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  1. It’s really okay (The Dialogues #4) Becky had gone in search of a project, and he was somewhere in the house. Ben was thirty-six and had been married to an unkind woman his mother had finally pried him back from, and Becky was intent on helping him become happy again. Six months into their marriage, he mostly was, an active, talkative, kind man who liked YA fiction and playing in his wading pool in equal measures. He was wonderfully behaved, having needed just one correction since their wedding when Becky found him getting things out from under the sink, which turned out to be a misunderstanding. Still, he remembered his first wife, and when he was afraid he was in trouble the happy man disappeared and the frightened, cowed husband came back out. He would stopped playing, stopped talking, and go hide. By late morning, as Becky was wiping down the kitchen and getting ready to start on lunch, she realized it was too quiet. She went in search of Ben and found him in the corner of his bedroom, nose in the corner. “Ben, you okay, buddy,” she asked, wondering what the wounded man was afraid he’d done wrong now. He didn’t respond or turn around. She approached him and reached out to put her hand on his shoulder. He flinched and sniffled. She turned him around. “Why’ve you been crying, sweetie?” He didn’t answer. She didn’t expect him to, but she always asked anyway, her effort to help him know it was okay to tell her what he was feeling even when he was afraid. He was holding her hairbrush, a habit she surmised stemmed from being told to go and get it whenever he was in trouble with his first wife. She told him so many times she wasn’t ever going to spank him with the brush, but he would often go and get it anyway. She cursed the woman silently and took it from his hand, putting it in her pocket. She took him by the hand and led him toward his nightstand, where she always made sure was a box of tissues. She plucked one and wiped his tears away, bent her knees a little to look him in the eye, and said to him, “We’ve talked about this, remember? You’re not in trouble, sweetie. You don’t need to bring me the brush or put yourself in timeout. Remember?” He nodded slowly, but avoided looking her in the eye. She grimaced and reached for another tissue, holding it to his nose. “Blow for me,” she said in the nicest voice she had. He responded well to that tone most of the time. He blew his nose. “Can you tell me what happened?” He didn’t answer. She looked around the room. A broken toy, a small mess, a spilled cup - these were the sorts of things he was certain he would be in trouble for, and as much as she would tell him it wasn’t a big deal, that he wasn’t in trouble, and that he should go play while she fixed it or cleaned it up, he stand there silently. Only when whatever it was had been fixed and they’d had some cuddle time would he come back out and go back to being his happy, chatty self. She didn’t see any mess, so she took his hand again, and walked him to the bathroom. He liked to play with his boats in the tub. But there was no mess in there. She looked in the hamper, but there was no mess in there. He’d been playing upstairs since breakfast. “Benny, is there something you want to show me?” He didn’t answer. “Even if I double pinky promise again that you’re not in trouble?” She sighed and straightened up, giving him a kiss on his forehead and a hug. Maybe Beth, her wife, would be able to coax it out of him. She was coming home to have lunch with them and had an especially good rapport with him. Becky would sit with him on the couch until then, putting on a superhero movie and trying to interest him in it. She had an epiphany as she passed his room with him in tow and stopped, stepped around him, and pulled out the back of his diaper. “Nope,” she said, and felt around to his front. “Lets go change those wet pants.” Taking his hand again, she started toward his room. He didn’t pull away but he didn’t follow. “C’mon, silly. Don’t you want dry pants?” He started to silently weep again. She thought he was over his fear of using his diapers. His first wife had insisted on catheters and enemas and treated accidents harshly. Becky, Beth, and his mother had done so much work to get him over his fear of using his diapers. “Benny, honey, it’s okay. It’s okay. Let’s go get you into something dry.” He followed behind sheepishly. “Upsie Daisy,” she said and helped him onto his changing table. “Lie back.” He only cried harder. Becky looked around his bedroom for a binky, and not seeing one took his wrist and guided his thumb toward his mouth. She didn’t like thumb sucking, but was happy to let him if it would stop the tears and make him feel safe. “It’s okay, Benny, go ahead. It’s okay.” He accepted his thumb, and she went back to her task, getting out a wipe and a clean diaper. She dabbed at his tears again with the wipe, raising the pitch of her voice and and