diaper discipline Because You Asked For It (Chapter 25 posted 10/18/19)

[Marcorpsdoc]

That sounds amazing.  Well done.  

[CDfm]

I am sure I was feeling every swat. By the time it was over I had to stand up. I think Jordy took his punishment very well. I just tried to give this a like and was rudely informed I had used all my likes for the day. I am looking forward to reading more. 

[Alex Bridges]

Chapter 9. Jordan

 

 

         As I got dressed for the day I wasn’t sure what to make of what had just transpired. I didn’t actually know what had just transpired. I wasn’t sure if we’d just done something kinky or if I’d just been punished. If it was kinky, I didn’t hate it, and if it wasn’t, I also didn’t hate it, and that made me pretty uncomfortable with myself. I never did like spanking, but I did like the way Kate had taken charge, the way it made me feel to go over her lap not because I was indulging in her spanking kink but because she told me and she was in charge.

         As for the spanking itself, I know this is ridiculous, but while I was feeling equal parts contrite, ashamed, and proud. I did feel ridiculous for having not gotten a handle on the leak, and the more I thought of it, the guiltier I felt to subjecting Kate to a wet bed when she had zero interest in anything urine related as a fetish. I was ashamed for having submitted and for having not been able to keep entirely stoic during my spanking, but I also felt proud for not having carried on too much. I didn’t cry. That was something. I couldn’t even remember the last time I’d cried because of physical pain, so I still had that streak going. And having these thoughts, I felt ashamed for being the kind of man who was proud not to have cried while his wife spanked his bottom. I shook my head to clear these thoughts and focused on what was important in that moment, which was I was enjoying being diapered 24/7.

         After breakfast, where I found it not too uncomfortable to sit, I went to my office to do some research on how to prevent leaks while lying down. Apparently I’m not the only one, because the DailyDiapers forum, where I’ve lurked for a long time, had dozens of posts on the topic. Kate came in while I was reading.

         “Have you figured it out yet,” she asked me as she bent over to put an arm around my shoulder and look at the screen.

         “I think so,” I replied.

         “What’s this website?”

         “Um, it’s a forum for ABDLs.”

         “Are you a member?”

         “No … there’s a sub-forum for spouses and family, too.” I don’t know why I told her that. I regretted it because I knew exactly what he was going to say next.

         “Mind if I join?” And of course I couldn’t say no.

         “I guess not,” I said, trying to mask the displeasure in my voice. Who knew what crazy ideas she’d get from the kink monkeys on DD? It wasn’t their butts that would have to pay for those ideas, either.

         “So what did you figure out,” she changed the topic.

         “I should’ve found plastic pants with a cloth liner.”

         “That wasn’t so hard, was it?” I didn’t answer. “Do you know where to buy them?”

         “I was just about to google that.” I did and opened up the first couple of results.

         “Wow,” Kate said, “This stuff is more expensive than I thought it would be.”

         “Yeah, I know,” I replied, “But at least this stuff lasts a long time.”

         “What else do they have?” I clicked through the sites while, and Kate giggled when she saw the cloth diapers and plastic panties in pastel colors and babyish patterns.

         “Those are cute,” she said, pointing at disposable diapers with blocks and trucks on the waistband.

         “Yeah, but, I’m not an adult baby,” I protested.

         “I know. I just said they were cute. But they would look cute on you.” She was getting ideas.

         “Anyway,” I interrupted her, “I think I just need those plastic panties.”

         “How many pair?”

         “Two.”

         She smiled condescendingly at me, like I was a young, naïve boy. “Four,” she told me. “Do they sell bed pads, too?”

         “Yeah.”

         “Buy two. And have them overnighted. And you’re not allowed to use your diaper in bed until they arrive, understood?”

         “Yes.” She gave me a kiss on the cheek.

         “Good boy.” Out of nowhere, I felt a little tingle in my stomach telling me how much I’d liked it when she called me that. I blushed and smiled, and Katie ruffled my hair before straightening up.

         “Get your shoes on when you’re done and come find me. We’re going to lunch.”

         I’d left the house in diapers plenty of times before, so it didn’t bother me to go out in the diaper I was wearing. That’s what I love so much about Abenas. We went to one of our favorite place, and we got a booth. It was crowded and noisy, which was perfect because Kate had no intention, apparently, of not talking about my diapers and misbehavior in public.

         “You’re looking none the worse for wear,” she said as I sat down, observing that I did so without wincing, I guess.

         “Fine,” I said back, flattening my lips and not matching her gaze.

         “Well, it can’t always be that easy, I hope you know.” Easy? Is wasn’t hard, but I wouldn’t call it easy, either. I’m not sure if Kate had ever been spanked, and if so when the past time was, but perhaps she didn’t have real perspective on the experience. We each looked what menu for about two minutes. We went there enough to know what was on it and just needed to refresh ourselves on what sounded good that day.

         “What sounds good today,” she asked me.

         “I was thinking a burger and fries.” Her eyes popped up from her menu.

         “Honey, we talked about this, remember? Healthy eating?”

         “Oh, uh, yeah. But it’s just one meal. Can’t it just be a treat?”

         “A meal isn’t a treat – it’s a meal. How about you get it as a turkey burger and only eat half the bun?”

         “Okay,” I whined.

         “And no fries,” she added.

         “Seriously?”

         “Yes. You can have a salad with lite dressing instead.” I pouted, which I knew was childish, but eating was one of my few vices. I didn’t smoke. I hardly drank. I didn’t use any recreational drugs. Why did my one vice have to be the one that’s so damn bad for you in the long run and not bad at all for you in the short run. I was irritated by biology, and a little miffed at Kate. I didn’t even need a menu of my own, apparently. We ordered.

