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

[CDfm]

Oh wow. I could feel that spanking. Good new addition to the story. I still don’t have any likes but will try for the next chapter. I am looking forward to reading more. 

[Alex Bridges]

Chapter 14. Kate

 

“Thank so much for having us over, Kate,” my mom, Karen, said to me as we sat on our deck. “It’s been a while since we had a family dinner.”

“I know … and we always say we should do this more often.”

“I like having all three of my daughters together in one place.”

“Me, too,” I said before turning to Jordy, who was at the grill. “Sure you don’t need any help, Jordy?”

“I think I got it,” he said over his shoulder. I felt a little sorry for him. We were having this dinner specifically so we could get Jordan’s new undie issue out into the open all at once, at least with my family. I couldn’t imagine the butterflies he must’ve had in his tummy. It looked like he was doing his best to not squirm in nervousness as he stood there. I knew the grill didn’t need his constant attention, and I would’ve popped his little butt for being rude to our guest, but I knew he was being shy, not rude. My cute little guy.

“Hey,” I heard my sister Kelsey say as she came around the corner of our side yard with her husband, Brian.

“Hi,” I said back. I gave her a hug and took a bowl of pasta salad from Brian. “I’ll take this inside. Either of you want a beer?”

“What’s on the table,” Brian asked, pointing to the pitcher.

“Gin and tonic. Ice is in the bucket.”

“Perfect. Thank you.”

“Jordy, say ‘hi’,” I reminded him. I was sure he could manage that even if he was feeling shy. Kelsey followed me inside.

“Wow,” she said as she looked around at the kitchen and stuck her head around the corner into the living room. “You didn’t have to go to all this trouble just for family.”

“What trouble?”

“Everything is so clean. You hire a maid with that big raise you got?”

“Actually, we’ve cut back on things since Jordy started freelancing. And one of his jobs is to keep the house clean now.”

“Send him over to my house next week,” my sister quipped. The doorbell rang. “Must be Liz.”

I went to open the door, and I gave my little sister a hug with one arm as she balanced a pie on her other arm. Liz appointed herself in charge of dessert at some point in our holiday past, and no one has ever attempted a coup since. “Apple,” I asked hopefully.

“Yep. Why does everything look different? Did you get new carpet?”

“Jordy rented a steam cleaner to do the carpet Thursday. How’s school?” Liz is eight years younger than me and had opted to go back to school to finish her doctorate. She was a full-time student living on a pittance of a stipend for being a teaching assistant.

“Ask me in a month.”

“Your comps? How do you feel about that?”

“Like the entire process is a draconian sufferfest that grad programs continue to inflict only because all the professors had to do it, and making us miserable is their way of purging the trauma.”

“You’ve been saving that?”

“I’ve had many opportunities to rehearse it for the past year. Are we serving hard liquor tonight?”

“Pitcher of G&T on the deck.” Liz nodded as she set the pie on the counter and walked outside with Kelsey, whispering something to her. I followed. Brian was standing next to Jordy at the grill, drink in hand and looking like he was trying very hard to make small talk. The two of them don’t have much in common. Jordy is a writer; Brian is an engineer. Jordy reads classics; Brian reads car magazines. Jordy likes to hike and swim; Brian likes to watch sports and tailgate. Jordy is short, slim, quiet, and reserved; Brian is tall, thick, and gregarious. I’ve always liked Brian, but I also get tired of him sometimes. He can be a bit much with the testosterone sometimes, but the important thing is my sister loves him, and he makes her happy.

“So what’s it like to not be working,” I heard Brian ask Jordy.

         Before he could answer, I answered for him, “Jordan works every day.”

         “I know … I just meant …”

         “I know what you meant,” Jordan said. “I like it better. I set my own schedule, I get more done, and I feel a lot healthier.” I’m not sure, but when Brian first learned Jordan was going to freelance I think I caught a hint of some condescension, like Brian thought less of Jordan for quitting the rat race, and maybe even for having the mental health issues in the first place. I think Kelsey must’ve said something about that to him, because I never did and certainly Jordy never did. I didn’t want to make a thing of it, and Jordy wouldn’t have wanted me to, so I never asked her if she had, but it did make me a little leery of what I could confide in her. I thought there was an unspoken agreement between us that we could talk about each other’s husbands, and it would stay between us. Or maybe my suspicions are all ill-founded, and she never said a word.

         “Good,” Brian said.

         “What are you working on right now,” my mom asked him.

         “I’m writing a piece on the student loan crisis and its connection to higher education reform. I have my doubts about it getting published, though, at least in its current form.”

         “Why’s that?”

         “It’s not a top-5 list or about the newest superfood.” Jordy loves to write but hates the media’s superficial focus on just about everything. Shy or not, it’s one of those topics he can get rolling on, and lord knows I’ve heard his thoughts on the subject about a million and one times.

         “How’s that meat coming,” I asked him, hoping to cut off that line of thought before it turned into a conversation.

         “It’s coming. About a half hour.”

         “Why don’t you two come sit down then.” I patted the chair next to mine. The backyard had been a major consideration of ours when we were shopping for a home. We both wanted a lot of space, and the large deck was great for entertaining. Not that we entertained much – hardly at all, really – but I liked the idea that we could if we wanted to, and the yard itself was large and flat. I dislike yardwork but like gardening, and I thought about perhaps adding more decorative landscaping. As I sat there, I considered the ethics of making it one of Jordy’s chores.

         He’d done so well with his chores so far. When I found him, he was one of the messiest bachelors I’d ever known, and his tolerance for a messy house, and especially a dirty kitchen and bathroom, would have been impressive were it not so gross. I thought by now I’d have had to discipline him for neglecting his chores, but it was almost two weeks into our new routine, and he was doing well, as evidenced by the compliments I’d gotten.

         “Liz and Kelsey both noticed what a nice job you’ve done with the house,” I told him. I wanted him to feel proud.

         “Did you remodel something,” Brian asked.

         “No, he’s just been keeping it very clean,” I replied.

         “Oh.” Brian didn’t seem impressed.

         “How did you get him to clean,” Kelsey asked.

         “I have a lot more time now,” Jordan said for himself, “I just do it.” I’d have called him out for being a fibber if he wasn’t already having a trying day.

         “It’s very nicely done,” my mom told him. I think she always preferred Jordan to Brian.

         “Thank you,” Jordan said. I looked at Jordan expectantly now. We had discussed the best time to deliver the news, and we agreed before dinner was better. We could get it out of the way, and then we’d serve the food, and we could move on to more pleasant topics. I wanted him to be the one to tell them, as I still didn’t want to be in charge of anything relating to his diapers, including handling appearances with others, but he’d practically begged me to tell them for him, and I didn’t have the heart to say no. He surreptitiously nodded to me and poured himself a second, or perhaps third, drink. I wasn’t keeping count for him. Also not something I wanted to be in charge of.

         “The reason we wanted you call to come over this evening is we have some news,” I began.

         “You’re pregnant,” Kelsey almost shouted. She was smiling ear to ear. She’d left her own kids with a babysitter, and despite having told her many, many times over the years that Jordan and I wouldn’t be having kids, she always dreamed of cousins for her kids to play with. Don’t get me wrong – I love my niece and nephew to death – but raising kids is not for us. Kelsey would just have to wait until Liz had kids. Liz looked at Kelsey like she was bored by Kelsey’s surrogate baby fever, and Mom looked at me trying and failing to suppress a smile in the obvious hope Kelsey was right.

         “No,” I said firmly. “I’m not. I …” I took a breath and reached over to take Jordy’s hand. “Jordy and I wanted to tell you about some not at all serious medical news.” Still with that preface, suddenly everyone looked worried. “It’s not a big deal – at all – but we wanted to tell you so that if it ever came up, it wouldn’t be a surprise.” Jordy was blushing and staring at his own lap.

         “Jordan has had some continence issues for a long time now, and the problem is progressing, and Jordan decided the best way for him to handle it is with adult incontinence briefs. We wanted everyone to know just in case you ever saw them by accident.”

I paused and quickly surveyed the faces around the table. Kelsey looked concerned. Liz looked like the news bounced off her – her standard M.O. and in the circumstance, I thought a pretty healthy response. Brian looked like he was pitying Jordan, which bugged me because whether I had just lied like a liar, I didn’t care for the implication that my husband needed to be pitied. I was proud of his choice, both the ones he actually made to be happier and the fake one we were explaining to them.

Mom reached over and took Jordan by his other wrist, trying to soothe him by rubbing her thumb across the top of his hand. “I’m sorry, Jordy,” she said.

“So,” I replied, “if you have any questions, let’s get them out of the way, and then we can have a have a nice, normal dinner.”

“Are the doctors hopeful of finding a solution,” my mom asked. I’d told Jordan he’d have to answer most of the questions himself.

“No, uh, they’re not sure what the underlying problem is, but it all started when I was in an accident in college, and they think it’s just getting worse as I get older.”

“But you’re not old,” Kelsey said.

“No,” I said, “But not everyone with this problem is old, and not everyone who is old has this problem.”

“And they’re sure it’s not tied to something more serious,” Mom asked.

“They’re sure, Karen. Thanks for being so concerned, but it’s not a big deal, really.”

“Is that why you quit work,” Brian asked.

“No. One has nothing to do with the other,” I said.

“A ‘brief’ is a diaper, right,” he asked. Kelsey, Mom, and Liz all gave him a dirty look.

“Yes, and we’re fine with that word,” I said, “Using euphemisms just attaches more stigma to it. Right, Jordy”

“R-r-right,” he stuttered.

“Like I said, this isn’t a big deal, and we’re not gonna treat it like one. Jordy just wears a different kind of underwear than before.”

“So right now …” Brian asked without finishing the sentence.

“Yes,” I said. I don’t think Brian is deliberately obtuse, but he was obviously not picking up on Jordy’s body language or his red face or his tone or his stutter, which Brian at least should have known, after all those years, is something Jordy only does when he’s anxious. Regardless, right then, if he were my husband, I’d be taking him inside for the paddling of a lifetime and then an early bedtime without supper for being so insensitive, even if it wasn't intentional.

My Mom then asked, “Have you tried other things? I see commercial on TV for catheters.” She did, because she watches cable news, and apparently a lot of people who watch cable news need catheters.