saying in the almost-melody that sent him to sleep each night, “There’s no need for those tears. You’re such a good boy. Such a good boy.” She untaped one side of the diaper, and he turned away, catching her by surprise. “Benny,” she said in the tone she reserved for her one-year-old niece, you silly man. You gotta hold still.” She reached for the other tape and he turned away. “Benny, why you being so silly? Huh? You gotta hold still for me. You gonna hold still and let me change your diapee?” He didn’t say anything but eased his hip back down, sucking hard on his thumb and looking away. “There we go. Dere we go! Hold still ...” She untaped and I opened the diaper. It wasn’t easy to see. If he hadn’t made a big deal out of it, she was sure she wouldn’t have noticed he’d cum in his diaper. She sighed. Different people had different opinions, but it never bothered her or Beth that men like Ben sometimes spontaneously ejaculated in their diapers. She was surprised Ben hadn’t yet; she assumed he had and she just hadn’t noticed, but seeing his reaction as she opened his diaper, his silent sobbing growing deeper, she realized this must’ve been the first time since their marriage and that his first wife had been one of those types. Becky and Beth had agreed when deciding to get him that baby talk would be kept to a minimum, reserved for scrapes knees, bedtime, and when he needed cheering up. They wanted to ween him off such babyish needs, but tears certainly fit within the exception, and Beth moved around to the side of the table so he could see her face smiling down at him. “Is dat all? Is that dat all you was afraid of?” She took his thumb away and gave him a kiss on his mouth, even parting her lips a little. “It’s okay,” she said, “it’s okay. That happens to men your age sometimes. You didn’t do anything wrong. It was just an accident, just like the other things you do in your pampers.” Like he had all the other times he thought he was in trouble, once she found what it was he’d done and told him it was okay and that he wasn’t in trouble, he tentatively smiled, as though until she discovered it, he wouldn’t believe her. “Aww. Dere’s a smile! Dere’s a smile! Ooo, such a good boy!” She looked down toward his feet. “I’m fact...” A devilish smile crossed her own face, and she reached for the rash cream under the table, applying it directly to his clitty. “Can you show Becky how you make a sticky cummy?” She wasn’t sure he actually knew how it happened and doubted he’d ever done it on purpose. She started to massage the head of his clitty between her thumb and forefinger, more than enough to manage his little stiffy. “Show Becky. Show Becky. Show me what a good boy you are ... What a cute clitty you have. Yes it is. Come on. Make a sticky cummy for Becky ... Come on ... Dere it is! Ooh, my! Yes, dere it is. Dat’s a good Benny. Such a good Benny.” His little load didn’t even shoot, just oozing out of his clitty and staying in the wet diaper open between his legs. She leaned down again and gave him another thorough kiss, not what she’d give Beth but appropriate for husband and wife. She smiled wide, beaming at him as she asked, “Do you believe me now? It’s okay for you to make cummies in your pampers. That’s what your adorable little clitty is for.” His smiled turned to confusion. “My what?” “Your clitty ... Your peepee ... Your peepee is also your clitty, honey.” She reached down and gave the soft thing between his legs a gently squeeze. “Same thing.” “Oh ... I’m really not in trouble?” “No, sweetie,” she chuckled, “you’re not in trouble. If you make cummies again, you don’t even have to tell us. Like we said, your pampers are our responsibility.” “Can ... can we do that again sometimes?” “Sometimes. I’ll even show you how to do it yourself, but you have to do it inside your pampers, okay?” “Okay.” She gave him another kiss, this time on his forehead, before wiping her hand and going about the diaper change. “You are such a sweet little guy ...Now,” she said as finished wiping him down, “let’s get your little clitty snug in some new pampers.” As she sealed the second tape, she heard the garage door. “Ooh, there’s Beth. She’s gonna be so happy to see you! ... All done!” She held out her hands and helped him sit up. “After lunch will you help me build a fort in the backyard,” she asked him. “Uhuh! Can I tell Beth about my clitty?” Becky laughed. “Tell her all about it!” She leaned forward and gave him a strong and meaningful hug. “She’ll be so proud of you, just like I’m so proud of you.” “Thank you, Becky. I love you.” “I love you, too, sweetie! Ah! There she is! Go tell her!” He hopped off the table and scurried out of the room faster than Becky could swat his little bottom. She chuckled as she cleaned up after the change. He was all man underneath his trauma, and she and Beth were so happy to help him come back out and see him find his happiness again.
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