         “Jordy,” she asked me, “What are you gonna do when you’re out if you need to change?”

         “Uh, it’s never been a problem before.”

         “But you’ve never worn 24/7 before. It might become an issue, right?”

         “It could,” I granted.

         “So what are you gonna do about it?”

         “I guess I’ll start keeping a … bag in the car.”

         “Maybe two.”

         “Why two?”

         “One with changing supplies in it, and an emergency one with a change of pants and socks in it,” she said. “I do laundry. I know you leak during the day sometimes.”

         “I don’t think that’s likely while I’m out of the house.”

         “I just don’t want you to get caught short and be embarrassed.”

         “I appreciate that. I just don’t think it will be an issue.”

         “I think you should,” she said.

         “I … okay,” I conceded.

         “You really do need to think of these things,” she lectured, “Kinda like the last couple nights and this morning. I don’t think you’ve put a lot of effort into thinking through how this changes your lifestyle.”

         “I’ve put thought into it,” I protested.

         “Jordy,” she said as she reached across the table to take my hand, “I’m not trying to be bossy. But from what I can see all you’ve done is bought a case of diapers, some plastic panties, and some rash cream.”

         “Yeah …” I was wearing diapers 24/7 now. I needed diapers, right? Everything else was just a bonus, really, things I didn’t strictly need, plus I didn’t want to rack up a big bill on this, especially when it was new to Katie. “I figured I’d get what I need as I go.”

         She frowned at me. “I think you’re gonna need some stuff right away. For instance, have you thought about the gym yet?” I’d been putting off that thought.

         “No.”

         “Our first appointment with the trainer is Wednesday. You don’t have to change at the gym, but I thought maybe you’d want something a little more discrete and with a little more give to it.”

         “I think I need pull-ups for the gym.” Kate froze for a second, and from behind me the waitress emerged with our meals. “Ah, ya know,” I tried to cover, “Pull ups, sit ups, bodyweight exercises in general.”

         “Anything else I can get you,” the waitress asked.

         “We’re good,” Katie said, having the courtesy to wait until the girl left before she laughed. “Nice one,” she managed to say, “smooth.” I chuckled, too.

         “We’ll go get some when we leave,” she said as she sighed and started in on her veggie wrap.

         “What?”

         “You need some things – let’s just go get them today. No sense waiting. There’s a medical supply store over on Houston. Unless you just want to go to the drugstore.”

         “I can go tomorrow. You don’t have to come.”

         “Shush,” she said, “we’re spending the day together, and I want to make sure you’re all prepared. Let’s just knock it out today, and tomorrow we can find something more fun to do. So, tell me what else you need. Pull-ups, a diaper bag, stuff to go in the diaper bag, a bag for the car.”

         “Pants? I could use a couple more pairs of pants and shorts.”

         “A chair pad,” she said.

         “Really?”

         “For the couch. Unless you want one for your office chair, too.”

         “People will see it out there.”       

         “We can always move it, but we did agree some people were just going to find out anyway. Have you figured out what you’re going to tell them?”

         “That it isn’t a new problem, and that it’s just gotten worse, and the doctors are trying to treat it medically.”

         “What’s ‘it’? I think you may get more questions.”

         “Urge incontinence, and they don’t know why. I figured trying to be any more specific than that would just cause problems. Don’t need anyone play internet doctor and hectoring me with solutions.”

         “They might do that anyway.”

         “But it will be harder if they don’t have a specific condition to look up. Besides, the reality is there’s no common reason for a man my age to be incontinent, and the uncommon reasons are pretty drastic. I’ll just tell people this started a year and a half ago and it’s gotten worse.”

         “I think that will mostly work. Ya know my mom is going to play internet doctor anyway, right?”

         “I know. I’ll just do what you do – nod along and then ignore her.”

         “And have you thought about travel yet? We’re going to the beach in six weeks. Do you need swim diapers?”

         “Those are for the other thing.”

         “Oh … what about when you’re just sitting on the beach?”

         “I’ll just have to take my chance with my fake incontinence, I guess. It’s not like I change in and out of a diaper on a pubic beach.”

         “True. So, I guess that’s one time you don’t have to wear. But otherwise, when we’re traveling the rule still applies. 24/7 means 24/7.”

         “You sure you don’t mind this,” I asked.

         “I’m sure.”

[Sarah Penguin]

[Babypants]

On 6/10/2019 at 8:17 AM, CDfm said:

I just managed to get to this and it’s turning out to be a awesome new story. I fully expect Jordan to be in tears by the time Kate finishes with his spanking. If he really wants to fix the problem of nighttime leaks, then he is going to need to invest in some good thick cloth diapers. Even then I still have an occasional leak but normally only if I drink a few beers before going to bed. At least for the most part the leaks are minimal and not often. Very happy to give this a like and I am looking forward to reading more. 

I would begin with a mattress protector.  Unlike the mattress itself, these can also be laundered.  I agree with you that cloth diapers and vinyl pants are the way to go at night, especially if you tend to sleep on your side.  It also helps (a lot) to use the 4 pin method instead of 2 pins.  The real question is whether to use pull on vinyl pants or snap on.  From the point of view of hygiene, a snap on has the advantage of permitting air flow, which helps the skin to stay dry and thus reduces diaper rash.  Of course, urine can also leak out if you sleep on your side.  I use snap ons (I have not quite exhausted my once large supply of Comco products, which IMHO are superior to any comparable product currently on the market), but i place a smaller mattress protector (readily available at CVS) underneath me.  I keep very careful track of this sort of thing, and can say with assurance that I have only leaked onto the sheets once this calendar year.  In contrast, the portable mattress protector immediately underneath me typically has to go into the washer with the diapers every second or third load.    