“Yes,” Jordy lied, “And I found them too uncomfortable.”

“And they cause UTIs,” I added. Brian wouldn’t know how those felt, but all the women around the table did.

“What about … I don’t know what they call them,” Kelsey said, “catheters you wear on the outside? My friend told me about those when she was taking care of her dad. That … doesn’t that …” She was trying to find the right words. “Wouldn’t that be less embarrassing,” she asked.

“Could you tell what he was wearing when you got here,” I asked. I was starting to feel a bit defensive, and even though we’d agreed Jordy would lead on answering questions, in the moment, as he had been blushing for four straight minutes, I felt protective, I guess. “I can’t tell most of the time, and I know. Plus, it’s only embarrassing because of the stigma other people attach, and they’re just wrong. I’m proud of Jordy for making a responsible and hard choice. That’s the most mature thing he could do.”

Later that night after everyone had gone home, I contemplated how having embarked on this lie, Jordy and I both internalized it so well that it didn’t feel like a lie, and this didn’t feel like a performance. I felt like a pretty good actor when I realized that’s what I’d been doing. Jordy was, in our minds, incontinent, and it was from that reality that we responded to their questions.

“Liz,” I said, “Do you have any questions?”

“How are you doing with it,” she asked Jordy. Let’s face it – whether it’s siblings or parents or children, we all have favorites. Liz is my favorite. She’s always been a sweet person, but right then, when it felt like Kelsey and Brian were pitying my husband and thinking about solutions to his problem based on their own bias about how awful a diaper must be for an adult, that Liz’s question was how Jordy felt about all this made me feel like I loved her just a little bit more than I had an hour ago.

Jordy closed his eyes and nodded his head a few times as he exhaled. “Really,” he said, “I’m okay. It’s the best thing for me right now. And it might not even be permanent.”

“What about a pad, or even pull-ups,” Kelsey asked.

“We’re aware of all the products out there,” I said, wanting to end the what-abouts, “and Jordan is most comfortable with this one, and I’m comfortable with whatever he says is best for him.”

She got the hint. We sat in silence for about twenty seconds until Mom ended the conversation with, “I bet that meat is almost done. Should we start getting the rest out of the fridge?”

I appreciated that, and I know Jordan did, too. Over the course of dinner and the rest of the evening, he got more talkative, helped along by another drink, and as we’d hoped, it turned into a normal dinner with my family. I did notice my mom and Kelsey both, and Brian, seeming to scrutinize Jordy’s butt, and it seemed Brian was a little less boisterous than usual, but if Jordy noticed, he didn’t seem to care. He got a hug from everyone but Brian – which Jordan wouldn’t have wanted anyway, just a solid handshake – as they left. Mom gave him an extra-long one.

“Thank you. That went well, I guess,” Jordy said to me once everyone had left. He hugged me, and I hugged him back and gave him a kiss. Standing up for him, sort of, gave me a little funny feeling in my tummy.

“I love you, Jordy, and so do they.” His cheeks looked flushed. “I think you drank too much, babe.”

“I was nervous.”

“How do you feel now?”

“Like I drank too much.”

“Why don’t you head upstairs, and I’ll clean up most of it. We can finish the rest tomorrow.”

“Thank you.” He kissed me. “I’ll see you upstairs soon?”

“Yeah.” He started up the stairs, holding the railing as he went and wobbling a bit. “And change your diaper,” I called after him. I don’t know why. Of course he would. He always did before before bed.

On an impulse I still don’t understand, I washed two plates and then headed upstairs, gently knocking on the bathroom door and saying, “Do you need help?”

There was a pause before Jordan answered, “No. I got it.”

“Are you sure? You're not too drunk?”

“Yeah, I’m sure … thank you, though.”

“Okay. I’ll be in the kitchen if you do.”

Those terry-lined plastic panties sure came in handy that night. He was one leaky boy, or that was one leaky diaper, or both.

[WBDaddy]

Heh.  From experience, you definitely pee more when you're drunk, and I've yet to find a diaper that could stand up to my being drunk without multiple boosters. 

[Sarah Penguin]

[Alex Bridges]

Chapter 15. Jordan

 

“What’s wrong, Jordy,” Kate asked me impatiently. We were lying on the sofa together watching a movie.

“Nothing, honey. Just trying to get comfortable,” I told her, “Sorry.” She looked annoyed and turned back to the TV. Try as I might, I couldn’t get comfortable, and it wasn’t because of the couch. I itched down there, it hurt a little, and it felt like it was getting worse. I tried to discretely scratch myself down there, impossible to do through my shorts and diaper. Finally, Kate exhaled, paused the movie and gave me a dirty look.

“Do you need to go change your diaper?”

“No.” I really didn’t. It was wet, but it could hold more. I blushed and felt like I shrunk an inch when Kate looked at me doubtfully, like I was a toddler who didn’t want to stop playing long enough to get his pants changed. Kate sat up, leaned over, and put her hand up my shorts, giving me a you-better-not look when I jumped back a little in surprise.

“You’re wet,” Kate announced.

“I know, but these diapers can hold more.”

“Apparently not comfortably,” she said, assuming that was why I was uncomfortable. “Really, you should go change.”

“Honey, I promise it doesn’t need to be changed yet.”

She sighed at me. “Stand up.” I rolled my eyes but stood up in front of her, and she whisked my shorts down as soon as I did. “You need to go change,” she said to me with a quick glance at my diaper.

“But...”

She cut me off, “Do you have any idea how ridiculous you are right now, arguing with me over a diaper change like a three-year-old? Do you need your bottom swatted like one, too?”

She gave me a swat as I went to go change, and it hurt, which it wouldn’t normally through a wet diaper. I went to our bathroom and took off my diaper, and the air felt good and bad at the same time. I I passed a wipe over my perineum, and that just plain hurt. I put a foot on the vanity and tried to twist to I could see what the problem was in the mirror, but I couldn’t get a good view. Wishing we had a hand mirror I could squat over, I recalled the vows we exchanged – for better or worse, in sickness and in health - and called out, “Katie, could you come here for a second?”

She came in slowly, sticking her head around the door rather than walk right in. I suppose it was a sign of how far I’d come that while I was embarrassed, I at least managed to keep my anxious stammer to a minimum.

“Something h-h-hurts, and I can’t s-see it.” She came into the bathroom.

“Where does it hurt?”

“My p-perineum.”

“What’s that?”

“The medical name for my taint,” I told her. She smiled ever so slightly and then hid it. I started to blush.

“Well, I’m not gonna squat underneath you, so grab a towel and lay on the bed.” I followed her into the bedroom and did as she said. “Open your legs for me”

She inspected me for a second. “Yeah, you’re definitely red down here. Move your bits out of the way.” I lifted my sack up so she could see under it. “Jordy! You’re bright red down here!” She sounded equal parts concerned and upset with me.

“What do you think it it?”

“Jordan Louis, it’s a diaper rash, duh. Have you been using rash cream at each change?”

“Yes,” I lied. She looked at me like a fibbing toddler again.

“Stay right here.” She went to the bathroom, and I could hear her rummaging under the sink. She looked pissed when she came back in. “This rash cream, this almost full tube of rash cream?”

I let my head drop down to the bed. I’m not sure why I lied, or why I didn’t think it would be such an easy lie for her to figure out. All I had to do was think four seconds ahead, and I didn’t seem able to manage it in the moment.

“Roll over,” she ordered me.

“Honey ...”

“Now!”

Her tone, and knowing I was only going to make it worse if I didn’t do as I was told, convinced me. As soon as I did, I got five sharp spanks on my butt, smacked out in time with my wife sternly saying to me, “You. Do. Not. Tell. Lies.” She sat down next to me on the bed. “You deserve a much bigger spanking, but your butt has a little rash, and I’m not that mean. It’s not as bad on your butt as under your bits.”

“Sorry,” I mumbled.

“Why did you lie to me?”

“I thought you’d be mad.”

“I more disappointed about the rash. We talked about you taking care of yourself down there.”

“I just get lazy about it sometimes,” I said by way of excuse. “I never got a rash down there before.”

“You’ve never been in diapers 24/7 before. I am mad about you lying to me, but I’m not going to spank on a diaper rash ... At least, not this time. But you are going to go to bed early.”

“It’s only 7:30!”

The look she gave me was withering. “Do I need to wash the lies out of your mouth, buster?”

“No!” I absolutely did not want to learn what soap tastes like.

“Roll back over and spread your legs again.” I did, and she took another look. “This looks bad. It looks wet.”

“I’ll use the cream from now on.”

“I know you will, but I think you need to go see the doctor.”

“That’s ... I don’t think so. Can we just see how the rash cream does on it?” I did NOT want to go see my doctor about a diaper rash.

“Honey,” Kate said patiently, “This looks ...” She sighed. “I’ll look at it again in the morning, and if it’s any worse, I’m taking you to the doctor. Okay?”

Knowing that was the best deal I was going to get, I accepted with a nod.

“Now, go change and be back in here with the lights out in 5 minutes. I’ll come check on you.”

 

When I sat up the next morning, I regretted it. I eased myself off the bed and waddled toward the bathroom with Kate watching me. You’d have thought I’d been riding a horse with neither saddle for him nor pants for me.

“We’re going to the doctor,” Kate declared as she watched me.

“Okay,” I eagerly agreed over my shoulder.

Kate worked from home, and I tried to do the same. I eventually retreated to the guest bedroom, took off my shorts and diaper, and laid on my stomach with my legs open behind me, trying to type in that position. An hour later, Kate came in holding a towel.

“Lay on this,” she said, kneeling down next to me.

“Why?”

“In case you have an accident, and to keep the rash cream you slathered on your diaper area off the carpet.”

The second point was valid, and I propped myself up while Kate pushed the towel under me. “I’ll order some washable pads later,” she said. I decided not to say anything in response. I couldn’t tell if she was joking or what her deal was, but I knew I was on thin ice. “We’re leaving in another hour, and yes, you have to wear a diaper.”

“I know,” I said. I wanted to. I knew air was the best thing for a diaper rash, and I still wanted to put my diaper back on. I did and do always feel right in a diaper, and rarely right with out one.

