facing facts, and I wish you would too. It's simple. You are not allowed in the kitchen because clearly you are not responsible enough. You are not a responsible person, much less a responsible husband, or even a responsible man!' Sue shifted her stance. That was a bit farther than she intended to go, but she could now feel the slight slipperiness between her legs. She yanked up the waist of her jeans, enjoying the momentary pressure on her clitoris.This was great. 'Sue, if you're upset about something...' Bob began. 'Of course I'm upset about something. You!' she said. 'I've put up with your irresponsible habits for too long. You're like a child, Bob. You can't even keep your underpants clean and dry!' That was too much, Bob thought. He finally realised that Sue was really angry. The subject of his underwear had always been off limits. He couldn't help it, just like Sue couldn't help swearing obscenely during sex. Sue had crossed a line with the underpants comment. Bob took a deep breath and was about to speak, but Sue had turned away and was heading back to the kitchen. Bob held his tongue and stood up, then followed her to the kitchen. Sue turned around. 'Where are you going?' she asked. 'After you,' Bob said. 'I want to talk this through.' 'There's nothing to talk about, Bob,' Sue told him. 'I've said what I wanted to say.' 'This is ridiculous,' said Bob. 'Is it?' said Sue. Bob rolled his eyes and moved to get past Sue, who was blocking the door to the kitchen. 'You're barred from my kitchen, remember?' said Sue, putting an arm in Bob's way. 'You're not, you're not grown up enough.' 'What?' said Bob. 'You're mad.' 'I don't think so, Bob,' said Sue. 'Here's the deal. You can go into the kitchen, but you have to keep going, out through the back door. Then you don't come back, got it? I don't actually need you, Bob. You can leave my house, and my car that you drive that I pay for, and all the other things that I pay for. Good luck, Bob. Or you can stay, and do as you're told. That's the deal.' Bob swallowed. This was a lot more serious than he thought. She was projecting. He could taste a reflux of the last mouthful of beer he'd drunk. Her beer, he had to admit. Figures in dollars swam in his head, and he tried to put them out of his mind. He knew that their monthly mortgage payments alone were more than his monthly income. He always tried not to think too much about their finances, which Sue more or less managed, but she was right, for the moment anyway. She had him. 'So?' said Sue. Bob's shoulders slumped. 'OK,' he said quietly. Bob hated this. He had the same feeling he got at Christmas when they went to Sue's parent's seafront holiday house. It was all about money. Sue's wealth didn't just give her options. It gave her power, especially over him. He had options too, but they were few, stark and mostly unpleasant. 'Good,' said Sue. She could see Bob's bottom lip quivering. Sue knew the look and felt like laughing triumphantly. The look said 'You win'. It was a great feeling, but she held her composure. She couldn't wait to tell Josey how things had worked out. She knew how Bob felt about Josey, and decided to turn the knife a bit. 'Oh, Josey's coming over after her swimming,' Sue said calmly. Bob felt totally lost. The last few minutes had laid bare the ugly, unspoken issue of financial power in their marriage. Some couples might by now have been headed for an erotic make-up session, but not Sue and Bob. They were headed for a vist from the alpha female man hater Josey. All muscles and cleavage. Even her big mound looked more substantial than Bob's modest package. She never got changed after her exercise sessions, and whenever she called in she seemed intentionally to piss off Bob, or Bobby as she called him. She was taller than he was, and probably stronger too, Bob thought miserably. She wasn't feminine at all, he thought. More like a, well, he didn't know what. He had to admit, she even scared him a bit. How did things ever come to this, he wondererd. 'Your pants, Bob.' said Sue suddenly. 'Go and change.' Bob looked at Sue, and followed her eyes to his crotch. Of all the times for this to happen, he thought. Very occasionally, and only when he was under max stress, he leaked a bit. The fist-sized wet patch in his groin said it all. Bob looked away from Sue, silently turned and walked with as much dignity as he could to the bathroom. On the way he told himself it could happen to anyone. He'd had, what, three beers watching the game. that was it. On the other hand, it didn't happen to anyone, did it? What other husbands wet their pants? Maybe Sue was right. Maybe he wasn't really grown up. But he was, obviously. It was just an accident. Too much stress. Nothing to worry about. As Bob reached the bathroom he felt the warm pee cascading down the legs of his pants. He walked awkwardly to the toilet and began to undo his belt, but it was too late. He'd finished peeing. Now he was crying, and he couldn't stop that, either. Bob took off his pants and sat unhappily on the toilet, looking at the mass of wet denim on the floor in front of him. After a few minutes, he managed to stop crying and was about to get up when he felt the sudden urge for a bowel movement. He dealt with that, then stripped off his shirt and got into the shower. 