[WBDaddy]

On 6/12/2019 at 9:39 PM, Author_Alex said:

The paucity of likes is depressing. Do people like this? Doesn’t seem to have gotten many reads.

Just wanted to address this directly - Alex, you're doing great, you're writing about a topic that gets a lot of play here, and your writing skills are strong (not that you couldn't use an editor, but...).  Don't make any assumptions about like counts, view counts, or any of that shit.  People are responding.  You may have a few less likes since you announced that you're updating more frequently from behind a paywall, because some people get salty about that (I know from experience), but don't sweat a lack of likes.  Keep writing.  In the end, you should be writing for you, not for everyone else, because you are your own worst critic, and if you are satisfied, then it doesn't make a fuck what everyone else thinks.  

[CDfm]

Great new chapter. I am getting a feeling with this chapter that although she proclaimes she wants nothing to do with his diapers. She actually is deeply interested in it but is to shy to say anything. I was very pleased I could give this a like and you have to know I am very eager to read more.

 

[Alex Bridges]

Chapter 10. Kate

 

 

         “This isn’t a big deal,” I reminded Jordy, or tried to remind him. “It’s a medical supply store. We’re probably their fiftieth customer today.” I was trying very hard to be patient, but he was shuffling toward the entrance like he was dragging a steel ball from his ankle. I was surprised, really, because he’d been wearing in public before. What did it matter if a sales clerk at a medical supply store knew he needed pull-ups. Still, this was his thing, so while I was insisting we go, I wasn’t going to be short tempered with him for being nervous even if part of me did want to propel him across the parking lot with swat or five to his butt, mostly for fun.

         The store was remarkably generic inside. There wasn’t much on the shelves, and I assumed there was more in the back, with everything our front mostly as show models. It could have been any store, really. Just swap out the shelves and bring in mattresses, and you’d have had a mattress store. Or a carpet and tile store. Or really any place that just needed a lot of floor space and short, commercial carpeting. A clerk approached us almost as soon as we were in the door.

         “Hi, I’m Melinda. Can I help you two find something,” she said. She was wearing scrubs, which I guessed was just a uniform. She was around 50 years old, with greying, very straight hair running past her shoulders and understanding eyes. I wonder if she practiced. I looked at Jordan for him to respond. We were there for him, after all. He looked back at me. I really didn’t want to be responsible for this. In future, we’d be ordering stuff online, but he needed pull-ups for the trainer on Wednesday (ha! Training pants for seeing the trainer), and a few other things. In retrospect, we could have primed what we need it didn’t occur to me that day.

         When neither of us said anything, Melinda said more quietly, “Is it something maybe a little embarrassing? Please don’t be embarrassed. I’m a professional.” She sounded very sweet and caring, but the smartass in me wanted to respond, “You’re wearing scrubs – of course you’re a professional!” I exhaled audibly in mild irritation at Jordan.

         “C’mon, Jordy, don’t be like that,” I said, trying to match Melinda’s sugary tone. I put my hand on his back and rubbed it slightly.

         “We’re here for …” he started to say, “I … we need some adult pull-ups.” Melinda smiled, especially with her eyes. I deliberately did not roll my own eyes at Jordan. If this was how he was telling a medical store clerk, I could only imagine how he’d tell people we actually knew

         “Right this way,” she said. We followed her to the back corner where there were two shelves of incontinence products, one of disposable and one of reusables. The reusables intrigued me if only because I didn’t love the idea of all the garbage Jordy would be producing.

         “Can you tell me more about your problem,” Melinda asked.

         “Actually,” Jordy said, “I see what I need right there.” He picked a package of Abena pull-ups off the shelf.

         “Oh, good choice,” Melinda said, “I assumed you were new at this.”

         “Why would you think that,” I asked without thinking.

         “Because most people go straight for the Depends, or if they’ve tried those than to the cheapest brand they haven’t tried. I’m not judging, but I swear, it’s like they think the problem will go away if they just barely acknowledge it exists. Do you need anything else?”

         “Well,” Jordan said, feeling a little more confident now that he’d been complimented on his taste in training pants and good sense to deal with the problem intelligently, “I guess I do need some other supplies.” We got a basket, and into it went wipes, a medicated rash cream, a pad for the couch, two waterproof bags for transporting wet things, some disposal sacks, some nytril gloves, and a spray-on cleaner.

         I checked out while Jordan kept browsing. Once he’d settled down, he seemed to really enjoy looking through all the packages they had. As Melinda scanned the items, she said quietly to me, “The pull-ups are just a sometimes thing, aren’t they?”

         “What do you mean,” I asked.

         “Well,” she half-smiled, almost apologetically, at the things she was now bagging for me. “The gloves, the spray, the rash cream. That’s not stuff people who can get by with pull-ups often buy. Is the problem maybe a little more serious than that?”

         I furrowed by brow. “Is that important right now?” What business was that of hers?

         “I just meant we do sell diapers, and we can order almost anything.”

         “Oh. Sorry. He gets what he needs online. Today was just one of those days. Unless you’re less expensive than online.”

         “We would be if he were ordering some of the more institutional brands, but if he’s ordering Abena than he’s probably getting it for less than we could sell it.”

         “Well, we’ll keep you guys in mind in the future. Thanks for your help today.”

         Forty-five minutes later I we each had three pairs of pants and two pairs of shorts for Jordan to try on. As we headed toward the dressing room, I suggested, “How ‘bout I go in with you to make sure everything is as discrete as you think it is?”

         “Okay.” I was going to insist, for his sake, but I suppose he’d figured out he wasn’t quite as sneaky as he thought he was when told him I could sometimes tell when he was wearing in the past. I ushered Jordy into a dressing stall at the very end that was big enough for the two of us, realizing that while it was common for my friends and I to try things on together, this was probably his first time trying on clothes with someone watching since before he was ten years old.