An hour later, I followed Kate to the car. “Ahem,” she said.

“What?”

“Are you forgetting something?” I checked my pockets. Phone, wallet. She gave me that patient look you give to kids when you’re trying to let them do things themselves and see they’ve forgotten a step, and then you remind yourself to be patient because they’ll learn some day.

“Your diaper bag,” she said. She nodded toward the door, and I waddled back in and grabbed it.

“I’ll get use to remembering,” I assured her. She drove while I sat on alternating butt cheeks.

“This isn’t the way to my doctor,” I observed.

“I’m taking you to mine.”

“Why?”

“Well, now that you’re on my insurance, I know that she’s in network for you, and she’s kink friendly.”

“How do you know that?”

“I know,” Kate smiled. “And I texted her this morning and told her about what’s going on, and she canceled another appointment to squeeze us in.”

“Why did you tell her?”

“Because I think this will be easier that way. If we went to your doctor, we’d have had to either lie to him, and then you’d have been referred to a urologist, or tell the truth, and I know you don’t want that. At least this way, we’re telling the truth to someone who gets it.”

“Okay.”

“Cheer up! We’ll get you sorted out,” Kate reassured me with a smile. She put her hand on my knee and gave it a squeeze.

After a few minutes of silence, I asked, “What did you mean by ‘in case I have an accident’ this morning?”

“Well, I’ve been thinking about it, and I think since people now know about you’re quote-unquote incontinent, it will be easier to maintain appearances if we act like you are all the time. So, no sitting on anything for more than a few minutes without a diaper on or a towel or pad under you.”

“Really? That doesn’t seem a little much,” I asked skeptically.

“No. Besides, I thought you might enjoy it a little more if we really committed to the fantasy.” We arrived and parked before I could respond. I didn’t know if I liked adding that to the fantasy or not.

Kate seemed to want to be in the driver’s seat, because she approach the receptionist desk with me and held out her hand when the woman asked for my driver’s license and insurance card. I handed them to Kate, and Kate handed them to the receptionist. I sat gingerly while I filled out my new patient paperwork.

“I’m surprised you got me an appointment this quickly,” I said as I checked box after box.

“Like I said, I texted her. She’s a friend. I know her from the scene ... she’s gonna love you. Just promise me you’ll behave.” Kate added. When I finished the dozenth form, Kate looked over it all like she was checking my homework before she took it back to the desk. We waited another twenty minutes before being called.

“You can stay here,” I said when she got up as well.

“Nonsense,” was all she said as she indicated for me to walk in front of her. After I was weighed, we were taken to an exam room, where the 24-year-old nurse got on the computer, entered my weight, and started taking my vitals.

“So what brings you in today,” she asked. This had to be her first job out of nursing school. If it wasn’t, she probably wouldn’t have batted an eye when Kate said, “I think he has a pretty bad diaper rash.” The nurse didn’t laugh or smile - I’m pretty sure Kate would’ve chewed her out good for that - but she got a queer look on her face like she was processing that, and then she went on with her work. It was a passing look, and I understood why, but it didn’t go unnoticed. As she got the last number entered in, she reached under the counter, opened a cabinet, and took out a paper gown.

“Could you change into this please? The doctor will be in in just a few.” The nurse left.

“She’s cute,” my wife observed.

“I’m married already,” I quipped as I got changed into the gown. I was facing away from the door trying to tie up the back when the doctor simultaneously knocked and came in.

“Don’t bother tying it up,” she said. “We’re gonna need to get back there in just a minute.” I turned around.

I don’t understand why doctors wear lab coats, especially internists. She was about fifty with very straight, prematurely grey hair that hung in a braid well past her shoulders. “I’m Dr. Janaway,” she said as she held out her hand, “But you can call me Angie.” I shook her hand. Kate stood up and opened her arms for a hug.

“So good to see you,” Kate said to the doctor as they embraced.

“It’s been a little while.”

“Thanks for squeezing us in.”

“Well, when you told me about him I was just too curious not to.” Angie turned back to me. “Can you hop up on the table for me?” I carefully did. “Aww,” she said as she watched me gingerly ease my butt onto the table. “We’ll get that taken care of.” She logged in to the computer and talked to Kate instead of me.

“So what seems to be the problem,” the doctor asked.

“He’s got a diaper rash, or least I think that’s what it is, and it looks pretty bad. He was uncomfortable last night, and this morning he woke up walking bow-legged.”

“O, that’s no good,” the doctor said as she took notes. Doctors always take notes, and it occurred to me as she did that she was immortalizing this moment. Every doctor I saw who was part of the same heath system, every doctor who used the same software system, in fact, would see this in the record.

“How long have you had him back in diapers?”

“About a month,” Kate told her, “and actually, this is his idea.”

“Really? Is someone just not ready to be a big boy,” Angie said to me in a pinched, almost song-songy tone. She smiled at me, and I was about to respond and explain I’m not an adult baby - something I never thought I’d have to explain to a doctor - when she immediately turned back to Kate. “Does he have poppy accidents, too?”

“No,” Kate said, “For now it’s just potty.”

“Excuse me,” I said as Angie took another note. “I can answer.” I said it politely.

“No need to pout,” Kate said to me. Something about the situation made me reply with a weak, “S-s-sorry.”

“Can you lay back for me,” Angie asked. I did, and she reached over me to take two gloves out of the box mounted on the wall.

“Just be still for me,” she said.

As I laid back, Angie narrated what she was doing. “I’m just going to lift your gown. Lift up for me ... thank you ... and now I’m going to open your diapee. Ah ah! You just keep your hands at your side.” She tore the tapes slowly and one at a time. I closed my eyes. I didn’t know how to feel. I was in pain, but I also felt somewhat aroused, and my face felt hot with the flood of blood as I blushed all the way to the back of my neck, I’m sure.

She folded the diaper down, commenting, “You’re all dry! Okay, now put your knees up and open your legs for me.” I did, my eyes still closed. “I’m going to touch you a little down there, okay? I want you to tell me if it hurts too bad.”  I nodded and felt her hands on my inner thighs, pulling them aside to get a look in the space where my crotch meets my legs on each side. “I’m going to lift your pee-pee now.” She did, and despite myself, I stiffened just a little, and then she lifted my balls. “Goodness,” she said. I drew in a sharp breath as she touched me. “I know that hurts, honey. Sorry ... Can you lift up your bum for me?” I did, and she ran her hand over the curve of my butt. “Do you have some wipes with you,” she asked Kate.

“In his diaper bag.” My eyes still closed, I heard Kate unzip my bag and pop the snap on the travel packet of wipes I kept there and that so far had gone unused.

“Thank you,” the doctor said. “Jordan, I need to see under the rash cream, so I’m going to wipe it away. I know this doesn’t feel good, but it will help me make you all better.” I nodded, and she lifted my balls again, and as gently as she could, she wiped away the cream I had spread so thickly this morning. I held my breath. The stuff goes so smooth, and then it gets so gummy. It hurt pretty bad coming off.

“Ok,” the doctor said, “All Done. You were very brave.” She pulled the diaper back over me, leaving it undone, and I put my legs down.

I opened my eyes, felt them watering, and looked on as Kate and Angie continued their two-person dialogue. “That is definitely a diaper rash. You did a good thing bringing him in today.”

“How bad is it?”

“Pretty bad. I’m going to give you a prescription for a rash cream and a topical antibiotic ...”

“It’s infected,” Kate asked.

“I don’t think so, but we’ll just be safe. You’ll need to use it every time you change him.”

“Jordy changes himself, actually. This is his fetish.”

“I see. In that case, you still need to make sure he uses it at every change, and I want you to take a look at it at least once a day until it’s all better. He needs to keep using the creams until they’re all gone, and then he needs to use over-the-counter rash cream every time he changes himself.”

“I’ll make sure he does, or else.”

“Haha. I thought you might say that.” Kate winked at me, and I wanted the floor to open up and swallow me and the exam table whole. “About that,” Kate asked, “Not that Jordy needs a lot of discipline, but when will it be safe if I need to put him over my knee?”

“Kate,” I exclaimed. Why would she ask that? It was obvious there was some dynamic going on and that the two of them shared some kinks, and it was obvious Angie had a thing for age play, or at least submissive men, and I was okay to just go along with it while she was examining me, but now it seemed like they were just having fun at my expense.

“Excuse me,” Kate said, “I’m asking the doctor a question.”

“But...”

“Who does the spanking in our house?” I didn’t answer. “Hmm?”

“Y-you.”

“And who gets spanked?”

“M-m-me.”

“So don’t you think it’s a good idea I know when it’s okay to spank you again, or would you like to find out by trial and error?”

I sulked quietly, or tried to. “Jordan,” Kate asked when I didn’t respond.

“Yes,” I mumbled. I laid back and looked at the ceiling, content to pretend I wasn’t there so long as they were pretending the same thing.

“Sorry, Angie. This is still new for us.”

“I understand. It takes time to train them. Anyway, give it a week, but there’s no rash on his thighs. If he needs a spanking, smacking him there won’t do any harm. Or you could even do like the British do and just smack his leg like you’ve seen me do with Benjamin.”  I heard Angie loudly hit the enter key. “There. On its way to your pharmacy. But there is one other thing I want to talk to you about, Kate.” I heard Angie’s voice move, and in my head I pictured her sitting down in the chair next to Kate’s.

“What,” Kate asked.

“Are you sure he’s ready to be in charge of changing his own diapers?”

“Well, Jordy’s been a diaper lover since before we met.”

“I see, but, that’s a pretty bad rash. Maybe he’s not really ready. I know ageplay isn’t your thing ...”

“It’s not his either. He’s not an adult baby.”

Angie chuckled, “All men are adult babies. It’s just that some enthusiastically accept it, and others think they’re grown-ups. But I won’t push you. I just want you to think about it.”

“I’ll consider it,” Kate promised.

“Is it alright with you if I get Jordy into a clean diaper?”

“I think Jordy needs to decide that.” So at least I got to decide that, but not without some pressure.

“Jordy,” Angie asked, “Is it okay if I change your diaper?”

The funny thing was, I wanted nothing more than to be changed by as many willing women as possible, but I felt like I needed to say no just to draw a boundary, having spent the entire doctor visit being talked about and around like I was back at my childhood pediatrician.