'Are you OK in there?' he heard Sue ask though the door. 'Yeah, just having a shower,' he replied. At least she still cares, a bit anyway,' Bob told himself. 'I'll put your wet things in the wash,' Sue added, and Bob heard the door open. 'No, I'll do it,' he said quickly. 'Too late,' said Sue. 'I've got them.' Bob watched Sue's shape though the obscured glass. She picked up the clothes. Bob waited, but Sue just said that Josey would be around in an hour or so, and left the room. Bob was not happy about the way things were going. Sue was surprised to see the extent of Bob's wetting, and oddly pleased. Varous new and bizarre ideas swam in her head, and she enjoyed the odd thoughts. Sue tugged up her jeans again and leaned against the corner of the laundry trough. Smiling, she pushed her weight against the cold stainless steel. Chapter 3 Josey arrived an hour later as predicted. Bob had changed into his track suit, and was trying to get back into Sue's good books by helping with the housework. He was vacuuming the living room when Josey burst into the house. She was in her black leotard again. The black spandex was stretched over her big breasts and clung to her curves. Her long, muscular legs were encased in red spandex, flanking the big, curving black vee of her crotch. Bob tried not to watch as she strode into the room. 'Well, well,' she said, walking past Bob and giving him a playful slap on his backside. 'Wonders will never cease. Bobby doing housework! I wish I had a tame maid at home to do mine!' Bob grimaced. 'Hi Josey,' he said as politely as he could under the cirumstances. He didn't add 'And you look like the giant Amazon bitch you are,' although he thought it. He turned around with the vacuum cleaner so he wouldn't have to look at her. 'Oh, Bob's in the naughty corner at the moment,' said Sue with a laugh. 'Oh?' said Josey. 'What's he done?'' 'Well,' said Sue, 'He didn't get to the bathroom in time. We had a little accident in our pants. Quite a big one, actually.' Bob froze with the vacuum cleaner. He couldn't believe what Sue had just said. Josey's eyes widened. 'Not....?' 'Oh, no,' said Sue. 'Just pee. But it was bad enough. So now he's being extra helpful to make up for the mess. Aren't you Bob?' 'For fuck's sake,' said Bob, and threw down the wand of the still running cleaner. 'Sue...' 'Bob,' said Sue calmly. 'Jose is one of my best friends. We share things. We've talked about this, Bob.' Bob glared at both women, shook his head and stomped out of the room. 'Are you going to turn off the vacuum cleaner?' Sue called after him. 'No,' came Bob's voice from the passage, followed by the study door slamming. Sue shrugged, and smiled at Josey. 'There's somehting I want to talk to you about, Jose,' she said, walking over to the cleaner and turning it off. 'I'm all ears,' said Josey. Bob had trouble getting to sleep that night. Sue hadn't mentioned his wet clothes, or the altercation with her and Josey. Bob lay next to her, worrying about what she was thinking. He didn't dare bring up the matter, preferring to let sleeping dogs lie. But he lay awake well after Sue had gone to sleep. He'd tried to cuddle up to her, but she wasn't having it. Bob worried about that, too, and eventually fell into a troubled sleep. Bob had a dream about his embarrassing problem in the bathroom, only in his dream, Sue and Josey were watching him pee his pants. 'Bob!' Sue was saying. 'Bob! For heaven's sake!' How real that sounded, Bob thought in his dreamy state. Then he felt his shoulder being pushed. 'Bob! Look at this!' Bob opened his eyes to see Sue on the far side of the bed, angrily holding the bedclothes up to reveal a huge dark patch on the bottom sheet. This was real, he thought with horror. Sue got out of the bed, dragging the bedclothes with her, exposing Bob in his soaked pyjama pants. She pulled the side of her panties away from her hip. The sheer fabric was wet with Bob's pee. 'Christ, Bob,' Sue said. 'First your pants, now this. What's going on, Bob? Are you unwell?' 'No,' said Bob. He didn't think he was. He didn't really know what to say. He hadn't wet the bed since he was 15. 'I'm sorry,' he said. 'I don't know why it happened.' 'Great, said Sue.