“What do you want to try first,” I asked him.

“The dress pants.” I’d insisted he get one pair. He hardly ever had need of dress clothes, but you never know when you might need some. I reminded myself to keep an eye on the sales and get him a suit as a present the next time there was a decent discount.

Dress pants are like yoga pants: they do not lie. I watched him pull the slacks on, and he had to make a purposeful effort to pull them over his diaper. He buttoned and zipped them. “Well,” he asked.

“You need the bigger size. Here.” I turned him sideways to the mirror to show him not the bulge in the back but the one in the front.

“Oh,” he said. “That is pretty obvious.”

“How do they feel in the waist?”

“A tad snug.” I lifted his shirt and noted the creases just below the waist and running toward his zipper.

“I think you need pleats, too.”

“Not really in fashion,” Jordan told me. I was surprised he had any idea what was in fashion. I wouldn’t call him slovenly. There had even been a period when he’d made a point of dressing nicely, and it showed in our bank account. Then for some reason he’d gotten over that, and it was rare to see him leaving for work in anything but a pollo shirt, untucked.

The jeans looked fine. They were baggy compared to the popular style of the moment, but not so much they looked inappropriate. They just made Jordy look like someone who prioritized comfort over style. He needed the bigger size in the khakis and shorts, too.

“Are you wet,” I whispered as he was sliding down the shorts. He blushed.

“A little.”

“Do you need a change?”

“No,” he said like a deer caught in the headlights who’d been asked an uncomfortable question. “They can hold more.” Okay. How would I know?

“Just looks a little saggy. Sorry. I’ll go find the bigger size in those two pair just to be sure. Can you chill here?”

“Of course I can. And thank you.” I smiled at him as I discretely slipped out the door. I don’t know why I asked him if he could stay there. Of course he could.

Once we had pants that fit (two pair of each, one to wear and one to keep in his emergency bag in case of leaks), I took him back to the suit department to have them pants hemmed. This time I stayed in chair behind the platform while the salesperson marked the pants.

Jordan came out of the dressing room shoeless and slipped his feet into the size-15 clodhoppers the store kept here for the purpose, and he got onto the platform.

“How would you like them finished,” the salesperson asked.

“Plain bottom.”

“And the break?”

“Medium.” The salesperson marked the fold of the cuff and the backs of his thighs.

Before either of us could stop it, the salesperson had straightened up and put three fingers into the waistband. “How does it feel …” He paused for just a moment before recovering himself. “… in the waist?”

From my seat, I could see Jordan’s crimson face in the mirror. “Fine,” was all he said. One pair down, five more to go. Poor Jordy, just a smidge too short to even buy jeans without needing them hemmed.

“Sorry,” I apologized after we had paid for everything.

“They usually ask before they put their fingers in there,” he grumped.

“I’ll make it up to you when we get home.”

By the time the day was over, after we’d made love, Jordan seemed largely unaffected by the events of the day.  It started with his spanking, it ended with him getting a bunch of new things, though I wouldn’t call them presents. He seemed happy just that I wasn’t sleeping in the other room, but I did remind him there’d be no wetting in bed until his new things arrived.

[Sarah Penguin]

Fun

[kirababy]

a good chapter and seems realistic about actually being in them all the time, it is the little details in life, after all.

[CDfm]

Good new addition. I would have had to say something to the guy sticking his hand down my pants. That just isn’t acceptable. Wearing diapers or not he shouldn’t be taking those kinds of liberties with people. I was happy I could give this a like and I am looking forward to reading more. 

[Alex Bridges]

19 minutes ago, CDfm said:

Good new addition. I would have had to say something to the guy sticking his hand down my pants. That just isn’t acceptable. Wearing diapers or not he shouldn’t be taking those kinds of liberties with people. I was happy I could give this a like and I am looking forward to reading more. 

All tailors do that. They stick 2-3 fingers into the waistband, not the pants, to see if they’re too tight or too loose.

[Sarah Penguin]

2 hours ago, Author_Alex said:

All tailors do that. They stick 2-3 fingers into the waistband, not the pants, to see if they’re too tight or too loose.

*stuffs you into a playpen made of original gameboy carts and hands you a rattle shaped case containing an original flavor gameboy and points to the bottom of the playpen which is lined with matching retro infinity+1 batteries for a good hour of gaming before you run out of batteries*

[Alex Bridges]

22 minutes ago, Sarah Penguin said:

*stuffs you into a playpen made of original gameboy carts and hands you a rattle shaped case containing an original flavor gameboy and points to the bottom of the playpen which is lined with matching retro infinity+1 batteries for a good hour of gaming before you run out of batteries*

You are one of the most delightfully random people I know.

[Sarah Penguin]

9 minutes ago, Author_Alex said:

You are one of the most delightfully random people I know.

Thanks

[Alex Bridges]

Chapter 11. Jordan

 

 

         I was happy just to have Katie back in the same bed with me, but as I went to sleep that night, after having been spanked like a naughty little boy that morning, having bought diapers in person for the first time in many years, and having a tailor touch my diaper, my head was spinning a bit.

I noticed, though, that once I’d been spanked, Katie hadn’t borne a grudge. After two hours, there was no evidence she’d punished me. And the tailor carried on like everything was normal. He was a stranger, though, and one I saw rarely. I wouldn’t have to interact with him again until the next time I went to the suit department. I was still nervous about telling people I knew, and also about the trainer. That was someone I’d see regularly, and Kate told me we would be informing her.

At 4:00 on Wednesday I went to change into my gym outfit. Katie had asked me to be ready when she got hone, and had added, “No complaining. We’re doing this.” The only time I had ever worn diapers outside the house for anything other than a walk to the mailbox, I’d been in jeans, khakis, or at least khaki shorts, all materials heavy enough that they won’t reveal a diaper if they’re not too tight. But gym shorts?