“I...”

Kate interrupted me. She knows I’ve always wanted to be changed. “I think Dr. Angela is being very nice to offer.”

“Okay,” I sighed. “Yes … please.”

“Thank you. Will you get his things out for me.”

While Kate did that, Angela put on new gloves and pushed my gown further up.

“Lift up for me.” I did, and Angela pulled the old, unused diaper out from under me. I opened my eyes and watched as Angie opened a new diaper and narrated what she was doing for Katie.

“It’s not that different from changing a toddler. You open up the diaper nice and wide - lift up for me again, baby - and slide it under their bottom so it comes up a few inches past his waist in the back, then you apply the rash cream - legs up again - and make sure you especially get it between his legs. If he starts having poopy diapers, you need to also get it especially on his bottom between his cheeks, but until then, his perineum and his scrotum are the most sensitive. Be very gentle with his bits and pieces - it’s totally normal for boys his age to get hard during diaper changes, don’t worry - and then just fold the front up, do the bottom tapes first, and then the top ones, and always be sure to finish by patting the front of his diapee.”

“Why,” Kate asked.

“Because all boys like that, no matter their age.”

“Any questions?”

“No, I don’t think so.”

“Good. When you get him home, it will help him get better faster if he gets more air on his skin, so let him go without a diaper at least four hours a day until he’s better. You can pick up some chair and bed pads at the pharmacy along with his prescription, though it’s a good idea to have him sit on a diaper, too. You can pull that up if he starts to have a wee wee accident. Or he can, if he notices.”

“Ha! Thank you.”

“Will I get to see this little fella at a play party soon,” Angie asked.

“We’re working toward that.”

“I sure hope so. Now I’m running way behind.”

“What do you say, Jordy?”

“Thank you, Angie.”

“You’re very welcome.”

And I meant that thanks. I found most of that entire interaction embarrassing, but I forgave her that as she did such a good job changing my diaper. She got me all revved up.

As I was getting dressed, Kate stopped me and patted the front of my diaper, like Angie showed her. “Are you okay,” she asked.

“Yeah,” I smiled.”

“You definitely feel okay down there,” she laughed. “I hope she wasn’t too much.”

“Maybe a little. You didn’t have to bring up spanking me.”

“’She already knew, and I really did want to know when it’s okay to discipline you again. Other than that, did you enjoy it?”

“I did at the end.”

“She really would love to play with you sometime.”

“Just the two of us?”

“Well, maybe not at first, but maybe someday.”

“I’ll think about it.”

When we gto in the car, Kate asked me, “You’re being pretty quiet. You’re not mad at me, are you?” I guess she was feeling guilty for springing that on me. I kinda wanted to be, but while I found the whole thing embarrassing, I also kind of liked that feeling, or at least I was starting to. Still, if Kate knew Angie was going to treat me like that, she should have asked me if that was okay or told Angie not to.

“Not really, but I do feel like you both should have asked. I mean, I know you’re in charge, but still. I don’t think that should mean I should just have to go along with something like that.”

Kate sighed as she backed out of the space. “You’re right. I’m sorry.”

“I guess it’s like you said to her, this is still new for both of us.”

“Yeah. Also, I might have led her to believe you were okay with being treated that way. Or at least I didn’t clarify things for her. I’ll do better. Promise.”

“Maybe just before something else like that we talk it through first.”

“We will. In fact, how would you feel about talking with Angie about this? She’s very experienced in the lifestyle. She could probably offer some good mentorship.”

“Okay, I think I’d like that.” Who knew – maybe she could get Katie to go a little easier on me.

“I’ll text her tomorrow.”

I think Kate felt guiltier as the day wore on. She was extra nice to me, and while she did make me sit on a diaper everywhere I went, she also took advantage of my naked time to get a little handsy with me. I wondered if maybe Angela’s demonstration had her rethinking her feelings about changing me, but when it was bedtime, she didn’t offer to do it. She just asked me if I had applied the medications, which I very happily had and told her so. My rash started to feel better by the time I woke up the next morning.

[kirababy]

wow, what a great chapter.  The Dr's visit seemed just right - and very plausible/realistic given situation.   Well done

[Sarah Penguin]

Yeah that was fun I love Angie want more angie please

[Guilend]

If he's going to not take care of himself when he changes his own diapers than his wife should start doing it and if he's wearing them 24/7 then he should be using them for everything. It'd be a waste of money if he takes the diaper off just to poop in the toilet, especially if it's a dry diaper or if it's not wet enough to change.

[Alex Bridges]

5 hours ago, Guilend said:

If he's going to not take care of himself when he changes his own diapers than his wife should start doing it and if he's wearing them 24/7 then he should be using them for everything. It'd be a waste of money if he takes the diaper off just to poop in the toilet, especially if it's a dry diaper or if it's not wet enough to change.

You can take off a diaper, poop and put it back on. I do every day. Just slide it down and back up.

[Alex Bridges]

Chapter 16. Kate

 

 

“Jordan, I want to apologize for the other day,” Angie began. “I misunderstood the relationship between the two of you, and I should have gotten consent directly from you for the way I spoke to you and treated you.” Angie meant the apology. She’d gotten carried away, and she knew better having been involved in the lifestyle for thirty years.

“I accept your apology,” Jordan said in return.

“Good,” I replied. “I’m sorry to both of you for not being more clear with you, Angie. I guess I should have made it clear Jordy isn’t an adult baby.”

“So what can I do to help,” Angie asked.

“Well,” I said, “we’re both still new to living these 24/7 lifestyles. Jordy asked to be in diapers 24/7 about a month ago, and then I said I wanted a female-led relationship. So a lot of change for both of us.”

“What does that entail? The FLR part of your relationship, I mean.”

“Mostly discipline. I’ve been making sure Jordy takes better care of himself, and he keeps the house clean. Any laziness, and he gets punished.” I saw Jordy blushing from the corner of my eye. He’s really got no excuse for being that cute when he’s embarrassed.

“Does he need much punishment?”

“Not very much. He’s fairly well behaved overall.” I paused in thought for a moment. “Though I do think he’s starting to slack off in his chores a little more.”

“Hmm.”

Jordy spoke up, “I am not. I clean every day.”

“I know you do, sweetheart, but sometimes more thoroughly than others.”

“Hmm,” Angie said again.

“Anything else?”

There were a few things I had let go for a while, and now that we were talking about them, I figured I might as well get it all out at once. “I’m still disappointed about Jordy’s diaper rash. It concerns me that he didn’t manage to take care of that before it got as bad as it did, and it bothers me that I told Jordy he needed to be sure he stayed healthy down there, and he obviously didn’t.”

“How is his diaper rash, by the way?”

“It’s, better,” Jordy said.

“All healed now,” I said as though we couldn’t hear him. “His health generally is something I worry about. That’s why I put us on a diet and exercise regimen.”

“And how is that going?”

“Good ...”

“Is there something more you want to say?”

“... I ... I think he’s cheating on his diet some.”

“Jordan,” Angie said, turning to him.

“I’m not,” Jordan said. “R-r-really.”

“Fibbing is a big deal, Jordan,” Angie warned.

“B-but it’s n-n-nothing. Just a snack here and there.”

“What kind of snacks?”

“Sweets ...”

“Anything else.”

“S-s-sometimes I go out to lunch while Katie is at work.”

“Jordan,” I said, upset with him. “We go shopping together and get things for your lunches every Sunday!” It’s not cheap trying to eat right, but the money wasn’t the point.

“Healthy things,” Angie said knowingly. “But let’s put that aside for now.”

“Hold on,” I said. “What would I find if I check your debit card receipts for the past month?”

“Really,” Angie said, “This is good, but we shouldn’t get hung up on this right now.” I sat back in my chair. It was definitely a topic we’d be returning to. “I want you to give him a full workup, Angie. I’ll call and make an appointment for him.” I saw Jordy begin to roll his eyes and think better of it. I wasn’t convinced he was as healthy as he looked. The exercise was no doubt helping, but what about his bloodwork? What about the amount of junk he ate, or more specifically, the junk he ate and hid from me?

“Jordan,” Angie said calmly, “tell me how you feel about all this?”

“Um ...”

“Just tell the truth, sweetheart,” Angie coaxed him.

“Well, I’m really glad Katie is okay with me wearing full time.”

“It makes you happier,” Angie asked.

“Oh, he’s much happier,” I said.

Angie turned her attention to me. “Thank you, Kate. I find it’s best when addressing a question directly to a boy like Jordy that he answers for himself. They don’t get to speak very much, so I like to make sure they have those special moments.”

“Oh, sorry,” I said. I wonder what Jordy thought of that, mixed message that it was.

“It’s okay. Jordy?”

“Uh, yes,” he said, “Much happier.”

“What about the rest of your new lifestyle? And no more fibbing. Just tell me what you feel.”

“I ... Cleaning every day is a bit much. It’s just the two of us, and it can still take an hour or almost two.”

“Mhmm.”

“I mean, I don’t mind doing it some, but I am still trying to write and sell articles, and that takes a lot of time, too.”

“Are you getting enough of that time?”

“Most days.”

“But not every day?”

“No.”

“How about cleaning twice a week?”

“That would work.”

“What else?”

“I s-still feel like I hide my d-d-diapers a little.”

“You do? Tell me more about that.”

“I keep them in the bathroom.”

“And you don’t like seeing the potty?”

“N-n-n-n-no. It’s not that. I just want to keep them in my dresser like r-regular underwear.”

“Kate,” Angie asked me, “how do you feel about that?”

“I didn’t ask him to do that. I don’t mind if he keeps them in his dresser, but I don’t ... I guess now that you mention it, I don’t want a diaper pail in our bedroom. I don’t want it to smell like a nursery in there.”

“Hmm,” Angie mused. “Would your guest bedroom be a good compromise? You could keep some in your dresser, and the rest in your guest bedroom, and Jordy can change in there, or at least keep the diaper pail in there.”

“That might actually work better,” I said. “Our kitchen trash can does smell pretty ammonia-y.”

“S-Sorry,” Jordy stammered. “I guess I got a little lazy taking them straight to the garage trash.”

“So that’s settled,” Angie said. “What else, Jordy?”