I frequently wear gym shorts around the house as lounge wear, and the diaper bulge is obvious, especially in the front. I slid my new pull-up on and then my shorts, and I looked at myself in the mirror. The bulge was not noticeable, but my shorts didn’t drape like they normally do. It looked not like I was wearing a diaper but a pad.

And the pull-up came up much higher than my diaper. I appreciated how soft it was and felt it was stretchy enough to move with me, but I knew if my shirt rode up just a little, it would be on display. I tucked my shirt in, then looked at myself and untucked it, not sure what was worse: the flat look of the pad or the possibility of my shirt riding up. I decided to leave my shirt out.

I was so nervous I went to the bathroom four times in the hour I waited for Katie to get home. She was all about business and got changed. I love her in anything, but when she’s completely dressed down and has her hair pulled into a ponytail, it reminds me so much of the girl next door. Every day I’m glad she married me.

“Are you ready,” she asked me as she grabbed her keys.

“Yeah.”

“Got your pull-up on?”

“Yes, ‘Mom,’” I teased her. With a smiling half-frown she strode over to me and put her hand on my padded crotch.

“I know how little boys can sometimes fib,” she teased me back. “And you do feel ready,” she said as squeezed me, “but it’s not that kind of workout.” She winked at me.

She drove to a gym near our house that we drove by all the time. It was even within walking distance if you were okay with a longish walk on a busy road. Before we got out, she reminded me, “Just to be clear, I expect you to actually put effort into this, not just go through the motions. You might even like it.”

“I’ll try to,” I assured her. Like most gyms, it was a big box of a place, with the free weights on one side and the weight and cardio machines on the other. The free weight section was occupied mostly by men, some working out for the exercise, others because lifting was their hobby. They also seemed to me to be so much stronger and more fit than I was. A few were truly hulking. On the other side, gym goers over the age of 50 were making their way around the weight machine circuit, and a mix of men and women of all ages were using the cardio equipment. Behind a glass wall was a lap pool, with the entrances to the locker rooms on either side.

“Can I help you,” a young man behind the desk asked when we approached.

“Yes,” Kate said, “We have an appointment with Wendy.” Wendy heard her name and  came over.

“You must be Kate and Jordan,” Wendy said as she put out her hand. “Right this way.” They went to her cubicle, and she took out two clipboards. Wendy talked over goals with us, with Kate doing most of the answering for us both.

“Any medical issues I should be aware of,” Wendy asked. Kate looked at me expectantly. I looked back, suddenly aware of how well I could hear the people in the next cubicle.

“Just one,” Kate said, looking annoyed, “Jordan, do you want to tell her?”

Talking about my “problem” with the woman at the medical supply store seemed qualitatively different than telling this 22-year-old trainer. I decided to take Kate’s question as not just rhetorical, and dry mouthed, I managed to mumble, “I’d rather you did.”

Kate took my hand and said in a slightly lower voice, “Jordy has an incontinence problem and is wearing protection.”

Wendy did her best to not look surprised. Maybe this was her first time with a client with incontinence, or maybe I was just the youngest. In either case, she asked, “Does that place any limitations on his mobility or ability to exercise?”

Katie apparently decided she liked her newfound role of storyteller. “Well,” she said, “no real limitations on mobility, but he will leak when lifting anything heavy. But that shouldn’t be a problem. That’s what the protection is for.”

“Okay,” Wendy replied. “Just so you know,” she said looking now at me, “there’s a ‘family’ locker room around this corner in the back.” She indicated the near wall of the gym area, pointing behind herself and to the left. I don’t know what shade of red I was. I considered excusing myself to go to the hardware store across the parking lot to search through the paint samples to see if they had a name for it. If not, I could always write Bear and suggest “sympathetic-stranger-told-me-where-to-change-my-diaper” as a new color.

But that was all that was said, and Wendy took the two clipboards and led us to an open area with a mat and some medicine balls. She ran us through a warm up routine and had us doing plyometrics on the mat. I was distracted the entire time pulling my shirt down, knowing that on several occasions I would have shown my just-in-case underwear to whoever happened to look. Kate pulled my shirt down for me twice, and Wendy did once before apologizing. I felt a weird mixture of embarrassment and a sense of being well cared for.

By the time we were done, I was wrung out. Dieting wouldn’t be a problem for dinner, because I didn’t want to eat. Wendy told us we did great, and I think when she said she smiled at me a little differently than she did at Kate. It wasn’t exactly pity, and it wasn’t exactly condescension. It was more like she just really wanted me to know I should be proud of myself. We went back to her cubicle, and she made a workout schedule for us that included two couples sessions a week, a one-on-one session for me each week, and two workouts for me to do on my own.

“How do you feel,” Kate asked as we walked out hand in hand.

“Like I’m ready to go to bed.”

“It’s 7:00,” she retorted.

“Guess that just means I’m out of shape.”

“I hope I didn’t embarrass you in there.”

“No ... it’s fine. Guess that’s just part of getting used to it.”

“She didn’t react funny or anything.”

“Well, she did seem a little ... more attentive with me than with you,” I told her.

“Maybe because you needed a little help. Or you’re just imagining things.”

“Maybe...”

“You should wear two shirts to the gym,” Katie told me, “So you can tuck one in and not be constantly worried about your diaper showing.”

[TheBabyPants]

What a wonderful story, looking forward to more.

[Alex Bridges]

Chapter 12. Kate

 

“So what’s new with you,” Kyley asked me. “How is it being the breadwinner?”

“Stressful,” I told her. “Even with my raise we’re still making about 15% less.”

“How are you managing that,” she asked me.

“Retirement savings are a little thinner right now. Cut back on a few things.”

“Well, you’re a nicer wife than I would be. I’d have told him he could find something part time if he were that unhappy, but how much does he really make freelancing the occasional article?”

“It’s more than occasional, but yeah, he’d make more in a part time job.”

“Bet you like being in charge, though.”

“Doesn’t work like that. It’s not like I’m suddenly a fin domme now,” I told her.

“Speaking of, do you wanna go to a play party this weekend?”

“Actually, I’m taking Jordy to a munch.”

“Seriously? I thought he hated that stuff.”

“Well, he’s gonna get used to it. We made a deal.”

“So you are a little bit in charge,” Kylee teased me. “Hope he doesn’t throw a tantrum about going.”

“He won’t. Not if he knows what’s good for him,” I giggled. “Anyway, I should get home. Jordy made dinner tonight.”

“Does he know how to cook?”

“He has a few things he knows how to make. Can’t be worse than what I cook.” No one was knocking down my door for my specialty either.

“Maybe with his newfound free time you should get him some cooking lessons. Make him a little 1950s house husband,” Kylee quipped.

“How about you come to dinner next week?”

“Sure. I’ll bring the food.”

“Snob.”

“Philistine.”

The house smelled sort of good when I got home. I found Jordy in the kitchen with a sink full of pots and something in the oven. His shirt was caught on the back of his pants, and his butt looks especially bulgy.

“Hi, honey,” he said to me while standing over the stove.

“Hey. What are you making?”

“Chicken parmesan.”

“Oh,” I replied, “That’s ambitious.” And fattening. Fried chicken covered in cheese and served on pasta. I made a note to talk to him about that after dinner.

“I’m following a recipe I found online. How did people used to cook like this every night? Almost every pan we own is dirty.”

“The woman stayed home and cooked all day between doing laundry and raising the kids.”

“What did the man do?”

“Pretend he was so overcome with the stress of working in an office that all he could do we sit his ass in a recliner and drink a high ball.”

“Hmmm. Sounds miserable from both ends to me.”

“I’m gonna go change.” I went to the bedroom to get out of my work clothes. One thing I didn’t like about the promotion is I couldn’t get away with dressing any way I liked any more. The real bosses could do what they wanted. The almost-real bosses like me had to put on airs. I changed into shorts and a tank top and felt instantly better, pausing to wonder how many resources were wasted creating, transporting, buying, and maintaining clothes most people don’t wear by choice, all to show some unspecified someone we take our job seriously or something. I went into the bathroom and was pleased to see it, too, was clean. Jordy had done a good job.

When I went back out to the kitchen, Jordan was seated at the kitchen table with a glass of wine in his hand and another on the table. He smiled quietly at me.

“Glad I’m home,” I asked.

“Yeah. More fun with you here.”

“What did you do all day?”

“I did my chores, looked up that recipe, went to the store to buy the ingredients, and now I’ve been cooking for the last hour and a half. Should be done soon. How was your day?”

“I worked my butt off, and not five minutes after I closed my laptop I got an email from a higher up to the effect that I should have thought to do something without being told and could I get it done by 2:00 tomorrow.”

“And your reply?”

“That I’d do my best. I don’t even know the guy. He’s just an email address, but I got 99 problems, and what he needs ain’t one. If he wanted it, he should’ve said so.”

“And you’re not senior enough to tell him that?”

“Nope.” I finished my glass of wine. “There’s always someone more senior. His whole department is a buncha entitled jerks. They forget my department has our own clients and doesn’t work for them.”

“So crummy day?”

“Average day. Jerk just made the end worse.”

“Sorry.” The timer dinged, and Jordy got up to get dinner out of the oven.

I looked at his saggy butt when he bent over. “You been wearing that diaper long,” I asked with a laugh. I saw the back of his ears turn red.

“Uh, since noon maybe.”

“Maybe you should go change before dinner.”

“It … okay.”

“It’ll have cooled off by the time you get back.” He waddled off down the hall. I surveyed his effort at dinner. It’s relatively easy to follow a recipe. He’d printed it off, and the oil-stained sheet of paper was laying next to the stove. He’d really made an effort. He was back in less than five minutes.

“Did you remember to wash your hands,” I teased him. He blushed at me and went to the sink. “Jordan!”

“I forgot.”

“Well, no more forgetting. Yuck. And you really should change more often.” I reminded myself I didn’t want to be in charge of his diapering, but he was soaked.

“Those diapers can hold a lot,” he protested as he dried his hands.

“But you’ll start to smell.” He didn’t respond to that but instead served dinner. I poured us both another glass of wine. Dinner was good. Heavy, but good. I wanted to be sensitive and not ungrateful for all the work he’d done, but I felt I had to make it clear he couldn’t cook meals like that very often. After we’d done the dishes together, I took his hand and led him to the living room, pulling him down to the couch with him leaning against me. I kissed the top of his head and played with his hair. He always likes it when I do that.

“Did you like dinner,” he asked.

“I did. You did a good job.” I considered how to put this. “How about you spend some time tomorrow coming up with a menu for the week?”

“Okay.”

“Maybe something a little lighter the next few nights.”

“Like what?”

“Up to you. Just … something with at least one vegetable, and maybe less carbs. Grilled.”

“Was that too fattening?” He sounded worried.

“Not for maybe a one a week dinner, but we can’t eat like that every night. Maybe find some good websites with lighter recipes. Doesn’t have to be diet food, just something healthier.”

“Okay.” I looked at him from above for a moment.

“Don’t be like that. Dinner really was good. Fried food just needs to be rare is all.” I slid my hands over his shoulders and clasped them across his chest. He was reclined against me, and I think we’d both have fallen asleep right then between the long day, heavy meal, and the wine if not for what happened next.