“I get tired of not getting to eat my favorite things.”

“Ya know,” Angie said, “Why don’t we save that until after your check up?”

“O-o-okay.”

“Anything else,” Angie asked.

“I g-guess I wasn’t exactly thrilled that Katie told you about us without asking me first.”

“Aww, you’re safe with me, buddy, but that is something we should talk about. Kate, why did you tell me?”

“Because I figured it would be less embarrassing to tell you the truth than another doctor, and if we told Jordy’s regular doctor he was incontinent, that would have just led to a much longer discussion. And I wanted to get him in right away; he looked so pathetic.” I hate seeing my guy hurt or sick.

“Hehe. Yeah, he did,” Angie said. “Have you told anyone else about your relationship changes?”

“We told my mom and sisters and brother-in-law Jordy is incontinent for the time being. That way we don’t have to hide it from them, one less stressor.”

“Jordy, how did you feel about that,” Angie asked.

“I guess I was okay with that. It makes sense; I mean, having people know, people we see all the time, just ... I guess there won’t be any surprises then.”

“Mhmm,” Angie agreed, “And does anyone know you’re a disciplined hubby now?”

“N-not unless Kate t-t-told someone.”

“And I haven’t,” I said. “Other than you.” I’d considered, mainly because I wanted to brag to Kiley, but there was no real reason to tell anyone, and even if there was, I’d never do that without Jordan’s consent.

“Are you planning on it?”

“Well,” I said, “I really want to take Jordy to play parties. I’ve always wanted to. I want him to be a part of that part of my life ... and I wanna show him off.”

“Aww. You’re proud of your little guy.” Jordy was blushing again, about which comment I wasn’t sure.

“I am. And I like the idea of being watched. It’s a turn on.”

“Watched doing w-what,” Jordan asked.

“Paddling your butt,” I said. “Plus a little humiliation is a good punishment.”

“It definitely is, especially for someone as shy as Jordy.”

“And,” I continued, “I like the realism of it not being a secret Jordy is subject to discipline, at least in front of people in the scene.”

“So,” Angie asked, “if he were naughty in front of me, for instance, you’re discipline in front of me?”

“Exactly.” And now that she mentioned it, we did have a discipline issue to address.

“How do you feel about that Jordan?”

“I d-d-don’t want that,” Jordy stuttered.

“Well, the question isn’t really whether you want that,” Angie explained. “Of course you don’t want to have you bottom spanked even if that’s exactly what you need, but the question is whether you accept your wife’s authority to punish you where and when she believes you need it.” Jordan studied his shoes, not saying anything. “I think you might find you like it,” Angie continued. “And tell me if I’m wrong, but is your pee pee excited right now? And no fibbing.”

“A little,” Jordan whispered.

“You are just too cute! Isn’t he,” Angie asked me.

“Too cute,” I agreed. “So,” I asked, “do you accept my authority to do that?”

“Y-y-yes.”

“Ya know,” Angie said, “I have my sub call me ‘ma’am.’”

I personally didn’t like that, not with my husband. Too formal. I’m his wife, not his domme. “I like Jordy to call me by my name.”

“To each their own. Well, we’ve been talking for an hour. I bet Jordy’s diaper is wet. Jordy, are your pants wet?”

“Yes.”

“Good for you for knowing! I think you liked getting your diaper changed by me.”

“I did,” Jordy said.

“That’s something else you can do, Kate, have someone else change him if you don’t want to. Might be a little embarrassing for him, but also a treat. Jordy, how would you feel about that?”

“I ... s-s-sounds f-f-fun.”

“I don’t mind other people doing that,” I said. “I just don’t want to be in charge of his diapers.”

“Well, how about Jordy goes and puts his diapers in the guest bedroom while you and I chat woman to woman, and I’ll go change him in a little bit.”

“Good idea. Off you go, Jordy.”

“And you stay there until I come get you,” Angie warned him.

“One more thing,” I said. The thought just came into my mind, and I liked it and so I said it. “Do you accept my authority to have others discipline you?” Jordan froze and looked at me, then Angie. He turned back to me, and he just nodded. I sat back in my chair and pictured him over Angie’s knee and smiled. “Better do as she says then.”

When he was upstairs and out of ear shot, Angie leaned over toward me and put her hand on my arm. “Congratulations! He’s just terrific for this lifestyle.”

“Well,” I said, “he’s naturally submissive. It’s one of the things that attracted me to him. He’s just also painfully shy, so we never got very far with it.”

“You have now. I think he’s probably much more into sexual submission than he knows.”

“What makes you say that?”

“Because no one agrees to be spanked by their wife, let alone strangers, if they’re not.”

“He hasn’t been hard during a spanking yet.”

“So maybe he doesn’t like spanking, but I think he does like humiliation. I bet he’s quite excited right now thinking about getting his pants changed.” Angie had a devilish look in her eye.

“I didn’t know you were into diapers.”

“I’m not into diaper per se, but I like how they make men submissive. I’ve made Benjamin wear them as punishment. Or even just making him ask permission to go potty in the bathroom.”

“Mmmm. I like that idea.”

“See? You like diapers more than you think.”

“Maybe, but probably more for the humiliation part of it.”

“You don’t want to be his mommy?”

“Ha! Not really.”

“Mind if I say something honest,” Angie asked.

“Kinda why we wanted you to come over.”

“You have a submissive boy in diapers whose bottom you spank. Maybe you don’t want to be his mommy, but you’re pulling down his diaper to spank him, you’re playing that role.”

“But he’s not an adult baby or a little. He doesn’t see me that way, either.”

“I want you to imagine something for me …”

“Okay.”

“Jordan comes inside, and his pants are wet because his diaper leaked because he waited too long to change. You’ve had this conversation before. You make him stand on the doormat and take off his pants, scold him, and then swat his wet diapered butt all the way to your guest bedroom where you take that wet diaper off and put him over your knee. He’s in tears when you think he’s finally learned his lesson, and you order him to lay on the bed. You tell him since he can’t be trusted, you’re going to diaper him until further notice, and maybe that means leaving him in a wet diaper when he wants to be changed since clearly it doesn’t bother him that much. In fact, you tell him he’s not allowed to ask for a change, and if he does he’ll be spanked on the spot.”

“Mmmm.” I put that scene on a loop in my head.

“How do you feel right now?”

“Turned on,” I admitted. Angie sat back in her chair and smiled at me like the Cheshire Cat.

“See? It’s just another way of being dominant. At some point, it’s gonna happen naturally. Plus, if he’s really not a spanko, then he’s doing something for you he doesn’t like, so changing a wet diaper every once in a while won’t kill you.”

“Fair point.” I thought on that for a moment. “How do you think we’re doing otherwise?”

“I think you guys are doing great. I do think you need to ease up on the demands a little bit, like him cleaning twice a week instead of every day, but at the same time, you should be more strict in return. These first few months are really important to setting the tone and boundaries of the dynamic. You should really get a handle on that now so it’s normal later.”

“He really doesn’t do anything he shouldn’t.”

“Make stuff up.”

“Like what?”

“Does he ever get in a bad mood? Use a tone of voice he shouldn’t?”

“Of course.”

“So adjust his attitude for him. Remind him not to take that tone with you. The more you can make him feel like a child, the more he’ll go along with your authority. And before you say it, I know neither of you is supposedly into ageplay, but you have an adult who’s subject to spanking when he misbehaves. Doesn’t get much more childish than that.”

“He gets timeouts, too.”

“See?”

“He’s definitely earned himself a spanking today if he’s been eating junk food while I’m at work.”

“That really concerns you, doesn’t it?”

“I’m worried about his health. He doesn’t take especially good care of himself, and it’s not like we’re getting younger. I think freelancing has been very healthy for him, but I still want to know everything else is okay.”

“I’ll check him over. Just call and make an appointment.”

“Any other suggestions?”

“Just one more: after he’s gotten used to being spanked and really starts to see himself as a spanked husband, sometimes when he earns one, don’t.”

“Why?”

“Just tell him how disappointed you are, and say things like, ‘I thought you knew better by now.’ If he really feels like you’re in charge, he’ll feel so guilty he’ll end up asking you to spank him. That’s when you’ll be done training him. And after that, just sometimes be arbitrary with it. If he doesn’t always know what will and won’t get him punished, that just keeps him off balance and feeling not in control, because you’re in control.”

“Heh. I like that. I bet he’s waiting for you,” I said.

“You wanna come watch? I bet I can make him turn three shades of red for you?”

[Alex Bridges]

I also have a third story going: 

 

 

[kirababy]

wow, what a great chapter...

hoping that the next diaper change will be memorable for all involved, including us readers!!!

 

[Sarah Penguin]

You  know if he's been bad being babysat with the adult baby treatment that seemed humiliating angie put him through during their rash visit checkup would really would prolly do wonders and after that the threat of spankings and being babysat again might make his eyes pop out

[Alex Bridges]

Chapter 17. Jordan

 

“O, Jordy,” I heard Angie sing as she came up the stairs. “Where’s Jordy?”

“I’m in here,” I said back. I had just emptied a bag of diapers into the dresser in the guest room. I liked the way they looked, stacked in uniform stacks of three rising to the top of the shallow underwear drawer, three columns across and two rows deep, 18 diapers in all. I put a box of wipes on the top along with my other changing supplies.

“There he is! There’s Jordy,” Angie squeaked as she came in the room. She was making me feel self-conscious, as if I wasn’t already, and her playful tone was making me feel childish, which of course she was doing on purpose. Telling her I wasn’t an ageplayer didn’t seem to phase her. “Is you ready for your diapee change? Is you? Hmm? Is you-you?” She bent at the waist and put her hands on her knees as she said it, reminding me of the body language that gets a dog already excited to play even more wound up. Kate leaned against the door frame with her arms folded and a crooked smile on her face. I could write a monograph about all the smiles of Kate and how I fell in love with each one.

“Uh, yes,” I said to Angie. I stood there uncertainly.

She straightened up and clapped her hands. “Good for you knowing when you need changed! That means you’re on your way to being a big boy. Buuut,” she said, drawing out the word, “you’re not yet, are you?”

I surprised myself by feeling, instead of umbrage, a desire for her approval and acknowledgment that I was, in fact, a big boy. “Yes I am, too!”