Jordy was laying so he was partly resting on my leg. I suddenly felt something warm on my leg. Not wet, just warm. It certainly jolted me out of my stupor. But I wasn’t upset. His pee stayed in his diaper. I reached for the remote and kept playing with his hair.

[Sarah Penguin]

*waves* Yay for updates   Well they'll burn off the calories if you're making on of those every pot you've got meals clean without dishwashers and modern cleaning products

[CDfm]

These were two great new chapters. He seems to be accepting the being outed as being incontinent pretty well. I think the one thing that would really weigh heavily on me is that I wasn’t contributing to the home at all. His more than an occasional article doesn’t seem to be doing much good. He shouldn’t be putting that extra pressure on his wife like that. I again ran out of likes. But hopefully the next time I can give it one. I am looking forward to reading more. 

[Alex Bridges]

Chapter 13. Jordan

 

            I once got a phone call in the middle of the day from someone who didn’t call me in the middle of the day. He called to tell me someone had died. From that day forward, if he called before 6pm, I got nervous as soon as I saw his name on my phone. Kate doesn’t call me during the day.

            “Are you okay,” she asked me.

            “Uh, yeah.”

            “Wendy just called me.” SHIT! I’d totally forgotten I had a solo appointment with her. “Why aren’t you there?”

            “Uh, ya know, honey, I guess I just forgot. I’m sorry she interrupted you. She should have called me.” I was hoping by apologizing and maybe changing the subject from me missing the appointment for her being interrupted she’d be less upset.

            “She doesn’t have your number. She says she has an opening at three today if you leave right now.”

            “Okay. I’ll go right now.”

            “I’m going to be home at six. Be showered and waiting for me.” Needless to say my workout wasn’t so fun as I wondered what Kate had in store for me. I sat quietly on the sofa after my shower, listening for the sound of the garage door. When I heard it, I turned off the TV.

            “Jordan,” Kate called as she shut the door. She didn’t shout, so that was something. But then, I didn’t really expect her to. Shouting and yelling isn’t Kate. Her voice may get a little forceful at time, but she doesn’t raise it. Frankly, I wouldn’t have married her if she did. I grew up in a house with a mom who shouted, and it never failed to upset me.

            “How was your day,” I asked.

            “Later for that. Follow me.” She put her purse on the counter, and I followed her to the bedroom. “Here,” she said, pointing to the small space between her dresser and the corner. “This is your naughty spot. You’re going to stand in it while I change and clean up. You are not to turn around until I tell you to. Understand?”

            “Yes.” She stepped aside, and I took my place in the corner. When I agreed to Kate’s request for a domestic discipline relationship, I did it knowing that a spanking is a sexual act, and therefore it’s something that adults do. I didn’t think much at all about the other punishment she mentioned might happened. It was spanking I feared. But now here I was with my nose in the corner, a punishment that isn’t really adult at all. I don’t think I’d had a timeout since I was under ten. I felt ridiculous and incredibly bored, and a knot formed in my stomach as I thought about what might be next. All told, I was there about ten minutes and as soon as it was up, I wished it wasn’t.

            “You can come out.” I turned around. “Come sit down.” She patted the bed next to her as she took a seat.

            “I’m sorry,” I tried to say before she cut me off.

            “In a little bit I’ll accept your apology. First, though, we need to have a little talk.” She looked at me, and then I realized she was waiting for me to acknowledge it. I nodded. She began, “I believe you when you said you just forgot. It’s a new routine all around, and people forget. I’m not asking much. You have ten hours a day free that you didn’t have a few months ago, and I didn’t ask you to fill all of it, and you agreed to it. Those sessions are expensive, and I paid for two of them today because you missed one. I did that instead of just having you miss one because I set up those sessions because it’s important for us to take better care of ourselves than we have. It only goes downhill from here. Understand all that?”

            “Yes. Sorr…”

            “Not yet. You understand that’s because I love you?”

            “Yes.”

            “Okay. So you’re going to be punished.”

            I couldn’t help interrupting. “Do I …” She looked cross, but I kept going. “Do you have to spank me, though? I promise I won’t forget again. Really.” So apparently I was more scared of a spanking than sounding like a little boy trying to get out of a spanking.

            “Yes, I do have to spank you, Jordy. It’s partly a punishment, but it’s also a reminder so the next time you have an appointment with Wendy you’ll remember how this spanking felt and then you’ll remember the appointment.” She let that sink in while I looked at my feet until she gently took her finger, put it under my chin, and guided my gaze back to her. “I’ve decided that I don’t want to use our bedroom for punishment. I want this to be where we make love. Punishment can happen in other rooms. Stand up, please. Is your diaper wet?” Everything was happening fast and slow at the same time.

            “Yes,” I groaned in humiliation. I didn’t mind telling her, generally speaking. I did mind telling her before a spanking. She stood up, and to my complete surprise she put her hand on my butt.

            “Dry enough back here. C’mon.” She took my hand, and I realized she was leading me to the kitchen. I didn’t want to be spanked at all, but definitely not in the kitchen! I didn’t get spanked in the kitchen when I was a kid!

            “Stop dragging your feet, Jordy. That won’t help.” I hadn’t realized I was. She let go of my hand when we got to the kitchen, then walked across to the counter, opened the utensil drawer, and took out a wooden spoon. I didn’t think that would be so bad. It’s very light. With a tilt of her head, she indicated the kitchen table on the other side of the counter. I went and stood next to it as she walked behind me. I stopped, and she stepped around me, turned a kitchen chair into the room, and sat down.

            Figuring she’d go easier on me if I cooperated, I put my hand on my waistband. “Uh uh,” she said, “I’ll do that.” She pulled my shorts down for me, leaving me in just my diaper and t-shirt. Being face to face with my diaper seemed to make her pause. She made a face; I couldn’t tell what she was thinking. She reached out, and I instinctively backed away. She caught my hand and gave me a dirty look. Then she reached out and touched the front of my diaper, and reached around and touched the back.

            Kate had touched my diapers at that point on few enough occasions to be able to count them and still have toes left over for more. I hadn’t seen that coming at all. I knew that; I’d just told her, and then she’d touched me through my shorts. I was just a little wet in the front.

            “You’re not that wet,” she said. She seemed to think for a moment. “C’mon,” she said at last, “Over my knee.” I swallowed, and she held my hand as I tried to lower myself over her legs. I felt like a triangle, feet hold me up at one end and hands at the other, with my pelvis over her lap. At least she wasn’t taking my diaper down.

            “Hold still.” I closed my eyes anticipating the first spank. Instead of feeling her hand on my butt, I felt it slip under me, search around, and then a tug as she pulled a tape loose. Then she reached over me and did the same. Suddenly there was cool air on my butt as she pulled my diaper back.

            “All the way down now,” Kate instructed me. “C’mon. You won’t hurt me.” My mouth was so dry. I’d thought my first spanking was embarrassing. That felt like a trial balloon compared to this. I bent my knees and let my pelvis come to rest on her lap, with my butt perched over over her right leg.

            “Remember: I’m doing this because I love you.” And then she started spanking me with her hand. I gritted my teeth as he hand spanked me everywhere seemingly at random and so quickly I could hardly distinguish between individual spanks. I clamped my eyes shut, trying to focus on supporting my weight with my arms, which were starting to tremble, and as her hand got heavier.

            She slowed down and became more methodical, heavy, hard hitting spanks turning my butt who knew what shade of red as she worked her way from top to sit spot, each spank overlapping with the rest. I didn’t even try to count. She certainly wasn’t. We were well past 100. I started to grunt with each spank. I tried not to, tried to take it quietly, but my “umphs” and “ughs” just slipped out each time.

            She paused, and I opened my eyes and took a few rapid but deep breaths. I kept my eye on my hands, my arms feeling like noodles as I heard the spoon scrape the wood of the table as she picked it up. Staying quiet wasn’t a consideration. I just didn’t want her to spank me with that thing! No spanking me more at all! “No,” I pleaded, “I’ve learned my lesson. I’ll go to the sessions. I won’t forget! I promise! Ahh! Ahh! Ugh! Kate! UGH!”

            She didn’t even acknowledge my pleading. And how wrong had I been about that spoon. That little piece of wood packs a bite, a sharp sting, and Kate added to it with harder and harder swings, flicking her wrist downward and snapping that spoon against my butt. My arms gave out, and I let myself slump forward. My grunts were one continuous sound now, and I realized belatedly that I was holding in a sob. She smacked at my sit spots repeatedly and landed a rapid five on the back of each thigh, and then it all stopped.

            My brow was sweaty, my breathing was shaky, there was a lump in my throat, and I felt like my sinuses were full. I laid across my wife’s knees trying to just calm myself down. I jumped at the touch of her hand on my butt, softly touching it, lightly rubbing it. I could feel the heat radiating off of me to her hand and back. My butt was a stinging throb.

            “You can get up now, Jordy,” Kate told me. With her help, I stood up, and my hands immediately went to my butt. It felt tight, and I realized that was because it was swollen. My butt was actually swollen! I looked at Kate with both hands on my bottom, and I must’ve looked shocked or wounded because she opened her arms and hugged me, rubbing my back and whispering, “It’s all over.”

            She stepped back, and her hand came to my face, and with her thumb she wiped my cheek. A tear, I realized. That was more embarrassing than being spanked, more embarrassing than the wet diaper that was hanging open around my hips by just one set of tapes. I wanted to pull it up at least, but I figured that would hurt. I felt like I had to finally say something.

            “I’m sorry,” is what I said, my voice sounding soft.

            Kate smiled at me. “You done being naughty?”

            “Mhmm. I won’t miss another session.”

            “Then I accept your apology.” She kissed me on the cheek. “Why don’t you wash your face, change your diaper, and then we’ll make dinner together. Sound good?”

            “Mhmm.”

            She knelt down. “Step out.” I stepped out of my shorts, and she handed them to me. “Don’t be too long.”

            I waddled to the bathroom, and once there got a look at my butt in the mirror. It wasn’t crimson, but it was definitely a hot, angry red, and it was covered in dozens of ellipsoids, the shape of the convex part of that nasty spoon that I would never be able to cook with again without thinking about how it felt to be on the business end of it. The skin of my butt felt rough, and it felt like it was getting tighter, still swelling a little.

            I felt stupid, is how I felt in that moment as I stripped off that diaper and got another on me. I felt a little sorry for myself, but just a little. Kate was very affectionate and gentle with me for the rest of the evening.

            I now count that as my first real spanking from her.

[Sarah Penguin]

Hmm now I wonder now that buisiness end was mentioned what would it be like to be stirred? *blinks*

[Alex Bridges]

34 minutes ago, Sarah Penguin said:

Hmm now I wonder now that buisiness end was mentioned what would it be like to be stirred? *blinks*

I was thinking the same thing!

[WBDaddy]

So I'm left to wonder now, as this gets deeper and deeper... 

How much of this is author fantasy versus author reality?  

The methodical nature of the spankings makes me question this, because I've swatted a bare ass or two in my life, and the idea of even fifty swats makes my hand quiver.  I mean, I've done fifty, but I didn't do them anywhere near full force, and I've done twenty at full force and found myself wishing I'd chosen an implement.

[Sarah Penguin]

On 7/5/2019 at 10:20 AM, Author_Alex said:

I was thinking the same thing!

now that's spooky!