Angie rolled her eyes at me. “Uh-huh. In that case, let’s change the ‘big boy’s’ peepee diaper. Wanna show us where you put your things?”

I stepped away from the dresser and pointed to the still open drawer. “I put some diapers in here and my other changing stuff on the dresser. Oh, and uh, I didn’t put this away yet,” I said as I stepped across the to the bed and grabbed the bed pad. “The rest of my diapers are in the closet.”

“The rest of da big boy’s diapers are in him’s closet,” Angie teased me in her baby voice.

“Yes,” I shot back, furrowing my brow to let her know I wasn’t amused.

Angie turned to Katie and gushed, “He is just the cutest pouter.”

“O,” Kate responded, “It has its limits.” Without another word, Angie walked up to me and pulled my shorts down before I could stop her. I wished I’d worn pants with a belt.

“Mhmm,” she said as she looked at my diaper. I instinctively covered up, and she batted my hands away. “You can see he’s wet by the wetness indicator,” Angie explained to my wife, “but you can’t really tell how wet without feeling,” she continued as her hand cupped the front of my diaper. “This diaper could hold more, but since Jordy has sensitive skin he should be changed more often.” She gently put her hand on my shoulder and turned me around. “Of course, over time his skin will get tougher, and then he can wear the same diaper until he’s wet to about here,” she explained as the drew her finger across my diaper about where my tailbone ended, “assuming his diapee doesn’t leak first, of course.”

“Uh-huh,” Katie said as Angie turned me back around.

“And nothing is worse than leaky pampers,” Angie declared in a mock-serious baby tone again, “except diapee rash.” She smiled at me. My patience was wearing a bit thin with her.

“C’mere,” Angie told Kate. “I want to show you something else.” Kate stepped over to us. “Jordy is not a big boy yet,” she said with a twinkle in her eye, “but he is getting bigger even as we speak. Feel.” Angie’s fingers brushed over the front of my diaper, and after a moment’s hesitation, Katie wrapped her hand over my crotch. “See? Maybe he’s not an ageplayer, but he definitely enjoys a little erotic humiliation.” I blushed and looked down, which only brought my gaze to Kate’s hand, still on me.

“Mhmm,” Kate said again, that crooked smile coming back. I had a bad feeling about what she was thinking.

“Now, though,” Angie said as she brought back out the sing-song voice people save for toddlers, “he’s needs him’s pants changed out of that wet diaper.” She grabbed the bed pad and spread it on the floor, ordering me to get sit down on it using just her eyes. Friendly eyes with a hint of a threat behind them.

“Lay back, baby,” she said.

“I’m not a baby!”

“Okaaaay! You’re not a baby,” she said still using that voice. “You’re the big grown man who went peepee in his diaper and needs to be changed by his Auntie Angela before his bum gets all red and sore again.” Put that way, I could see how just being a baby was less embarrassing. “Could you hand us one of his pampers,” she asked Kate in her normal tone. Kate did and handed down the wipes and cream, too. She leaned against the dresser behind me. looking down from above.

“You’re not gonna wiggle too much,” Angie said in what I now assumed was the voice she just intended to use with me no matter what I said. I wondered if Kate could make her stop, but as I was lying on the floor and defenseless, I thought it best to bring it up later. She pulled my shirt up. “It’s really important when changing boys to pbbbbbbbbt!”

I have no idea the last time someone blew a raspberry on my stomach. More than twenty years. I laughed and squirmed despite myself, and it felt good as her long hair drifted across my naked tummy.

Kate thought it was hilarious. “Aw,” she said, “I think he liked that.” Being referred to in the third person is not my favorite thing.

“All little boys like that. Now,” Angie said, “Let’s see what in your diapee. I don’t smell any poopy, but you can never be too careful.” I looked up at my wife while Angie tugged at the tapes. I sighed. I don’t know what wires got crossed in my head to make me love this, and I don’t care. I just love it.

“Hhhh,” Angie gasped, “you’ve been such a good boy using your rash cream! And you got it everywhere it needs to go. Good job! Such a good job,” she continued as she used my wet diaper to wipe the spent cream off. “Who did a good job? Jordy did!!! Who did a good job? Jordy did!!!!! Up-up!”

I lifted my hips, and she pulled the diaper out from under me and set it to the side, leaving it open. “Keep that tush up.” I held my butt off the changing pad while she unfolded my new diaper and pushed it under me. “Down-down.” I set myself back down. “What a good helper you are! Do you want to hold this? Will you hold this for your Auntie Angela?” She opened the tub of wipes and handed it to me, taking a few from it. “Knees spread, baby boy. Oops! I meant, ‘big boy.’ Sorry! It’s just hard to ‘member when I’m changing a peepee diapee! And it’s even harder when I open that diapee and find a not so big boy inside it!”

I twisted my face into a dirty look. Kate bringing her hand to her mouth to stifle a giggle caught my eye, and I turned my dirty look on her.

“Uh,” she said with her voice holding back laughter when she saw it hurt my feelins, “It’s small, but it’s fun.” Well, I didn’t know how to feel about that statement.

Angie smiled but kept wiping away around my crotch and under my bits. The cool, wet wipe and her thorough hands felt so good. “Now, knees up.” I lifted my knees to give her access to my butt.

“I know!” Of course she did. “Can your mommy - sorry! - can your wife hold your feetsies up? We want to get you clean ebery-bear, don’t we?” I looked up and saw Kate standing up straight from her spot leaning against the dresser and stepping forward so she was directly over me, giving me a view up her shorts. “Get those feetsies up,” Angie said as she pushed my ankles upward. Kate took my feet and held my legs up, raising my lower back just barely off the changing pad. “Dere we go!  Now I can reach all your spots! Wipe,” she said, and I held the tub closer to her so she could pull a few more free. This wasn’t a very comfortable position. She wiped off my butt cheeks, and then was particularly thorough in getting in between. It felt invasive and pleasurable. She was, apparently, more thorough about it than I had been.

“Uh oh! And you said you was a big boy,” she scolded me. I picked my head up. She was displaying the business side of the wipe, which betrayed the faintest bit of brown. “You dirty thing,” she said in her playful voice, more amusedly condescending to me than actually scolding me. “You dirty thing, you! You dirty thing, you!” I looked up to see my wife wearing her not-impressed face. Angie got another wipe and went back between my cheeks, rubbing it back and forth and, I think, trying to stimulate me back there. “One day I bet you’ll be able to do this on your own without needing your auntie to finish it for you. But dat’s okay because you still growing up!” She put the wipe down in the used diaper with the others and held her hands out to her sides palms up and elbows bent in an isn’t-this-obvious pose. “You still gwowin’ up!” My legs were getting tired.

“And now,” Angie announced excitedly, “it’s time for your diapee cream! Yay!” She unsnapped the cap and put some on the three middle fingers of her left hand. She lifted my scrotum with her right and smoothed the cream on, drawing and pushing it up the sides of my crotch. “Mmmm. Does you like dat? Huh? Is dat your faborite part of your diapee change?” She laughed and wiped the excess on the pristine white of the new diaper. “Legs down.” Kate let go of my feet, and I brought them back down, keeping my knees open.

“Awww. We almost done,” Angie pouted. She pulled the new diaper up between my legs and smoothed the winged out over my hips. “But you’re doing such a good job holding still and being my helper. And one,” she said as she sealed the first tape, rubbing her fingers across it extra firmly. “And two. And three. And four. All done!” She patted the front of my new diaper and left her hand there, her fingers drumming over my penis. She looked up at Kate. “And that is how you change a diaper on a boy like Jordy.” She smiled and looked quite pleased with herself.

She stood up and held out a hand for me. I took it and stood, sighing as I did. Despite myself, that had been enjoyable, physically speaking. Verbally, less so.

“Is it normal for him to be a little dirty back there,” Kate asked Angie.

“Oh, yeah. It’s just a boy thing. Not all men, obviously, but pretty common in boys like Jordy. I mean, if potty habits were all that important to him, he wouldn’t wear pampers, would he? And it’s not like he’s gonna be leaving skid marks anywhere important.” She chuckled at her own joke.

“Guess not,” Kate laughed.

“And he did seem to enjoy himself throughout all that,” Angie said. “Maybe he isn’t ready to admit that to himself yet. But a little shame isn’t such a bad thing. It could help keep him in line even. Jordy,” Angie said to me in a sweet voice but not the baby tone she’d been using, “What’s more embarrassing? Getting your diapee changed or getting your bum-bum spanked?”

“Uh,” I responded, not sure. It guess it didn’t occur to me to say something like, none of your business.

“See,” Angie said after a beat. “He can’t pick. You can put your shorts back on, honey.”

“You seem to have a lot of experience doing that,” Kate said to Angie.

“With boys of all ages. If you don’t mind me saying, you should consider getting him some fun diapers. Those are for nursing home patients - albeit a really good nursing home - not a boy Jordy’s age. Maybe something with prints.”

“I don’t like plastic diapers that much,” I said without thinking. “Too much noise.”

“Perfect for a little punishment sometimes then,” Angie happily deduced. “You could even make pants a privilege in the house.”

“I don’t know about that,” Kate said and then chewed on her lip.

“It would make it easier to see when he needs changed.” Kate smiled that crooked smile again. “Anyway,” Angie said, “I should get out of your hair.”

“What do you say, Jordy?”

“Thank you, Angie,” I said. I didn’t need the reminder. We all started walking downstairs.

“Really,” Kate said, “Thank you so much. This was so helpful.”

“My pleasure. I’ll babysit anytime.” She winked.

When she was gone, Kate rounded on me with a look somewhere between angry and not. “Sneaking sweets? Are you ten?”

“Sorry,” I mumbled, thinking I had a pretty good idea where this was going.

“You can choose your punishment. Either I can spank you silly or you can do extra chores.”

“Chores!” I said that a little eagerly, I guess.

“I’m gonna come up with a list for the week, but your chore for the day is simple.” She stepped toward me and grabbed my T-shirt in her hands like she was holding on to lapels. She smiled. “It’s about three o’clock. I want five orgasms before bedtime, and that diaper is staying on the entire time.” So I had no idea where that had been going, but I liked where it went.

I suspected something was up, just not that right then. That crooked smile usually means Kate is having dirty thoughts. If you’d asked me when we got married how I’d feel if Katie began to see my diaper fetish as in anyway arousing, I’d have said elated. I guess Angie’s demonstration of the possibilities helped Katie see how our fetishes meshed more than she thought. As she kissed me hard right then and I kissed her back, I felt a warm tingling sensation, but buried somewhere inside me was a faint worry that Angie had given Kate all sorts of ideas on new ways to punish me and humiliate me.

As I thought about it later that night, I knew all I had to do was tell Kate there was a limit and that it wasn’t right for my fetish to be turned into a punishment in any way, shape, or form,, and then she wouldn’t. But I didn’t want to say that, so I guess Angie taught me something about myself as well.

“Oh,” Kate said as she broke the kiss and started to pull me toward the stairs. “You can cum too, if you can manage that through your diaper.”

I couldn’t tell if she was kidding or not. She’d never told me I was allowed to cum. Maybe because this was technically a punishment. Anyway, five is a bigger number than it seems sometimes.

[WBDaddy]

7 hours ago, Author_Alex said:

Anyway, five is a bigger number than it seems sometimes.

Pro tip:  Don't stop after the first one - you can usually get the rest in the same batch once she gets going.   

[kirababy]

what a great change scene, love that he does not want to be a baby, the struggle is real with him

[Sarah Penguin]

Whee

[Infernum]

Just caught up with this story and I gotta say it's brilliant. Love the way their relationship is evolving and how it's all so realistic. 

[Alex Bridges]

4 hours ago, Infernum said:

Just caught up with this story and I gotta say it's brilliant. Love the way their relationship is evolving and how it's all so realistic. 

Thank you. I’m glad you’re enjoying it.

[Alex Bridges]

Chapter 18. Kate

 

 

The next two weeks had me walking a tightrope between being strict and being a bitch.

The day after my five orgasms, I spanked Jordy for leaving a wet diaper open on the bathroom floor while he took a shower. We’ve all been there – you drop your clothes in a heap and jump in the shower – but not all of us leave a used diaper out there for others to look at when they go in to get Tylenol. The key, of course, is I couldn’t spank Jordy severely for everything little thing. That would ruin it, and anyway, pain wasn’t the point. Humiliation was, and instilling in Jordy the awareness that his butt was never safe unless he behaved himself. So I yelled over the water for him to turn it off, opened the curtain, and told him off, and gave him five swats on each wet butt cheek. Then I gave him five more when he turned back to the shower instead of hopping out and throwing the thing away.

I checked our bank account and found he’d had lunch out after our day with Angie despite knowing my feelings about it. When I confronted him and he admitted to eating fried food, his pants came down right there in the kitchen. He thought the spoon hurt, until he felt the spatula. That was the first time I ever made Jordy sniffle during a spanking, and it made me wonder what I’d need to do, and under what circumstances, to be able to spank my husband to tears.

It wasn’t just spankings, though. He did those extra chores, including planting some new ornamentals in the raised beds in the back along the privacy fence. He did a nice job, cleaned everything up well in the yard, and put everything away. But oh darn, the shovel wasn’t washed off. If you’re going to make your husband clean his tools, you may as well make an event of it. I didn’t just let him hose it off. I ordered him outside with a bucket and brush, and though the shovel didn’t sparkle like brand new, Jordy understood the importance of putting his toys away correctly.

I took his phone away for a day. He has a bedtime, and he missed it by twenty minutes because he was screwing around on his phone. If he were my teenage son, that’s what I would’ve done. And he pouted about it like a teenager. I think having something taken away made him feel even childish, and I was on the verge of threatening him with a spanking if he didn’t just accept it, but instead I told him I’d keep it another day, also what I would’ve told my teenage son. That quieted him down, and I filed that eureka moment away for later.

We were at the grocery store when I took it up to Level 10. It was a Wednesday. Jordy went to see Angie for his physical on Monday; we got the results of his bloodwork back on Tuesday. He was pretty healthy overall, but his LDL, his bad cholesterol, and his triglycerides were high. Not dangerously so yet, but high. If it weren’t his health, I’d have done the I-told-you-so dance while making him watch.

I was walking back from the dairy aisle, and Jordy had the cart in the butcher section, where he was supposed to get boneless, skinless chicken breast. Thank goodness my naughty boy is so inept. “Were you trying to sneak this in,” I asked as I pulled a steak out from under our lettuce.

“No,” Jordy said, failing to sound incredulous. Unbelievable.

“So it just happened to end up under the lettuce?”

“Yeah, I guess. Uh, can I not have that? I thought it was on the list.” He meant the list Angie gave him, the one we’d read together the night before listing what foods he could and couldn’t have.

“So it didn’t end up under the carrots. Or the grapes. Or bread. It just happened to end up under the big, leafy stuff that, I for one, would choose to hide something under?”

“Yeah, and what’s the big deal? If I can’t have that, I’ll just put it back.” He reached for it, and I held it out of reach.

“You’re seriously going to stand there and tell me you didn’t know red meat was on the ‘No’ list? Or that you even need the list, as though you’re not an educated, informed adult and know damn well red meat is bad for your cholesterol?” I think some people overheard us. I didn’t care if they did.

“It’s not all bad for you. The lean cuts are okay sometimes.”

“Yeah, this a is a ribeye. And now you’re changing your story.”

Let’s set aside fetishes and relationship dynamics. Let’s just pause to marvel at 1) what a terrible liar my husband is, 2) how ridiculous it is for a grown man to sneak food into the cart like a 10-year-old sneaking cookies, and 3) that this is my husband’s health, and Angie gave us a month – just one month – to get his number down or said he’d need to go on a statin. People don’t normally come off statins. I wasn’t worried about side effects. I was worried about Jordy having a chronic condition. If he did his best for a month and the number didn’t budge, that’s life. Maybe it’s genetic. Maybe it’s just bad luck. But Jordy not caring about this was not an option.

Jordy changed tactics. “You’re right. I’m sorry.” I don’t know whether he was ashamed – I certainly would be after that pathetic attempt, on so many levels, to get away with that – or if he was feigning it with his puppy dog eyes. Come to think of it, I don’t think he had puppy dog eyes before I started disciplining him. But not the point.

“Put it back,” I instructed him. And he did. Maybe he thought that was the end of it. Had he not lied to me, it might have been. I wanted to drive that particular point home.

“What’s next on the list,” he asked when he came back, thinking, I suppose, that we hd moved on.

I held up the list and pretended to read – I’m a very sarcastic disciplinarian, it turns out. “A hairbrush.”

“That’s on the other side of the store. Anything else in this section?” So he missed that subtext. Oh well, he’d figure it out shortly.

“Follow me.” We walked past a bunch of aisles we needed things from. I wonder if Jordy was slowly grasping how much trouble he was in. It being a grocery store, it’s not like they had a huge selection of hairbrushes. I picked the widest one, plastic, unfortunately. I decided we’d be going hairbrush shopping in the near future for a heavy, solid, wooden one.

My intent at first was to pick out a brush, tell him he was getting a spanking when we got home, and then letting that sink in while we shopped. Two things changed my mind. First, Jordy was looking at his phone. Which is fine, normally. I don’t care about screen time (so long as it’s not after bedtime), and I’m certainly no less attached to my phone than anybody else. But it just irked me. Did he think they were just tiny lies and didn’t count? Did he even realize he’d just lied to me? Did he realize how big a deal that is and that he was in serious trouble because of it? Jordy seemed to have stopped thinking ahead. He was never great at it, but it was just like common sense had fled from his brain, and it’s not because he’s not smart. He’s actually crazy smart, which just makes if frustrating sometimes to watch him blunder into situations like this.

The second was courtesy of the high-end grocery store we shop at. Most stores, a dingy men’s room and lady’s room. This one: a family restroom, right there between the pharmacy and the beauty aisles.

“Follow,” I said again, and I walked the fifteen yards to where the vitamins ended. I put the cart out of the way. I did have the courtesy to lower my voice, as much for him as me. Not like I’m looking to get banned from my favorite grocery store.

“Jordan,” I said quietly, slowly, and calmly, “when I’m done talking, you and I are going to go in there, and I’m going to give you a preview of the spanking you have coming when we get home.”

“What!” He said it so fast and so quiet, like a knife through air as the color drained from Jordan’s face.

“I’m not done talking,” I enunciated slowly. His spanking would be private, in a public space, but I was going to speak my mind there and then. “You just lied to me. Do you realize that? You lied to me. You deliberately tried to sneak that into the cart: that’s a lie. You denied it: that’s a lie. You pretended you didn’t know you can’t have that: another lie.”

“Katie …”

“You really need to be quiet right now for your own sake. I’m trying to help you. And I’m your wife. This has nothing to do with fetishes. In all our years, Jordan, I have never, ever lied to you.” That’s when the stunned look on his face was replaced by what I knew was genuine shame. “Understand, right now, that that is a big deal. It doesn’t matter what you lied about. It doesn’t matter if it seems small to you. It’s a big deal, and when you lie three times in a row, it hurts me even more. Like telling me the truth just doesn’t matter to you. So we’re going to go in there, we’re going to finish our shopping after, and you’re going to unload the groceries and then go straight into the corner in the guest room. Understand?”

“Yes,” he said quietly, “But this is crazy. Can’t …”

“If your hand isn’t on the door knob in two seconds, we’re doing this in the car.” I didn’t mean it, but if he had protested, I’d have instantly meant it. He opened the door and we slipped inside. I locked it behind us.

“Katie, what if we get caught?” He didn’t try to bat my hands away when I undid his belt, so at least he had learned that part of our new lifestyle.

“You should have thought about that before.”

“But …”

I instantly straightened up and put a finger in his face. “Where and when I decide. That’s what you agreed to, and I’ve never – ever! – seen anymore more in need of an on-the-spot spanking.”

I pantsed him, tugged his diaper down, grabbed his left wrist, and attacked his backside like I was trying to put out a fire. He got thirty, and he got them fast and hard, getting on his tiptoes and arching his back trying to get away. He didn’t. It was loud, the hollow hairbrush making a thwock sound instead of a smack. Clearly it wasn’t the same as wood, but it made an impression.

I straightened back up, and Jordy stood there a bit stunned, I think. I wasn’t stunned. To me, it was the natural consequence of his misdeed. From the moment the idea came into my head, it seemed right. Though I’d never physically punish a child, Jordy was childish, and he got a childish punishment in a childish way. And he lied to me, deliberately, and however humiliated he was, whatever risk of getting caught we ran, was worth it if he came away from the experience knowing that his behavior was unacceptable and would not be tolerated.

“To be continued,” I said as I crossed my arms. “Re-dress yourself, please.” Jordan pulled up his diaper, got it situated, and then his pants. “Next on the list is a pack of soap, cheap, and then we’ll do our normal shopping.”

“Okay,” he nodded eagerly.

“We will come right back here if you need another spanking,” I warned him. “Understood?”

“Yes.”

I wasn’t sure what I wanted to do more: finish shopping quickly to continue our “conversation” as soon as possible, or slowly so he could think about it.

[Sarah Penguin]

[kirababy]

whoa, level 10 indeed.  From her perspective, it totally makes sense.

[Alex Bridges]

Chapter 19. Kate

 

I followed Jordy into the guest bedroom, where he went straight into the corner. “Shoes,” I said, and he took the off.. I reached around and undid his pants for the second time in an hour, then whisked them down his legs. “Step out.” And he did. I left him like that, in just his T-shirt and diaper, with instructions to stay in the corner until I came back, and I didn’t tell him when that would be. He was quiet the whole time. He didn’t drag his feet, but he didn’t rush, either. I wish I knew what was going through his head.

I went back to the kitchen and made myself a glass of iced tea. I’d laid out a few things in writing at the start of all this: he would enthusiastically participate in the new health regimen, and he wouldn’t lie. “The basics,” I’d called not lying. It was pro forma. I didn’t think I’d ever need to punish him for lying. He’s a grown man. But he was acting like a little boy who wasn’t getting his way.

For sure there would be some changes. For one, he was going to use a food tracker from then on so he could see how much one treat or one meal could sabotage an entire day. But the idea that I considered and then dismissed was taking away his debit and credit cards, putting him on a cash allowance. I didn’t think we were there yet.

I don’t like spanking with belts. It seems too much like a whipping to me, not a spanking. But the spoon didn’t seem like it was enough for his offense. What else did I have in the house? Kiley has a nice collection of paddles, but I didn’t want to bring her into this. I’d be making some online purchases soon, though. That plastic hairbrush would have to do since neither of us has the right kind for this particular use.

And the thing is, this was not sexually exciting for me. I didn’t want to have to spank my husband for lying to me. But I had to. I took the cheap soap we’d bought from the store, along with the hairbrush, and went to collect Jordy.

I took him to the bathroom, instructing him to sit on the lid of the toilet. “When we’re done,” I started, “we can talk, and I want to hear what you have to say. But right now, you’re going to listen and not say a single word until I tell you to, understand?” He nodded glumly. “Look at me, not your feet.” He looked up. His face was red.

“We’re adults, which means we’re mature enough to understand that sometimes lies are necessary or even the kind thing to do. You and I are telling a massive lie about your diapers. We lied to my family. We lied to Wendy. We lied to that woman at the store. We’re probably gonna lie to a lot more people, and I’m okay with that because it’s something we’re doing together for your sake. But when you lie to me,” I said, and my voice caught and broke, not what I meant to do. I swallowed that down and resolved to keep my composure.

“... your wife ... I don’t understand, Jordy. You’ve been telling these ridiculous lies. You’ve lied about using rash cream. You’ve lied about your diet. You lied to me three times in 60 seconds today. Stupid lies! Pathetic lies over childish, stupid things. And getting caught in those lies so easily, like you’re not even thinking ahead. I don’t understand! I don’t understand why you’re resisting this so much and why you’re behaving like a little kid with this stuff. I mean, lying about food? Six-year-olds do that! Like I could literally catch you with your hand in the cookie jar and you’d deny it. I swear, it’s like you’re testing boundaries like a toddler.”

I was on a roll, and I wasn’t looking at him. It was like I was talking to an audience that wasn’t there, reciting a soliloquy of hurt feelings and mistrust.

“And you’re telling those lies to me. To your wife. I don’t know if you think they’re just little white lies or that they don’t matter because you just want to do whatever you want to do, but they do matter, Jordan. They do matter to me. And not just because of what you’re lying about but just because they’re lies. We’re husband and wife, and every lie between us matters, every single one is a big deal. I have never lied to you, ever. Not once. And they just rolled off your tongue like being honest with me in the most trivial things isn’t important to you. Any other wife would wonder what other things you weren’t being honest about. I’m not worried about that, but I will be if this continues.

You are done lying. You are done having a bad attitude about these changes. You are done treating your health like it doesn’t matter. You are done, in general, sneaking around, keeping things from me, and doing things you know I don’t want you doing. I won’t have it. That’s all there is to it.”

I stopped, and I finally looked back at Jordan. He wasn’t looking at his feet, but he wasn’t looking up at me either. There was water in his eyes. His breath seemed to catch. I wanted it to be done. I wanted to just stop at the lecture, let it go, wrap my arms around him and let him tell me how sorry he was. I wanted to, and for almost a full minute, I grappled with it. I know Jordy like I know no one else in the world. I know how much he loves me, and I know how horrible he was feeling right then. But ... I don’t know, I felt I had to punish him. He knows better. I mean, he knew what he did was wrong, even if he managed to justify it in his own mind, he knew, and he did it anyway. No one is perfect; I didn’t imagine one spanking would forever cure him of this misbehavior. But I needed to make sure he understood that there would be consequences and that it wasn’t okay, nut just as misbehavior but because we made a vow to each other.

“I really don’t want to have to do this,” I told him, and for once I meant it. “I’m going to wash the lies out of your mouth with soap, and then I’m putting you over my knee for a long, hard spanking. Then you’re going to spend some time in the corner and think about how you’re going to behave better from here on out.”

He was trying to hide it, that he was crying. So that answered my question on how to make him cry. Make him feel really guilty.

I opened up a box of that cheap soap and worked it into a lather in the sink. I’d never even had this done to me, let alone done it to someone else. I stood in front of him and said, “Look up,” and when he did I took hold of a handful of his hair behind his head so he couldn’t get away. My god, he looked ... I felt sorry for him. “Open wide. Wider. And don’t try to get away. It will only get worse if you resist.”

I tightened my grip, but not so hard as to pull his hair, and pushed the soap past his teeth, pushing it back and forth in his mouth while he squinched his eyes tight and kept his mouth open, working to keep the insides of his cheeks away from the bar. Across his tongue, against the roof of his mouth, on his gums and cheeks, over his teeth so some got in his molars where it was would stay until I let him brush his teeth. He was spilling drool all down his shirt front; his nose was running. It was a thorough lather, and I stopped with the bar still in his mouth. “Bite down.” Cautiously, he did so. I let him stay like that, saliva running down his chin, for a full minute.

“Open.” I took the soap out and wrapped it in a tissue. “I’m saving this in case we ever need it again. Will we ever need it again?” He shook his head no; he looked like a sorry, wet rat. “I’m glad to hear that.” I filled the cup at the sink with enough water for one rinse. He could do the rest after his spanking. “Rinse and spit,” I said as I handed him the cup and stepped out of his way. He did. I was impressed by the fact that he had at least followed my instruction and not said a word since I started lecturing.

“Let’s go get your spanking over with,” I said and gestured to the guest room. I followed him with that brush in hand. I sat down down on the bed. “You know the position.” He got over my lap.

“Jordy,” I said and then sighed. “I love you so much.” I reached over with my left hand and turned his chin so we was looking at me. “Do you know that? So much.” He nodded, his lips quivering. “Don’t you ever do anything to make me mistrust you again.” I felt him sob before I saw it. A heave of his chest, a cramp of his diaphragm, the bob of his head. I let go of his chin, and he faced away from me, and I started spanking him over his diaper with my hand.

I did that on purpose. I wanted to make the spanking last. I wanted him to feel those heavy, almost painless thuds pushing his body forward before it settled back and then got pushed forward again. I wanted him to hear the loud thwump of each spank. I wanted him to think about it, and as he was crying into the comforter, I knew he was.

I reached under his hips and got his diaper open, pulling it open in back. My heart wasn’t in it. I’d been so angry in the store and exasperated while I was telling him off, and now, with him crying over my knee, I just felt like getting this over with. I think Jordy had learned his lesson, and I just wanted to drive the point home in a way that left a lasting physical impression for a few days. I spanked him with my hand to get him warmed up just a little more, switched to that brush and gave him methodical, solid, heavy spanks, leaving the brush on his butt before picking it back up and doing it again. He buried his face in the bed, but I could hear he was crying and crying out. His butt wasn’t as red as I knew I could make it, but with the heavy swats, I knew I’d left a bruise that would linger a couple days.

I stopped. I let him lay there and cry. I rubbed his back and cooed, “Shhh. It’s all over,” and petted him until he’d calmed down.

“Up you go,” I said and helped him stand. His eyes were puffy, and he sniffed back what sounded like a nose full. I brushed the hair out of his eyes. “Go brush your teeth and come right back, please.” He pulled the diaper out from between his thighs, and I watched him walk away with a hand on his butt.

When he was out of the room, I sat back down on the bed and put my face in my hands. For the first time, I understood what it meant to be a disciplinarian. Not a fetish, but a responsibility. Following through on the rules and punishments you set forth even when you don’t want to. I wiped away a tear of my own, took some deep and eve breaths, and waited for him.

“Lie down on the bed, baby.” He looked confused. “It’s okay,” I promised. “On your back,” I said as he got onto the bed.

I opened up what used to be his underwear drawer. “I’m gonna change you into a fresh diaper, then you’re going to stand in your naughty spot for 30 minutes.” I opened a diaper and closed the drawer. “I want you to use that time to calm down and think about everything I told you, and then you can tell me whatever it is you need to. Hips up ...”

It felt good taking care of Jordy that way.

[Sarah Penguin]

Oooooooooooooooooooooh!

[kirababy]

wow a fantastic viewpoint and description of her feelings and headspace.   well done.